I have a new blog!

Infinite arms and these mended bones.

(The above link will take you there)

Sonorous verisimilitude.

Lead me to the truth and I will follow with my whole lie.

Graphite, water colour, gelatin pen and copic marker on paper.
50cm x 70cm

Wonderland.

Saddles shift through fog,
Venom saturates her tongue,
Bubble gum baked black pulls dry her stretched mind-
How she longs for the sound of sleeping.

Ferris wheel bends to the heat of her thoughts,
Riding the space between carriages they race,
Bowing down to only the plastic entwined in canine teeth-
That dog knows not the sound of sleeping.

Where whispers balance between the flint and the fringe,
Where sails tear to the crying of the wind,
There mercy and murder befriend,
There she finds the sound of sleeping.

Solid tones bellow from between two lips,
Twigs scrape cement,
The damage is damned.

Beneath the yellow brick road paved across the sea,
Buried by her parents,
Is where she will know the sound of sleeping-
Ash in mouth and delivering butterflies from her hand.

DB.

Papercuts Exhibition at Trocadero Art Space.

Papercuts Exhibition- Papercuts is a celebration of the flat stuff. Gathering together a host of different artists including Aaron MARTIN, Anne KUCERA, Autumn TANSEY, Dave HAUSER, Danielle BONGIOVANNI, Deanne JOLLEY, Georg WHELAN, Grant GRONEWALD, Jacob PILKINGTON, Jenny Zhe CHANG, Jess WILSON, Katja MOUVLIN, Marnie ADAMSON, Matt HOBSON, Nikki LAM, Ross DE WINTER, Sarah GARRECHT, Sophia DARCIA, Susie SCHOLEM. Papercuts explores the limitless potential of a natural canvas.

Curated by Lou Molesworth, Jess Wilson and Ben Snaith.

Opening: Saturday December 4th from 4pm to 7pm
Address: TROCADERO Art Space
Level 1, 119 Hopkins St Footscray
Melbourne, Victoria 3011

For more information about TROCADERO Art Space and other exhibitions, visit:
http://www.trocaderoartspace.com.au/

Image taken by Susie Scholem

Make another telephone call, think of you and me.

Graphite and colour pencil on paper.
65cm x 80cm

About London.

Could I hear in death your voice and your breath?- Night terrors.

Graphite, water colour, silver gelatin pen, copic marker and tissue paper on paper.
50cm x 70cm

Don't drown in your tears, we have to sail.

Graphite, water colour, silver gelatin pen and copic marker on paper.
50cm x 65cm

Talking with ghosts (part two).

Graphite on paper.
50cm x 70cm

Talking with ghosts (part one).

Graphite on paper.
50cm x 70cm

Ring Tailed Lemurs are said to symbolise the souls of the dead (mainly because of their ghostly appearance).

I found a liquor store where I danced on the floor, eyes darted 'round.

Graphite, water colour, bronze gelatin pen and copic marker on paper.
50cm x 65cm

Drawing with details.

Ghost Eyes- music made by Andrew Duckett and Matthew Hayman.

http://www.myspace.com/ghosteyes

Music made by my dear friends living in London.... I have been waiting so long and finally my room is being filled with their sweet sweet tunes... makes me want to get my ghetto on (ha ha... that's for you Andrew!).
Love it xx

Image by: Emma Hartvig

Second image was the poster the boys used for the UK tour :).... done a while after this post...

The beauty of his death will carry on so.

Graphite and colour pencil on paper. Work in progress.

Space stars fall about you.

Graphite, colour pencil, silver gelatin pen, acrylic paint and tissue paper on paper.

(Really shit reproductions of original).



"And I was so shallow to the one man who stuck around, Sunk so low that I nearly drowned, And I screamed of his heart when he wasn't around, Consoled him recklessly, I knew he was down. Oh, I watched him cry, A broken heart at the hands of a child, And I'll keep on going, I've got nothing to lose, I gave up morals when I took up you"- Laura Marling.

Since I fell.

Type C photograph.

Herbert Von Karajan

Studies of Herbert Von Karajan (conductor) for M + C.
Graphite, ink and colour pencil on paper.

Could I hear in death your voice and your breath?

Graphite on paper. Scribble.

Tobacco cane smoulders between darkening skin
as tambourines touch
and pretty voices sound.

Blank breath drawn
killer sharpens her tongue,
pauses, and vomits yellow teeth.

Soldier white pages lay upon loose flesh
but slowly they find themselves being drenched in thoughtless black
that bloats and wields it's way onto the gradient.

Plastic caught beneath the tracks
leading to the shore where platted flowers hum over a stone cold bed,
sheets buried in the sand.
Bubble gum pink bubble popped. Dry.
Mind stretched and milk blood drawn from your sons and daughters,
their shoes untied. You smile.

Gargoyles drag carcasses from an empty sea,
there my head rests. Cryptic.
Entombed. DB.

The needle and the damage done.

Digital Photographs. Brainstorming ideas.


Cancerous breath swollen in the wake of a murderous day,
beautiful things lay. Still.

Fingertips dance light like lash brushed cheeks.
And you didn’t think to remember me while you were trumpeting vendetta,
sewing machines belted to bike wheels ploughing skin.

Bequeath to thee a drowned sailor's unrest.
Instantaneous. Solemn. DB.

What a typically shit thing to do.

Graphite on paper. Work in progress.

I read your letter, lines anxiously pulled in blue across the page forming structures that didn't mean a thing to me. Your confessions, ransoms confusingly noted in the emptiness that prevails of unkept promises; sewing through the mess. I search for you between my feet but you escaped after you broke in, swung between tiny veins, because you realised i didn't mean a thing to you. Its heavy and denied but to confess I knew you would break... me, freight train pulling me to it's gate because I knew I didn't mean a thing to you. DB.

"This is the moment that you know, That you told her that you loved her but you don't. You touch her skin and then you think, That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me. Yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me. I wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking, As we moved together in the dark. And all the friends that I was telling, All the playful misspellings and every bite I gave you left a mark. So one last touch and then you'll go, And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more. But it was vile, and it was cheap and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me, yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me". Death Cab for Cutie.

Hinting at space, to be unborn.

Digital Photographs. Brainstorming ideas.

"When I exit and recall your eyes; Leaden depth and dark, hinting at space. Oh the richness, hinting at everything, And unborn uncreate. To be unborn. Like an angle fallen whilst I saw your eyes, leaking lights". Michael Cashmore.