Tambourine Jazz Solo
Looking for love
Looking for love
Here are some leftovers from my Instagram account. Regretably everything is of my own creation. Don’t steal, it’s not nice. Stuff ranges from new books I’m working on to the plight of the lonely idiot, a homage to Ronald Searle, a picture of a cat and the album of my alter ego “Roy Morbidson” where I play 96 hours of my own melancholic solo Jazz tambourine compositions.
© D. Archer. July 2017
Physical interaction is hard to come by these days so I have resorted to touching boobs in books in Public Libraries, I am so ashamed of the print quality.
©D.Archer July 2017 (the words and finger, not the picture)
Yak Milking for Fun and Profit
Have you ever wanted to Milk a Yak for fun and profit? I know have, so I wrote this book to help with my mental disorder.
The book is 1,497 pages long, has 9 photographs (4 of them are in focus) and 2 drawings which shouldn’t be show to anyone under 21.
©D.ARCHER. JULY 2017
You’re never alone if you have a cat. I don’t have a cat.
Tree of Hope, Locke Park, Barnsley.
It’s been a while but due to the useless shenaningans on Instagram I’ve decided to post loads of my recent
crap doodles back up on here. Apologies in advance if i’ve posted stuff before but think yourself lucky I can be bothered at all.
Enjoy, or don’t, I’m not fussed. Everything listed is mine, mine, mine I tell you!! Steal it and I will find you and bore you to death with stories of coal mining in Yorkshire.
© D. Archer. July 2017
Apologies for the wonky photograph and for the wonky artwork come to think of it. More Abstracts, this time with under painting and reveal technique. Acrylic on canvas, 7″ x 5″, available to buy at £17,000,000.48
However, I am prepared to enter into a medieval bartering type arrangement. So, if you think this painting is worth a loaf of bread then send one slice per envelope per week to my home address and I will send the painting by return post when I receive the final crust.
Please include cost of return postage, I’m not made of chuffin’ money.
Words and Pictures © D. Archer. January 2016.
I don’t dream. I put this down to the prolonged period of insomnia that I suffered after my divorce, however, I have recently been waking up with fragments of an image that has coincided with my rekindled interest in painting.
I’m colour blind; good old fashioned Red / Green combo and this has always been a crutch to stop myself from painting. Who wants a violet sky and magenta grass? Well it turns out that plenty of people do provided the piece is well executed and within an abstract framework, and there lies the dilemma.
Painting abstracts, to me, is not about “Not being able to paint properly” or “Not having studied for X years at Art School”, it is primarily concerned with expression and partly about technique; the proportions of these two factors is what divides the opinion. I suppose the “Expression ‘v’ Technique” debate is the art world equivalent of the chicken and the egg scenario.
We live in an existential world, trees grow upwards, grass is green, sky is on top etc. To challenge these representations (visually) means to think and to think is a powerful life skill.
It is said as humans we use only 10% of our brain’s capacity and the average time spent looking at artwork in a gallery is less than 30 seconds and in that 30 seconds we make broad sweeping generalisations not only about the piece “Doesn’t look like a tree” but also about the artist “My kid could do that” so may I suggest that if your child can emote like Jackson Pollock then nurture and treasure that child beyond your earthly years for they have that rare and precious gift of independent thought.
My artwork is my own, through my eyes, echoes of my past and shaped by my hand. If this piece progresses my painterly technique that’s a bonus; If it strikes a chord with another human well that’s much better but if it hangs on my wall and engages my thoughts every time I look at it then it has achieved it’s purpose.
Abstracts are about painting the emotion not the object. If you want a picture, take a photograph.
Words and Pictures © D. Archer. December 2015
Saucy Post Card
Not many people know this but before Rembrandt Van Rijn was famous for his matchstick men and women paintings he had a nice little earner producing saucy seaside postcards.
In the olden days the pancreas was thought to be where orgasms came from.
Most people couldn’t afford to have a portrait of themselves done for Christmas or to put on a tea-towel or a mug so they would go down to the harbour and wait for Rembrandt to sail past in his boat. Rembrandt would shout out the names of famous footballers (or Soccer players if the peasants looked American) and if the person on the dockside could make a rude anagram out of the name then Rembrandt would come ashore and paint them for free.
In 1985 when Rembrandt died it was estimated that he had been dead for a lot longer.
Rembrandt loved to paint cars and in his spare time he would go to the local car park and tip paint all over the cars that were parked in the disabled bays without a blue badge.
Rembrandt was also the name of my first cat but he couldn’t paint at all he just looked at me funny when I took my trousers off.
I miss that cat.
In 1986 Rembrandt (the artist, not my cat) was still dead. My cat, Rembrandt, strangely enough died in 1987. I didn’t wear any trousers for a whole year as a mark of respect.
I spent 1988 in prison for indecent exposure and it was whilst in Prison that I learned that Rembrandt (the artist, not my cat) was also a great saxophone player and even had a chance to record an album with David Hasselhoff (HasselHoff translated directly from the German/Austrian/Bulgarian dialect actually means “Shrunken-Sperm”).
It was also around this time I was admitted to hospital for what was to be the first of many psychotic episodes. They told me that everything would be OK if I just kept taking my tablets and never ever started a blog on the internet.
Are you still reading this?
Words © D. Archer. Pictures by RVJ.
In order to rise some cash I have released my poetry anthology early, in fact so early that there are 356 blank pages at the back of the book for colouring in or making shopping lists or for all your hate mail practice letters.
There is a limited edition print run of 17 million copies and each and every one of them comes with a FREE DISEASE (I’m not telling you which one exactly but don’t scratch your privates or your lady garden).
I have struck a deal for this volume to be sold through all outlets of “Chest Infections Direct”, the walk in store where you can buy phlegm in bulk. Each copy sold will generate 0.0000000000000000000000000000000001 pence for “Save the Plankton” a cause close to my heart.
The picture is not to scale. Due to a minor publishing miscalculation the book is actually 2′ 6″ thick and in hindsight printing on Asbestos paper may not have been the best idea. Standard Postage is £33,768.
Remember….”Chest Infections Direct” – Your One Stop Shop for Coughs!
Words and Pictures © D. Archer . December 2015