20 December 2009
06 December 2009
01 December 2009
Sea Eagles
Live brief set by the RSPB to come up with an idea for a site specific work to raise public awareness for one of their latest initiatives - re-introducing the White-tailed Sea Eagle back into Scotland.
It resolved itself in two forms - a TO LET sign for a nesting site and a Welcome Home banner - both unusual items to find in the forest = passers by are intrigued and awareness is raised.
23 November 2009
11 September 2009
26 August 2009
Colour Days
A summer project for Uni. Illustrate 7 different emotions or feelings through the use of colour. Instead of doing abstract stuff (boooo) I've decided to illustrate 7 different places (back home in Belfast and in Dundee) that I go to, or find myself at when I'm feeling a certain way. They are coloured in tones that suggest a certain emotion. These 3 are places in Belfast.
28 July 2009
14 July 2009
29 June 2009
27 June 2009
Worn
'The rain felt like great relief today-the city is worn out after all the sun, this heat. The rain clouds were getting much to fat for their own liking.'
13 April 2009
To A Robin
You are dead now, poor thing.
The snag of hunger was too much for you,
Tight little ball of life
Paused.
All outstretched.
Your brightness withdraws,
An abandonment to decay.
No gentle oblivion of the earth awaits,
Just the sound of bones
Atop a concrete grave
And an epitaph of distaste
From the passers by.
Poem by Helen Woodroof, Illustration by myself
12 April 2009
Magic Shoes
They were gold and glittery
And as I left the shop
Clutching my new treasures
The shop assistant warned me
Not to wear them in the rain.
I guarded them jealously
From the elements, as I imagined
The water would make
The glitter run off, leaving me
Standing in puddles of liquid gold.
And I was caught out
One day by the rain.
But as the umbrellas went up,
All that fell with the drops
Was a sense of disappointment.
Poem by Helen Woodroof, Illustration by myself
09 April 2009
Innocence
It smells like the hot, wet tarmac,
The sensual, heavy smell, the
Fertility of the earth oozing through
The cracks.
And we flew over its surface
Young and shining and
Unaware of this adult torture
The sick games we play.
When a boy was just a boy and not
An enemy, a counterpart in
These bizarre dances,
These ever shrinking circles.
We stalk around each other.
And as the years slip by,
The puzzle fills in, the
Truth weighs us down, the ins
And outs, the mechanics.
Until one day,
We’re not children any more.
A Collaborative work. Poem by Helen Woodroof, Illustration by myself.
20 March 2009
11 March 2009
02 March 2009
24 February 2009
20 February 2009
17 February 2009
09 February 2009
08 January 2009
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