And I didn’t even plan the title. I swear. KarlLage?! Are you kidding me here? It’s a collage featuring a young Karl Lagerfeld? It certainly does appear that all of my linguistic Christmases have come at once.

Anyway, the collage – Again it’s pigment and water, white acrylic paint and black ink pen. The imagery comes from Interview Magazine (edited by Andy Warhol)The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine book by Max Wilk and Lee Minoff and some wrapping paper from the 60’s that I found. It’s about having to be stern when you really just want to carry on like a pork chop. Karl’s got his standard expression with a sneaky Mona Lisa smirk creeping through while he lays down the law.

Be a sport.

Please stop being so wicked.

KarlLage. I mean really.

Collage-nikov : Sausage Man


Went to Ikea, bought a bed frame. Went back to Ikea, bought a picture frame and…BANG! (There’s that kalashnikov reference we were looking for) Made a collage.

The detail is pretty rubbishy online as it’s such a big image (about 80 x 60 cm) and I took a terrible photo on my iphone (I promise to get better at it), but its a collection of images from various sources (movie poster, Interview Magazine, Archetype Magazine, a Dictionary written from some guy’s personal experience) and some handy work of my own using loose pigment and water, white acrylic paint and black ink pen. It’s basically all about Peter Thompson (the local butcher from Mona Vale where I grew up – we called him Peter Thompson Sausage Man) moving to Tasmania. The story seemed to speak nicely to the images.

Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Did you hear about Peter Thompson Sausage Man?

You mean the butcher in Mona vale who looks like this: [drawing of Peter Thompson with sausages and a cleaver]? And who makes those little tiny pork sausages that are so nice with a big family roast?

Yes! Peter Thompson who used to give us a free sausage in a bag when Mum went in to buy dinner!

Oh, I thought that was the butcher by Franklins and Peter Thompson is on Pittwater Road.

Oh. You might be right.


Anyway, I think he’s moving to Tasmania.

Hanging this thing up in my new SF room until I become such a highly sought-after artiste that thieves are literally breaking into my house to steal my stuff and sell it online for exorbitant amounts of ca$h money to art lovers who want to put them in shrines. That’s me – the art lover trying to buy my stuff back. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have made ‘art lovers’ and ‘shrines’ plural.