Falling Star (1989)

It can happen, star-seekers.

Monsieur Citron / Fizzing Lemons (1989)

Well, here's this chap. Another monoprint series (mini-series) from the late Eighties. I done pushed the boat out on these and invested in some heavyweight paper, kinda with a weft...? a waft? a weave? Let's say weft. And creamy yellow with it, although these photos are in black and in white.

Now. 'Monsieur Citron' I've just made up right now as a name. He weren't called that, he weren't called anyone. It wasn't even about him. It was all about the Fizzing Lemons. That may have been a better title. So I think I'll add it into the title of this post. Done.

Cats and Whizzers (1988) Part Two

Goodness! More Cats and Whizzers retrieved from the papery vaults of hereabouts.

Well, well. A rare find. Cat in diplomat role sent in to negotiate with rug-claiming horse.
Often wrongly interpreted as cat waking with horse's head in bed. Ugh! Mama Mia!

Sans Surprise, this record is popularly considered pants.
It's actually a - , er....
One thing's certain, that's a dang straight whizzer!

Retiring cat, possibly unwell and off work

Rare companion-piece warlord portraits.

Three cats recharging they-selves.
Guessing it's happening at 'Pads' health spa.

The Promised Land.
Also known as Self-Actualisation in planned chapter of planned Self-Help Thriller!

Cats and Whizzers (1988)

In 1988 I created this series of monoprints plotting the warring ways of neighbourhood cats; chiefly their banded resistance against the stencilled horse of rug occupation. My cats had a singular way of addressing their enemy, being in initials only. "I.I.O.W", they would say ("It Is Our Way"). A selection of the hundreds of battling-and-bad-behaviour records are posted here, discovered as they've been some 23 years on. A comeback (naturally) is planned - but this time to be purposed as a Self-Help Thriller!

(there is no surviving note to interpret this rather noble and medallion-esque declaration)

the photo for this one came out back-to-front, which is fitting as that's how the prints were constructed in the first blinking place. The first line of stencilled horse's response is "I KNOW I HAVE A BAD ATTITUDE"

"GET OFF OUR RUG IMMEDIATELY" and "PLEASE GET OF OUR RUG IMMEDIATELY"

again, a backward photo. The three Whizzers read "WMD" ("WHERE'S MY DINNER?" - These were, just, pre-Gulf times)

a simple Cats & Whizzers interaction 

these Cats & Whizzers are besieged by cleaning equipment, electrically supercharged

Cats & Whizzers on holiday

Cats & Whizzers on TOTP

Cartoon

THE MEETING

A film exposing and celebrating the idiocies, vanities, perversities, duplicities and anxieties of human behaviour and interaction in a 4 hour business meeting. Entirely without sub-plot, histories or allegiance, the film showcases ten individuals' styles, mannerisms and ways of being [er, tautology] as they each play out their roles across the ever-changing, undulating landscape of group dynamics and dysfunctionality.

[heap of stuff about how not like The Office, natch]

Poster / Big Voice:

THEY SAY MEETINGS CAN TAKE ON A LIFE OF THEIR OWN... BUT THIS ONE IS GONNA TAKE YOURS

MILKMEN MAN!

17 year-old Anthony Baker was a kid like no other - for at the slightest sign of danger he could unleash five full-sized milkmen from his jacket's pockets. White-coated, milkman-hatted milkmen, graft-hardened and at once both blunt and sharp, who set about troublemakers and would-be-attackers with clinical, large-fisted efficiency; growling as they did so such catchphrase-esque epithets as "I've been up since half-three and I'm no mood for the likes of you" and "I've to be up at 3.30, so I'm in no mood for your sorts".

Danger dealt with, the milkmen would return to young Tony's jacket... but only so long as their hats were in place. [For some reason] Any milkman parted from his beaked tile would have to hang about discreetly with Tony until the object was discovered or a new hat was got from the outfitters... one hundred miles away!!

We pick up the story at such a cap-related eventuality, in "Le Chapeau Perdu!"

John (hatless milkman barred from pocket post-scuffle): Jesus Tony, you said you were going to keep a stock of them!

Tony: I know, I was going to

John: So why didn't you?

Tony: Have you any idea how much it costs just for one?

John: Christ Tony, if it's the money we can sort it...

Tony: But that's just it - you can't! You're not actual working milkmen. You don't have rounds and you don't get paid. So just keep quiet and let me figure out a way to get that hat!