I hate people who ask for discounts on original art.

So, yeh. Do I look like Camden Market? Your local carboot sale? For sure, I may be a little shabby around the edges, but I do have a certain sense of dignity, people.

Everytime somebody comes into an art exhibition (which I have to pay to have by the way) and they look at my paintings (which are all original pieces of art I have spent hours slaving over to create in the first place) and ask if they can have a discount, a little piece of me dies inside.

It sounds totally lame but when you paint a picture you literally pour everything of yourself into it. Maybe other artists know what I mean?

Anyway, imagine you do this- you create something which contains a little bit of you, an essence of what you are. Then you offer it for sale at a price which is already a steal- but we all have to be realistic, I accept that. And I am trying to build a business here. And after all that malarky, someone moans that £90 is too much and can they have a discount?!

URG. As a young struggling artist with very few beans in my purse, you often feel like you have to go along with it, simply to try and make some sales. And trust me, that money doesn't go into fancy shoes or pints of beers- it goes on canvases and towards paying for the next exhibition hall rent.

So if you want a discount, bugger off to the carboot. Or just stop being so bloody tight!

I'm left feeling a little down by the state of the world sometimes...

So, generally, when I paint or draw pictures and the like, I very much try to concentrate on the simple joys and beauties in life. Some of my work may be somewhat dark, but vitality is what essentially drives me. A celebration of just being here.

There is so much evil in the world, why on earth would I draw even more attention to it in my work? Some do, some make important statements and messages, and that's spiffing. But it aint for me.

And then things happen which just dampen your spirit.

I don't know what sort of beef (yes, I'm cool) all these people who idolise Moat have with the police, but reading about all this malarky over the past few weeks has left me feeling inexplicably sad.

Do people forget he shot and killed an unarmed innocent man? Yes he had been in prison, but people also seem to have forgotten he was in there for a reason- he had hurt a child. And now he's a hero?

I am left agasp at the reactions of these few people across the country, and yes, maybe they have their reasons. But I can fathom no reason to excuse this behaviour.

Definition of He·ro (hîr-o)
n. pl. he·roes
1)A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life.

Martin Luther King was a hero. Full time carers are heroes. Every soldier who fought in the Somme was a hero. Nurses are heroes.

I believe people need to rethink what a hero actually is, and the selfless acts they are known for.
And that 'person' was certainly no hero.

So, my new boyfriends ex-girlfriend is a bit of a nutter...

Good grief.

It is a little frightening to see how much bitterness can eat somebody up. In my 8 years of (often bizzare) experiences since my very first boyfriend (ahh Pete, braces and dates in McDonalds) I have never encountered someone so very manipulative and downright pathetic. Everyone does have their problems with ex's it's true, and I am no exception. But whether you are the new girl or the old one, nothing excuses being such an arse.

I am far to stuck up and have too much pride to say anything about an old boyfriends new piece of ass. I may think it of course- "She is quite hot but I am well cooler and have much better hair, plus Trev told me she did it with Dan on a bus while she was dating Tom, what a skank..." etc etc. But these words would not leave my lips while in conversation with my old boyfriend. Because a) it's mean b) spiteful and c) often total bollocks.

However, my new boyfriend seems to have an ex who is, in fact, looney. Considering she ended the relationship herself due to unfaithfulness, you would think perhaps she may be a little more humble, especially as my man still helped her get work and offered her accomodation with a family member as she is from Australia. Nice, mais oui? Not enough apparently.

In the grand scheme of life one does not slag off your mum, your best mate and your girlfriend. But she managed all three in a recent conversation with my him in the space of roughly 5 minutes. Nice work love! Apparently I'm ugly, definately not as pretty as all his other ex-girlfriends.

How charming.

My feelings were actually a little hurt by this. Why would she say such a thing and be unecessarily obnoxious? I admit I am no ravishing long haired, tight butted goddess, but I'm alroit I reckon. As does my boyfriend.

Oh dear, bit sad really. But meh, I know I'm not a minger and I am also not a loser. I am dating a nice boy, and I draw pretty cool pictures (according to some, naturally I only listen to them as they clearly have excellent taste) and I have lavely mates. What else do you need ey?

So it's June, so obviously it's raining....

...how vastly irritating. Murphy's Law does, I'm convinced, follow me where ever I go. I managed to get myself a part time job afew weeks ago (as, shockingly, being an artist makes you bugger all money, unless you're at ease covering a dirty bed with used condoms or cutting mammals in half) and somehow I ended up working every day last week. And so I stood indoors, gazing out at the sunshine.

This week I have one shift. And it pisses with rain.

Typical.

Mind you, I have felt oddly musey this week. I have been busy doodling away at my cartoons and begun some new paintings.

Is it disturbing that I will sometimes take out old Wuss 'n Boots cartoons and begin laughing hysterically at the jokes. Jokes which I myself came up with. Jokes I know, and have read over and over. Yet still members of my family may bumble into my room and find me giggling ridiculously clutching one of my own drawings.

How odd.

One of these particular cartoons included one based on my childhood. Up until the age of about 9 I genuinely believed dinsaurs were extint because (and I am quoting my father here) they all farted at the same time and poisoned each other. People must have thought I was an idiot child....

I have a sneaky suspicion...

...that musicians are, in fact, egotistical arseholes. And this I am allowed to say because a) I was dragged up by one and b) I am dating one.

I have realised it is very difficult to shimmy along to a gig (or in this case, an open mic night) to support someone you know who is performing, without looking like a mindless groupie. On Thursday night I was literally on the verge of politely asking where it was I had to line up to dish out the various blowjobs to 'the band'. Please.

Musos will talk to each other about how endlessly cool they are, and if you are with the band but don't play an instrument, they presume you are a little band sheep/slapper. I admit, I am fairly egotistical at times- you have to be if you really want to make it in life. But I am also incredibly humble to people who deem me a good artist. Because I am grateful whenever someone bothers to come and look at my work, or sends me a message telling me to keep it up. It is lavely.

My hackles quite literally come a-rising, however, when I am made to feel like a groupie. In fact, why should anyone be seen as a groupie? I am talented in my own right thank you very much, and I am here to support those who have supported me.

The clincher was probably when we were leaving. A chap in the band I was with knew a singer girl (who shall not be named, because I'd quite like to pull out her teeth). The other two members of the band, and myself, met her for the first time at this event. Upon our departure she gave each guy a big hug and a big 'Ohmygodweshouldsototallymeetupanddo musicstuffohmygod'. Coming to me, I began the arm-out-stretch, presuming (foolishly, apparently) that I would recieve similar treatment. Oh no. I got a pat on the arm and a quite patronising 'Nice to meet you'. Charming. Now perhaps she was just being a bit of a bitch, lets be honest. But it felt more than that. It felt like a 'Oh, you were here too weren't you. Like their cheerleader'.

I managed to hold my tongue. Until now.

Victorious at the Fabrika Gallery Competition

So, as sad and tragic as it may seem to you, I was horribly giddy when I was voted as the winning artist at the Fabrika Gallery Open Exhibition. Mainly due to the fact that the last time I won some sort of vaguely arty competition I a) was 6 years old and b) won a £5 book token and c) had made a (admittedly awesome) Christmas mobile of Santa and his reindeers. So yes, winning a two week exhibition in the Nottingham branch of The Art Organisation Gallery was pretty darn cool if I do say so myself.

I admit I could probably have handled the situation with a little more finesse. I looked a little more like a babbling red faced idiot rather than a suave, icy cool arteeest. Typical. When my victory was announced I was so shocked I just giggled like an imbecile (not sexy or mysterious at all), and when some man shouted "Speech!" I replied with "Urrr.....thanks!" How articulate I am in pressured situations.

I went even further when later a gaggle of people were gathered around my winning picture, Lightning Bolt, and some dude asked me what it meant. I replied "It's a girl on a board." Nice. I am sure he went away feeling artistically fulfilled.

Because of course, she isn't just a girl on a board. She is an awesome chick having a ball, doing just what guys do as well. She's effortless, she's sexy, she's brilliant. It's what I try to capture in all my portraits of girls, because essencially, men just aren't as good as us. We are awesome.

So long live Lightning Bolt.

Ru

Art shows and tha'

So this year I have managed to crank up four exhibitions so far....(exclaimations of excitement please!!)
I am currently exhibiting in a joint art show in Fabrika Gallery in Leicester, and in July I will be exhibiting along with other artists from all over the world in the Drawgasmic Show in The Mad Art Gallery, St Louis, USA. Sounds sexy non?! View my page here http://www.drawgasmic.com/artistpage.php?a=1121and click the link below to visit the Drawgasmic site, and if you're a native US of A-er yourself, and St Louis is not too far, go and see the show! (The date is yet to be confirmed, so I expect you to sit waiting avidly for an update. You may have toilet brakes.)


Big love,

Ru

If anyone needed proof of how far out the right hand side of my brain really is, read this. I found it scribbled on paper in a huge pile of drawings/incessant ramblings/old chewing gum;

"I was bestowed upon Melton Mowbray from on high as a mere mortal toddler. Any of you lucky Meltonians over the age of 20 would have felt the sonic boom of my touch down (I'll be frank, I was an incredibly fat baby, words can't even begin to describe my excess knee flab).

I will admit my very early work left a lot to be desired, but hey, I was five. My indecipherable doodles are still pretty much indecipherable, but of a better quality I feel. Now I can address my squiggles and say "Ah, that line is very good. Yes, I'll have another Jaffa Cake for that line." Etc etc. (It's a carrot and stick system I've perfected over the years, only it's called a "Jaffa or no Jaffa" system). "

Oh dear. Actually, while walking down the stairs yesterday I found myself muttering to my various characters in each painting I passed on the way down. Promising one he was in fact my favourite and we had a special bond, but keeping my voice down so the previous one didn't hear, as I had promised her she was my new special one. Hmm. By the time I reached the bottom step, I was seriously considering the possibility I may in fact be a little bit mad.

I do worry about myself sometimes.