DIRECTOR, ANIMATOR, ILLUSTRATOR
Piss Artist:
Sketches from the pub.
I once married an alcoholic. He took me to all the best places. Well, pubs. A lot of pubs, or anywhere that served pints. From the sticky carpets of Wetherspoons that look like a migraine waiting to happen, to the ones where everyone has a black Labrador in a bandanna. They drizzle micro herbs into stemmed glasses and wrap it all in a brioche bun that costs more than your childhood home. My parent's local has a helipad. Presumably for emergencies. Like running out of aioli. Get to the chopper, I need a Scotch egg. ​​
Yes I am a professional.
No, I will not stop doing this.
Enjoy the drawings, and if you recognise yourself: Congratulations, you made the cut. You are part of modern British folklore. Watch out for the owl.
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*Since the time of writing, the author has divorced.
It's like a wildlife documentary - if all the animals were drunk, shouting at a jukebox and trying to remember their debit card PIN.
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It's art.
It's not good art, but it's art.
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I sometimes capture people's drunken fantasies, and I sometimes meet an owl that lives in a man's coat sleeve.
I call it "research" now. One time it became a film. I tell people I'm working on a book, mostly to stop strangers I'm staring at asking me if I'm ok. Expect wobbly lines, beer-dipped ink, haunted faces, loud shirts, deep sadness, deeper-fried snacks and overheard quotes that range from the accidentally profound to "I've got an owl in my jacket".​​
Eventually, I started bringing my sketchbook. At first it was just something to do while pretending to enjoy IPAs, but it turned into a kind of...study. A semi-serious anthropology: part curiosity, part silent scream, part artsy chaos. For a while I thought seriously about becoming an alcoholic, instead I became an artist. Close call. Just as unstable, marginally better for my liver.
