MARK WYNN

Observe Acrylic Woodland. Wander in it. There may well be Acrylic Deer near to here. But I  haven’t painted any. I might do, but they don’t stop in front of my easel long enough. Do you know of any tricks to alter this? Will they halt if it is hammer time and it stops.  Stop.., and so on… (Looks at me funny and disappears off into the  painted trees) Maybe the best thing to do is paint one out of a book, but that is not my image, it’s theirs.  It raises the hairs on the shoulders?  Yes. I have one hair on one of them I think, but which one. Acrylic Woodland will not answer, and it will freeze if it snows and go to mush if it rains. Perhaps I should apply some kind of lacquer to Acrylic Woodland to protect it from the elements. Some kind of Liqueur? I can’t pronounce it but no. Like a varnish or something.  No don’t do that. Okay.

​ Meet Acrylic Tony. I painted him in the garage Victoria calls the shed. I put the acrylic paper pad on the step ladder and I got to work on him.  Tony is from Jarra. He drinks his tea, he smokes his tabs. He inquires of the latest purchase, ‘Ow much?!’  You may have seen him around the urban landscape, observing and taking pictures to flick on his tablet and check against the old maps.  This tunnel must have gone from here to here. But why was this bit here? That is Tonyio. As I said, you may have seen him around. But you might not have, cos ‘I haven’t even crossed the doors, Mark’ is occasionally something he says to me.  This picture of him is likely from the summer. In the summer he sits on his seat in the front garden, and prunes and trains his box, He has a cracking rose bush that goes right up and around the door. He tans at a remarkable pace. 

​ I said there was more Henry, and there is more Henry. This is Henry in pencil. I drew him at the dinner table and got graphite all over it.  I was instructed that this was bad business; I should avoid it in future.  Drawing Henry in pencil? At the dinner table, yes. What about drawing myself in pencil after watching Alan Carr lie cheat steal and deceive, and before bed, at the table in my little room.  Is this the dinner table? No, it is a picture of me taking a picture of myself in the car before wandering into a strangers house, giving them a laxido and washing their back.  That’s okay then. Just don’t try and eat your dinner off it. I plan not to, specifically. 

​ This is Ronnie Wood getting his make up done. He is on tour with the Stones somewhere, but he can’t remember where.  And if he can’t remember where,  how’m I supposed to I be expected to! Debbie’s note: No one is expecting you to do this. (Ignores his secretary) No, I will have to say Dewsbury. ‘It can’t be?!’ said Mr’s Miggins the train driver.  I know, but it could be, couldn’t it, Miggie.  ‘No, it is entirely unlikely. In fact, I don’t think they ever played in dewsbury.’ Not even on the Urban Jungle Tour, 1989-1990? ‘No.’ Anyway. I drew him on a piece of paper in my mum’s house whilst awaiting the possible return of my dad from town. He dis return and we had ten minutes marvellous chat and did not think Leeds would be too game on match of the day even once, let alone three in a row

​ This is Henry. I painted him in the garage that Victoria calls a shed. I put the acrylic paper pad upon the step ladder and set to work. Henry is a chap I read a lot of on trains and buses when I was pretending to be a wild and roving chap like I had read about in the books and magazines when I was 24. Some of it was about shagging and quite embarrassing to read on public transport, but the bits that were about acceptance, becoming and being an artist were right up my rhododendrons.  I’ve tried reading him now, mainly the bits I underlined in the books that survived all the back and forths on public transport, and some of it is appealing and some not so much - similar to how it was then. But it was the idea of him and the approach that was most appealing. The licence to just call yourself an artist or writer or whatever, and make your books and paintings and songs, and to hell with anyone else. This was Henry Miller to me, which, as previously stated, is a little embarrassing wha...

I have been writing things and I have started painting things. I appear also to have started laying some boogie things.  Which, I think means that I am writing, painting and playing music, and that I am going to send them to the screen. Mainly I have been writing for years, but that has took donkeys, resulting in one release in ages called 'A Walk to New Earswick'. More of an expedition really. As previously stated, it took donkeys. But I will be sending another one to the screen. This is called 'The Boyes and The Boogie'. And I have actually started painting, so, if I can bring myself to put my email back on my phone, I will be taking pictures of them and sending them here. Finally, the boogie. I am writing some things down in a notebook and will record them in some way with Sam, because it is good to boogie rough, and because there must be laughter add the peculiar parts, and so on...