The Deformed Mass

As craft furniture becomes swallowed by its' own self importance I can't help but recall why I left that studio in Wiltshire. As vanity, the like of which I have not seen before or since, from old stalwart and novices alike crushed the love I heald for my chosen profession, a wise head was not there. Just an encouragment of pomposity. I watched as desperatly young makers yearned for attention like spoilt children, snatching any drop of attention cast thier way. I had thought there was a purity, a lack of selfishness yet I learned and saw the twisted souls, who, when the approval passed lost all sense of self. They ceased to exist if not noticed.
I recall the Jerwood Prize for Furniture 1999 and those who seriously thought they may be considered, oblivious to where the eye of culture looked, and the sense of loss they felt having thier offerings rejected.
My opinions of others motives were changed and I sought solace across the border. Should not your belief hold strong regardless of small bodies who sit casting judgement on things they barely know? and should anyone, seriously care? I thought not and retreated. Friendships lay soiled and broken by this hunger for attention. I shall never forget being told by who I thought of as friend that they may not be able to talk to me because of whom they sought to please. Deep was my saddness and sore is my respect.
Your friends should never be dropped for the sake of your career. Where would you sleep when cast adrift and the lights and glitter have blown away? Alone is the answer, alone.

The Fall - Pumpkin head Xscapes

Tonight the streets were strewn with satanist children hungry for blood. Parents led them around, not a swede in sight. What happened to our culture? A coka cola vomit splash of exported pagan gems twisted to the nub and fired back across the Atlantic. The shame of it all.

The King of the Mendips RIP

Sadly, Skreeworld has to report that an 'incomer' shot the largest rat in Frome, allegedly a trophy hunter. The King, a rat whos' tail, alone stretched a good 4 feet in length was shot this week. Reports are murky though local rat hunters say a land owner sold a sighting of the King who had strayed on to land he rarely strayed in to rang a japanese airifle enthusiast who shot his Majesty. Local pest control air gun enthusiasts had preserved the King for his genes, often prefering to photograph the noble beast.
The King, reportedly was hit by over 40 pellets as he struggled toward the river Frome where he swam off wounded. Some say, on dark wind swept nights, he has been seen. In shadow, perhaps his ghost can be heard squeeling his anger at the coward who dared try murder the noble beast.
Meanwhile, the emporer turns out to be any red deer stag of 14 or more point antlers. The one alleged to have been shot on Exmoor was in decline, down to 16, less than previous years. Some have 30. His ghost, too stalks the moor, tearful clutching Excalibur in his jaws.

Exmoor Emperor Mission

We understand that Exmoor must be plagued by journalists and ousiders suddenly taking an interest however, the only true voice of reason, Skreeworld, makes our journey there this weekend to bring you the true story from the mouth of the genuine moorfolk bumpkins themselves. As 'Townys' we understand that it is always better to be an incomer than an inbreeder.

Dirty tactics

From our bunker we post. From all sides we are attacked. Our rifle posts hold strong against rat attack. The Anti Art vultures circle overhead, silent, bereft of the faculty of exchange. Dumb to our vision. We hold tight in the bunker. Our vision, a 3d discourse with the outer world, smuggled across thier borders. Chunks of reality, spat out in to the conspiracies world view. Thier is only one route in accessible by vehicles protected by noble supporters. The secret escape routes are closely watched. They may prevent road travel yet the other elements, air, water and fire shall always be our salvation. Though mud may sludge the fleet of foot, dexterity of other elements shall carry us forth.

Raw Power

I chose this life didnt I?

Ari Up RIP

Slits front girl was abused by fans of Wakefield band The Cribs who asked them to play support band at one of thier gigs last year. The Cribs were in tears at thier fanbases lack of musical and cultural historical awareness. I first saw the Cribs supporting the Sex Pistols at Brixton Academy a few years back. They went down badly too. The connection, of course is that Ari Up was John Lydons daughter in law, his marriage to her mother has always been well hidden or steered away from in the press. Ari Up was 14 when she played her first Slits gigs. From a wealthy background she fitted in well with the London punk scene where a variety of backgrounds met up to change culture. The Slits were not really musically significant. Thier cultural significance immense. I recall buying thier first album that fired out a visceral female take on the world, enough to droop any early pubescent hard on I had for them. I can think of no other female band that distorted gender preconceptions or stereotypes quite as the Slits did. If thier is one band to represent London punk it should be the Slits, Pistols history is too wrapped up in crap to see thier purity anymore. The Sex Pistols were punk, John Lydon, Malcolm McClarren, Vivenne Westwood, Steve Jones, Glenn Matlock, Paul Cook, Jamie Reed. The Slits and Ari Up, beyond punk.

The Emperer RIP

Here at Skreeworld we are confused as to how to feel regarding the killing of Britains largest known wild animal. Locally, now nationally known as The Emperor, the red deer stag who, with antlers, stood 9 feet tall has been bagged by a trophy hunter. Apparently the beast strayed from the woodland he normally occupied, Worthy Folly where he, and his hinds were protected. The owner of the adjacent land phoned up a trophy hunter who shot him. Local huntsmen had preserved him as a local legend, the anger thier appears to be, largely over an outsider taking him out. A lot of bullshit regarding his genetic coding not being allowed to be passed on as he has been shot prior to the rut. This seems a little daft as it wasn't his sole season and his size seems largely due to luck and the fortune of having proteted status. Still, though these arguments are poor ones it still strikes us a little unsporting to take out a local treasure, legend even. One can imagine great folk songs of how the mighty Emperor was killed by a towny for trophy reasons, his ghost still haunts the moor. Or a hollywood style film, crying child runs in tofarmhouse, 'Daddy, Daddy, they've kiled the Emperor!', 'Where is my gun, I shall track his killer down if its' the last thing I do.'
I shoot, I am no soft heart anthropomorphosist, yet I personally would never have taken down a majestic creature of this magnitude. It calls to mind the film 'The Murder of Jesse James by the coward Roert Ford.'
There are some shots I would never take and this is one. I kill for meat. A pheasent fills my belly as I type. I shoot rats that raid Mags chickens feed for sport. I enjoy hunting. A feeling, an emotion my life wold have been a poorer place for. I respect vegetarians. The ones I have little time for are omnivores who can't face up to what they do.
I digress. The world is a lesser place for the Emperors' loss. I hope whoever shot him enjoyed a buzz that equates to this.

Remembering Andrea Dunbar

Andrea, love, fuck 'em eh?

Go see The Arbor

George Shaw

Skrees' favourite contemporary painter is George Shaw. His visual dialogue of Coventry is close to the Skree worldview. His work can currently be seen at the British Art 7 show; in the days of the comet. Nottingham Castle Museum and New Art Exchange until january 9th 2011.

Leeds Rhinos 33-26 St Helens Challenge Cup Semi Final 2003

Apologies for the poor quality footage but after the previous two clips, first illustating why Brian McDermott may be seen as a controversial choice for Leeds coach, the second to illustrate both why he lost his rag against Leeds and to show why Newton got banned. Just a quick reminder of why Rugby League is the greatest game of all. This semi against Saints was amongst the best games I have ever seen. It also set the precedent of Leeds domination of a legendary Saints side when it really mattered. The Leeds rebuild, Saints too may take a while. It looks like Wigan for a year or wo. My ptayers are with Warrington, a rugby league town that deserves more success and may well be Wigans main rivals come next year.

No sport apart from boxing till february, I promise.

Terry Newton- St Helens V Wigan 2005

Perhaps it is worth looking at a little of Newton, who I myself, posted a tearful blog after he took his life. In the Brian McDermott clip, he is the first player Brian swings at. Though we are sad that Newton is no longer with us, he was a dangerous player. Brian may well have had reason to twat him. He risked others players careers in his steroid rages.

Brian McDermott

New Leeds coach in action against Leeds

Brian McClennan

Leeds RL coach resigned today. Diskin moved to the Dullards. Perhaps it is time for a change, the team were unbalanced this year. 3 years as Champions is a record it will take time to beat. I hope we get a new coach and team together to stop the resurgent Wigan side. The England v NZ game was enjoyable, certainly the second half. Our last chance is against Aus next weekend and it isn't beyond us. Great to see a young team coming through. Anyone who doesnt watch Rugby League, start now. The Greatest Game of All. Brian McDermott seems a bit of a temporary solution though. The loss of Donald and all others puts us in transition. Unless Hetheringtons trip down under brings some reward one can only feel we have to be prepared for a mid table year or two. Realising, now that McClennan had his sights set for NRL mid last season makes me wonder why he didn't fuck off back down under then. We, as fans, were embarrassed, as champions throughout last season. The days of Tony Smith are gone. Hard to figure out from where a champion side, and that is what we expect, can emerge from.
Two times in my life, once as a child, then Smiths build and McClennans sides have dominated. Will I live to see another Leeds side achieve these hieghts? I sleep ill in worry awaiting what Hetherington can bring. Our academy cannot provide the spine, Sinfield, Burrow, Maguire are ageing. This recent champion Leeds side made life worth living. Come on Leeds, sort it out!

Kipper, where the fuck are you?

There are buildings to climb, work to do. Come on! get your bastard phone fixed. Also, I'm worried about you. I am here, sort your shit out.

A brief breakdown in communication

Sunday Morning

Teddy Boy

Chris

Chris will never be forgotten. His privacy not invaded. We walked these same streets, the same town background. We sheltered under the same roof. Each time I pass his door tears fall. Without cliche I say Rest in Peace. Shared moments were too few. A gentleman to the end. This world is a lesser place for your passing.

Let it never be said, that romance is dead

THE WURZELS - Promo Video for their NEW SINGLE!!! 'Ruby Ruby Ruby!'

Here at Skreeworld we are serious and long time fans of the Wurzels. We regularly see the band live, know Pete and Tommy and always support thier work, withot irony. From the early work of Adge Cutler, the bard of Avonmouth through to the present day, the Wurzels have been one of this countries greatest live bands. We take our scrumpy seriously and strongly defend the taxation laxity on the fermented juice of the apple. Though, as purists, we have a solemn respect for the purity of the days of Adge and will always keep his name alive and remembered for his genius, we also respect the work from the heady summer of '76 when the nation was awash with cyderdelia, the lyrical dexterity of the chart hits,'I drove ny tractor through your haystack last night', even 'buggered if I don't get him' from the Pete Budd penned Blackbird slipped by the censors in the same year the relatively tame lyric of 'Anarchy in the UK' brought radio bans. I confess, it wasn't until I moved to the West Country and saw the Wurzels on the tailend of a 4 day MDMA marathon that I discovered thier true majesty. That night, with eyes like saucers, we mfirst met Pete and Tommy. They saw through our drugged state, we saw through thier scrumpy polished cheeks, we had a realisatin of common goals. They knew we were no satyrical, ironic fans but true appreciators of thier work. For me personally, to finally meet Pete, after seeing him as a child on 'Top of the Pops' when I could barely grasp the complexity, humour ad politics of his work, to meet him as a adult was a truly wonderful experience. Since then, Skreeworld has been in full support. The 'Never mind the Bullocks' album came out to boldly state that they are a band of today, the new 'More Bullocks' another masterwork and now this mighty single to promote in Petes' 70th year shows that thier will always be more cyder in the jar, just as the sorely missed Adge promised way back in 1966 when I was a baby. The Fall may have been the primary soundtrack to my life but Scrumpy and Western will forever be a part of Skreeworld. Check out www.wurzelworld.com for up to date info.

The Scaffold - Lily The Pink

this was the first record I was bought, aged 3 or 4. My life subsequently has been plagued by drink and over indulgence in medicinal compounds. The guy in the middle, I should know his name, famous Tiswas star I met when he came to see the art shows of my students whilst I was teaching at Wolverhampton university. A prize for reminding me of his name. Great bloke.

Chris RIP

Chris who lived downstairs has sadly died. This house is in mourning for a gentleman whos troubles proved too much. There is a gap, a hole that can never be filled.
We love you Chris, wherever you are now.

Skree, Tex,  Claire

Nick Cave God is in the house (at later)

Hunting

There is a hormone that kicks in when hunting. It puts you solely in the moment, no past, no future, just that space, free from all worry or distraction. Sex is the only thing to compare yet this comparrison fails with modern baggage. It is primievel, beyond morralitty. Drugs are the only things close, perhaps climbing up buildings.
I shot a pheasent today, took a life, plucked and deconstructed the animal whilst warm. Tonight I shared food with my dog. The hunt, the feed brings us so close I can not compare it to anything. I shot some rats that have been feeding on the chickens food. This is great sport and I feel no guilt. It triggers the same hormones to an extent. Glands plse out messages. It beats religion. Just killing isn't the same as the wholekill and eat thing though. Taking a life to perpetuate ones own.
To my mind, the animal rights concept is inverse to the truth. Rather than elevate animals to having our rights status, we are, ourselves animals. Fighting, fucking, raping, murdering as all predatory animals do. This is no question of morrallity bt a question of what we are.

Beauty

I have paid the price

For sticking my head above the parrapet and pointing out how a genuinly democratic discussion group has been hijacked by a bunch of unionistic megalomaniacs. FDMA never tried to gain support but latched, limpet like, leech like, lamprey like on to an existing body. Had they any dignity they would have done thier own work, yet self appointed they stole the aqumulation of likeminded souls and engaged in a coup. What sad soul seeks power in this way?

Lesser Spotted Woodpecker

Autumnal morning

Woke to e mither from an arsepipe called Jonathon Malkovitz, a true wankbox. Set me up to go traipsing through frosty fields with Tex looking for prey. Just saw other beautiful predators. Dug in to work, once the burner was lit. Tried to shoot rats but just enjoyed making stuff and autumness. The evening came and took M to see W in the hospital, rewards were nil. Celebrated 20 10 20 10 2010 listening to the car radio outside a hospital. Bit of a shit day in all.

FDMA Fundamental Faults

A democratic forum developed through mutual trade, art interest. This was used to promote a self elected leadership under false claims. No fault could be blamed if a suggestion to a link to construct a seperate forum. This did not happen. One piece of spam through a posting by John Beer advertised a gambling site. This was nothing like as insidious as using the forum as a vehicle for a self elected body to promote thier ideas. Forum members were led to believe that they would be excommunicated or side ligned were the not to take part in this coup. The DMOU forum includes many from the original crafts revival of the 1970s. The FDMA is a self appointed constitution of second generation makers seeking to promote themselves as leaders. All they offer already exists bar hier self interest. A large proportion of the DMOU forum are young and flattered to be seen alongside the more established makers. Thier blood will be used to promote the self appointed parliament. Thier misake lies in the belief that association with the fading second genertion will bring them reward or respect. The truth is the new young work stands a better chance away from this period. Things are changing. Great new work was selected to be shown at London Design Week. The FDMA seeks to gain attention from the first successful bunch and the new faces breaking through. This middle generation failed to make any cultural impact. Do you want them as leaders?

Ketamin fishing return

Went back to the scene of the ketamin fishing expedition today. As regular followers will remember the nightmare night of hook line and sinker, me being the sinker from this very platform. Kipper had already tried to burrow under the lake of polished stainless steel when I tried a little spnning at 4 in the morning. The platform remains unrepaired from my plunge.

Autumn is better than Art

Its' e3verywhere you look. Frieze art week makes me hate art and flee the city. The papers wont leave you alone, Takishi Murakamis great show in France, Damien makes two big sales to showhe's still in the game, a host of new artists are put forward, few with art but all with ideas, Kapour is still pumping out his soulless monsters that say nothing about the human condition but mess with your senses for those who missed out on drugs, Steve Lazarides tunnel show, the man who made Banksy rich, has a miserable mess for those who never leave the city. Meanwhile autumn shows its' wonder for free. Only a hungry, sad man would have wasted this week in London.

love

The Fall - I'm Into C B

my fathers not bad really

FDMA

I belong to a forum. A group of people have chosen to use the build up of names to promote a domination, the tragic pathos of these individuals is beyond a joke.

Fissure

Window of Opportunity

A day of rest. Good to see J.

Dead Rat

This week has been a wierd fellow. Worked hard and my mental health picked up. A bit over burdenned and, being the type to hide head in the sand of physical labour, I just dug in. Great to get one of the over abundant rats that pilfer chicken feed.

A little bird to end the week

After a days toil I popped out to check on the dusk wildlife and spotted this lesser spotted woodpecker.

Hospital

The welcoming sign of the contractors at the hospital warned us of what of expect. W lies waiting to get fixed up. My evening spent on this journey to bring treats to the ill. I wish I had had th forthought to call my buisness Bray and Slaughter.

Filth

Pure Filth

I like the misappropriation of the word 'tax' where street thugs tax people, rather like watching Robin Hood where the King taxes the people for his own wealth and perpetuation. Sees a more accurate use of the word than the idea of a government taking my money to give out to themselves and daft projects I have no say in. Give ne anarchy, every man for himself. Oh yes, can I keep the NHS?

After last nights mercy mission

I awoke, still xhausted and raced down to the studio to take some photos and work on various pieces. Spent a while trying to shoot rats that steal the chicken feed then got a shot on a rabbit. MDF dust fills my lungs, juggling things is oppressive, trying to get the horrible georgian plinths out of the way so I can bring in Quarr Hill Flats for restoration and give final touches to Pitt furniture. No time for creativity just productivity at present. A sore body and scrambled thoughts leaves just time to cook before bed.

Tex seems a bit ill, keeps scratching at is stomach. He enjoyed our walk though. Saw sparrowhawk, peregrine and a poignant site of a buzzard being mobbed by crows. Looks like I'll be in the workshop all 'weekend' catching up. My kidney infection and depression have gone but have left some catching up to do.

A and E

I hate to post diary eea but I've not had time to do owt but do. Yesterday was spent in none stop movement, machining up components in a paranoid space, hard labour and noise. I finished and drove a buisnessman to a nearby city to keep the locals well, crashed, too alert and unable to switch off like after long motorway drives. Woke to pain, set off and worked again. Hard to talk to my workshop mate at the moment, sometimes peoples lives are too different to find a point of contact, however much you like them. Furniture for Pitt is done, I am working on the Georgian plinths for Bath, a robo job of no love I need to complete to have the money to finish the Pitt work. My main need is to retreive The Flats to restore them to full glory. This piece I truly believe to be a significant work and, for myself, I need it looking perfect. Bogged down with work. I got a few minutes rest after work before taking W to the hospital, he could lose his legs yet his so called friends havn't got him there. We drove there, pulled up in the ambulance bay, got a wheelchair and took him in. After moving the car I stayed to keep him talking, distraction is the greatest form of pain relief. Drove back and finally got a sit down to type this brief post.
Promise to have something more exciting to say next time. 48 hours of none stop movement hasn't allowed me a moment to think.

Ai Weiwei

Perhaps the first words I ever said. Beijing olympics will always be remembered. The Great Bears' mass of tangled string will always stand, even if it gets knocked down. Chinas' leading artist, perhaps the worlds, shall reveal on tuesday his work for Tate Moderns turbine hall. His father was a painter and a great poet yet his family were put in a labour camp where he was beaten, cleaned toilets for five years. Though Weiwei has a green card he chose to return and work in China. The exhibition Fuck Off had an installation of an ancient Han vase painted with a coka cola logo , another he dropped , the photo of the debris titled So Sorry. Weiwei has never visited the birds nest, perhaps Chinas' most iconic building since the Great Wall and doubts he ever will. He sees the polarities we face as the 'interesting' versus the 'dreadful', not right versus left, east versus west. The Chinese authorities are aware of his heresy and he has taken more than a few beatings. Perhaps the most exciting event of the coming week.

Time to sort the wheat from the chaf

Art week in London town is looking lack lustre, well not shit but nothing like the bravado and magesty of the previous two years. We all look forward to the Museum of Everything, the taxidermy of Walter Potter and all who cling to his legend in hope that the centrifuge of light will shine on them. Zaha Hadid is the architect we all said she was 15 years ago. Let us see which shows turn out good. Vanitas may offer a few surprises but seems less coherant than last years offering from AVA. Turner Prize show looks like a good local show , no national treasures though, but last years winner still shines way above this years humble offerings. Is it a prerequiste of the times to show modesty, reportage of recent history. There is nowt like like the copper sulphate crystaline bedsit or majestic gold leaf of last years entrants. Skreeworld will be showing better stuff than this as cast offs ts er, jut ou watch.

Skreeworld

Frome Gallows Tree Web

They are on thier way

Early autumn fungi staring to sprout readying the soggy of knee for the catapult in o the next stage of evolution. Ou birth right, the Liberty Cap is on it's way and if conditions stay as predicted, it shall be a geat season, a season that takes us to new places, new dimensions. This Nations saving Grace.

Shroom time

These fungoid items reminded me its time for Englands natural halucinogen. Nothing has shaped British culture like the Liberty Cap. Can't be more than a few weeks off. No one can understand this countrys culture without at least sampling magic mushrooms once. Dont try these though, unless you want tummy ache.

Sure as eggs are eggs

So I'm back in Asda, the store detectives still watch me for my anti Michael Jackson protest. Anyway, I stand looking at thegg morality test. They all are same just packaged differently. It is up to you whether you think you can slink through the check outs without being spotted purchasing openly factory farm eggs or if you proudly display your organic free range, take the 'just' free range, an admission of relative poverty yet an awareness of 'issues'. The next bit is the journey to the carpark. Pedestrians and drivers of modest cars can bow thier heads, clutching thier factory box, they are poor, hungry, societys problem. The organic free ranger has to run the gauntlet, swerving as if toward the escort whilst the jag awaits behind. Where do you fit in? the fucking chickens behind the workshop broke in the other day, shitting everywhere, I loaded the air rifle before escorting them out. Thier death would have been on Gods head had he not intervened! See how he feels with them gate crashing his big pearly bastards,

Back to Today

After 3 weeks of illness and digressions in to childhood, '70s pop culture, Skreeworld is back. All bloodtests clear, still got the ultrasound scan to go but I'm returning to reality, well the holes in my head that light, sound, smell etc. in are all opporating functionally, disentangled from nostalgia. Work build up towers over me, the furniture for Pitt is nearly done, the pieces for Bath loaded. Today I saw a peregrine, a sparrowhawk and several buzzards. The Ivy flowers provide last pollen pockets where red admirals, bees from the hives behind the workshop and stray flies and hoverflies amass. Autumn seems to come so quickly these days. I see Tracy is moaning about arts cuts after her threats to leave for France last year for th 50% tax threat. You can't have it both ways.Art will continue whatever just as sex and love will, maybe not the orgies of recent times but perhaps a time of more considered work may emerge. I can understand, even as an artist, albeit one who has never benefitted from state funding, that our premiership of culture ma pass for a while yet wouldnt you do it anyway? had you the need? maybe not. lets see what emerges.

Pig Lady

Pig Lady is a beast

The Fall - Hot Cake (Live at Frome Cheese & Grain May 2010)

Well, they are the best group

Newsnight Russel Brand

Before it hits YOU TUBE and gets watered down, watch Jeremy Paxman talking to Russel Brand on tonights Newsnight bbc2, a great moment of contemporary culture

The Water Tower

It isn't all that complicated. Where I grew up the major structure, the most magnificent thing in my are was the waer tower. It was not easy to climb, only someone madly committed would try. It became my eyrie. The place I wet to think. When I was12 m mother died and I went up there to be alone. No one could get you there. You could see all across the city. The journey involved getting over a pipe 15 feet off the ground, a spiked fence across its girth. Then from its base a spiral starway throug wind, height, fear, then in to the barrel, sanctuary. The top. My nest.

My next work is a model of the Tower and a book about my spiritual connection to this piece of architecture. My church.

I hope I get old before I die

Who? talking 'bout my generation