The Art of The Story of Grass

This month at Peg Powler Gallery in Stockton there will be a preview of forthcoming attractions. One of those forthcoming attractions is The Story of Grass Exhibition which will be running in June. Mr Hughes and myself are really, really looking forward to seeing it, cos we haven’t got a fucking clue what it will look like. It’ll probably involve pictures and words in some way. We have big plans! We’re going to buy some frames and put stuff in them – that’s what artists do, isn’t it? And we’d like some boxes people can open too. Anyway:

April 13th, 20th, 27th : Peg Powler Preview Show

Find out more about Peg Powler Gallery, hang out, draw, make a zine, meet people and check out our art library over a cuppa.

I will see you there, will I?



(thanks to the credit crunch, this picture is only worth 903 words. Here are the other 97 I owe you…)

I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like. Sausages. I bloody love sausages. I hate art. It’s just pictures and that, innit?

Call me old fashioned, but to me art should be crudely rendered representations of buffalo and large-breasted fertility goddesses drawn on cave walls in crushed-beetle dye and mammoth poo.

Although I do actually admire the work of the Italian renaissance artists, Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Botticcelli, Pontormo, Bronzino, Campanelle, Fusille, Penne, Rigatoni, Macaroni… um…

…actually I think some of those might be pasta shapes.

Man. Who’s hungry? I fancy a sausage.