I would like to introduce my friend Ellen Lane's works today. Every one of them has a beautiful story from a particular time and space, a nudge to life and a lesson in all the emotions of the rainbow. Ellen is one of those powerful artists that are able to share through layers and hues. Seen from afar make one walk closer. Once there, face to face with the story, one finds more layers of coded little stitches that walk you deeper into a forest of quiet conversations.
I was not able to pick a few favourites, so I am sharing all I could get photographed. Even more on her website
A lot can be learned from my friend. I admire Ellen not just for her sense of colour and her ability to share secrets under layers of paint, but her sense of adventure, determination, outlook in the many lives she has travelled and above all, her full smile to whatever may come her way.
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space.
Just a little corner of what mornings are made of. Light, lots of, and a favourite quote from 'Where the Wild Things Snore Are'.
The 'canvas' (aprox 5x5 ft) is a piece of flooring from a theatre, the line chalked in will change if ever bored of it.
Reuse, reduce recycle!
I was tattooing a love heart to some girl, but she couldn't remember the guy's name. I had 8 left eyes, and she was telling me about this nameless guy. She wanted her love-heart to burn his name inside of it once tattooed. At this point we entered a very weird state of mind, the realm turned penciled (b&w) illustration, as if we were inside a comic strip, and we couldn't find any doors. I arranged a few lines to form a pencil and then a door, but the door only took me to a room with no depth, full of illustrated stuff, but no depth. And just like that, one hand (David's drawing-style of hand) animated itself and crossed the 'vignette' and pointed the dimensions of the space. It carried on around the rest of the dreamspace grabbing some things and knocking others over, found the girl and mimed: 'Leave him in the Highway'.
I woke up laughing at myself and grabbed pen and book and illustrated whilst it was fresh.
Here is to one of my favourite people in the world, I leave you with a tiny sample of David's extensive body of work, some of his travels Diary Entries. There are some from Gambia, Paris, Osaka and Berlin and it is taking me all day to decide which ones to show you as I am fascinated by every single one. I am not even looking at his paintings or his murals.
Dods is constantly doing, traveling, thinking, singing, making coffee, screaming inside books, writing, on walls, on ceilings, on pavements, on your forehead, colouring cities, loving, skipping and a -jumpin'.
Try to keep up with him if you can catch him!
This one happened without meaning to. There I was, a few years younger, writing a poem away with the fairies and I got a phone call that involved arguing ending in a spectacular shouting match. Not ideal, but I guess one taps into moments without realising. I was at my table, there was ink, there was paint, there was anger, a feeling like any other. There is nothing wrong with facing any feeling, in my experience, it helps one more than to not face them at all. In fact, anger has got me out of some pretty sticky situations in the past.
BB Nielsen (c) 2007
The two shades of white are both people involved, my voice has a hint of blue, tallking over each other, black ink fuzz works well for referencing loud spots. And underneath it all, the broken poem.
It reminds me that you live... And you (try to) learn!