I went to see the Andy Warhol exhibition today at the Ashmolean. I did try to keep an open mind, but I’m afraid to say the whole anti-art ethos of it completely underwhelmed me. I couldn’t detect even a glimmer of life in anything – just tedious celebrity culture and flat mass-production. The emperor has no clothes, and we can see his arse.
I would like to thank my wonderful and surreal wife, Karen, for the wordplay that underpins this comic. I merely added the seahorses and coloured it in.
We went to an excellent talk yesterday at the Albion Beatnik Bookshop, by Jeremy Renals on the sub-genres of jazz. Most of the people in my sketch are jazzers, but a couple crept in from book-covers I could see in the shop.
No comic today, but I wanted to share two doodles from my sketchbook. The second one I made at the hospital, waiting for a gastroscopy*, and perhaps then the theme is obvious. In hindsight I now understand the first one too!
I’m happy to say they found nothing! The doctor allowed me to turn slightly to look at the monitor, so now I have gazed at my navel from both sides.
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(* The spelling checker is complaining, and suggesting gastropod instead. I think that would have been far tastier.)
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Not strictly a comic, but wishing readers merry seasonal bonhomie du jour.
I’ve just finished reading the Taschen Titian book. Did someone say gesundheit?
So, as I mentioned, we went to see the exhibition of Francis Bacon and Henry Moore at the Ashmolean at the weekend.
The panel they said couldn’t be done. Itchy and Knee as you’ve never seen them before. Don’t miss this thrilling episode of The Family Tayberry.
This is what happened to me at the Cotswold Wildlife Park at the weekend while standing on the raised giraffe-viewing platform. The sheer magical magnificence of it was spoilt only by the lively argument I was having with another visitor over whether one was permitted to pet the giraffes. Ironically, I was the one maintaining that one shouldn’t, and so I was under strong moral obligation not to. Though I did want to, very much indeed.
I clearly remember a book from my early school-days called “Nobody Listens to Andrew”, with the leitmotif “There’s a BEAR in my bedroom!” (which all the adults ignore, of course.) I strongly empathised with that Andrew. You can still buy that book, I find.