This is a series of paintings where I paint school teachers from memory, trying to get their essence in quick paintings from my cloudy mind. I then write here any memories conjured up. Mr Blair was a pleasant enough teacher. He was tall, camp and moved around in a carefree fashion. I didn’t understand much of what he said because he tended to speak in French quite a bit. He seemed like a practical man who didn’t waste his effort in a direction where he knew it wouldn’t be eff

80's Primary School Teacher, Acrylic on canvas, 40 by 40cm This is the ninth in my Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories series. Sometimes little events can seemingly have a big impact on your life. This one did, and I’m not even sure if it was for better or worse. Later on in my school life I had teachers do worse things to me, like bullying me, hitting me, being generally nasty, but none of that effected me, this event did though. Even at a young age I could tell which te

'Thrown Out' Acrylic on canvas board 30 by 40cm This is the eighth in my ‘Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series. There's not much of a story behind this painting, a moment in time, a snapshot of pointlessness, pertinent in its depiction of a previous me. I went to dad’s bedsit as I often did, in lieu of school, to get drunk and a maybe a little stoned, to kill five or six hours. He must have been flush because he took me down the boozer. (that’s not how I talk.) The

This is the seventh in my Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories series. ‘Shooting Teddies’ 30 by 40cm acrylic on canvas board.   Oh dad. What a daft drunken fuckery your time on this earth was. You passed it onto me, an inherited addiction running through my veins. The ocean of alcohol never sunk me though, like it did you. My life broke into pieces around me and sank into the darkness. I somehow managed to stay afloat. Hanging on to a bit of flotsam hope. A dull spark with

'Stick To Road Lads' Acrylic on canvas board 16 by 16" This is the fifth in my ‘Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series On the run-down estate where I grew up, dishevelled dogs would roam, unaccompanied, sometimes in small packs, mooching about the dystopian landscape. I was scared of these semi-wild animals. Some would mostly leave me alone, sniffing around at a distance. I’d keep my eye on them, like a safari ranger, staying alert to the threat of danger, spotting m

'Dad Gets His Throat Cut' Acrylic on canvas board 40 x 30cm This is the fifth in the painting of my ‘Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series. The series begins with the blog post 'Broken Man (rewrite) if you'd like to read the others just scroll down the blog feed and start there. It's funny, but when I was starting this series, I trawled through my mind, jotting down ideas in a notebook, thinking of things that had impacted my life in some way and yet this peculiar e

'School Schmool' Acrylic on canvas board 40 by 30cm This is the fourth painting in my ‘Strange & Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series. I hadn’t seen my dad since I was about seven years old, and only sporadically before then. I didn’t like him much. My mum had told me many times what an awful man he was ( but you had a load of kids with him ). She said he used to hit her, I never saw that but have no reason not to believe her because he was an awful drunk. She also told me how

This is the third painting in my ‘Strange & Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series. ‘We Were Quite Poor’ acrylic on canvas board 30 by 40cm. There’s a Monty Python Sketch called ‘The Four Yorkshiremen’ where the characters are trying to outdo each other with increasingly ludicrous tales of their poverty-stricken childhoods. When I hear that sketch, I imagine that’s how I must sound when talking about my upbringing and I wait for a voice in my head to play down my recollections w

This is the second painting in my ‘Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories’ series. It is tragic in what it represents. I’ve been asked if doing these paintings is upsetting or emotionally draining for me and the truth is, it isn’t. My life is different now and better than it’s ever been, when I produce work based on these odd memories, it’s like I’m painting and writing about the life of another, or a past incarnation maybe. I’ve had problems, mentally, throughout my life. N

This painting called 'Broken Man' was the first in a series I worked on between 2021 and 2024 called ‘Strange and Sometimes Troubled Memories.’ I would think of a memory, paint it, then write a quick blog post about it and hit publish, without editing. I’m rewriting the original posts as I want to create a book featuring them alongside the paintings once I have the funds to do so. I’m not a writer, my meagre education fizzled out by the time I was a teenager, but I didn’t see

The English Teacher by Jack Greenwood Mrs Agnes was feared by most children. Her classroom sat at the side of the assembly hall to the left of the stage. On the opposite wall were large wooden climbing frames which could pivot out on wheels and lock into place to turn the hall into a gymnasium. Green rubber mats with browning honeycomb undersides would be thrown down, thick ropes which hung from ceiling beams would be freed from the leather straps which held them to the wall.

The Music Teacher I had the idea to paint some school teachers from memory then write up little things I remember about that teacher. This is the first one. Please subscribe to my blog and share if you like as it really helps me get my art out into the world. Thanks for looking. We took our music lessons in a temporary terrapin classroom which was slung at the bottom of our grey school yard which lay on the edge of a very large sprawling landscaped cemetery. A couple of grave

As Some of you may know, in 2023 I was approached by an award winning filmmaker called Jason King who wanted to make a documentary about me. When he realised I was just completing this series of paintings he decided that he wanted to make a film about the stories behind these paintings. The film is just about complete and now we are going live with a Crowdfunder today Thursday 18th Jan 2024 at 7pm. We understand not everyone can donate but if you could look at our Crowdfunder

This painting is unfinished and I think I'm going to leave it that way. I reckon it's a fitting end to the 'Strange & Sometimes Troubled Memories' series. It's called Me Painting Me. This has no memory attached and is just a conclusion painting to show how far I’ve come from being that waster, how I've managed to find some semblance of peace. Life is far from perfect now but at least I'm not quite as much of a loser as I once was. When I look back at all these times it’s like

Bella did her best to help me but sometimes people are beyond help until something clicks and they manage to pull themselves out of a situation. With her help though I managed to cut down drinking a bit but was still not in a good way. She decided to take me camping for a long weekend to cheer me up. We loved camping and always had the nicest times. Even though we were broken up it was lovely for both of us to get away, out in nature and fully relax. Bella would usually snooz

After my panic attack and ringing the doctors I got an appointment the next day, this was thirteen years ago and it feels strange now that you could just ring up and get to see a doctor so quickly. I didn't like going to the doctors, I didn't like doctors from past experience and they didn't like me for some reason, no matter how polite I was, maybe it's because they could see what a fuck up I was and didn't look after myself. I can't remember all the details of that visit bu

After I started drinking again it quickly turned into heavy drinking, which Bella couldn't stand so we separated. I moved into a bedsit in a shared house with six other bedsits in, occupied by the sort of people who end up in a place like that. People who's lives had gone wrong. I had been burning the candle at both ends, working 60 - 80 hours a week, sometimes more and being off my face the whole time. When I wasn't in work I was blacked out to forget about work and my unfor

After living under London Bridge Station I moved in with a girl I got together with. We had a rather full on passionate relationship which only lasted about a year and a half. We were completely different. She was a 'high on life' type of girl who loved having adventures, travelling the world and living life to the fullest and I was a drunk and just stayed in my room. She saw the crescent, I saw the whole of the moon,...sorry. I was also a very jealous boyfriend and didn't li

I've have been quite fortunate in the past because although I've been homeless a few times, I've never been on the streets. Whether it's people I've known a while or someone I've just met, I've always had a couch to stay on due to the kindness of others. I wouldn't last two minutes on the streets, I'm more of a walk off into the woods to die sort of person. One time, I'd just broken up with my girlfriend and had nowhere to go though. Luckily I was the warehouse manager of a f

Until I met my first serious girlfriend I hadn’t met many people that I’d liked that much. I tolerated people more than liked them. When we got together though it was true love. I’d seen her around college but never dared talk to her. She hung around with the cool crowd and I was the sort of person that struggled not to shake when talking to people. She’d sit with a big group of people in the college canteen, and I’d sit mainly alone, getting stoned in the corner. One boxing