Sebastian Horsley At Foyles

Ignore the opening few minutes and the my drunken Camera. This is an unedited experience. Not much of him exists.

 
 

Postcards From The Dead

Sebastian Horsley was a friend. He died 10 years ago tomorrow. I found this postcard a few days ago. I had used it as a bookmark, but not in his book: Dandy In The Underworld. Now it’s perhaps a Coda. He was a witty and mischievous soul, I loved him. I still, at times, wish he was playing a prank on us all. 

Isn’t this one of those moments when we have to entertain the notion of the dead communicating with us – Gustav Temple (Chap Magazine).

 

Let us Art make

I have been doing some Art things of late and whilst looking for some materials I came across this marvelous set of Magic paints. You just spread the coloured muck all over the canvas and it will appear eventually to be a landscape. Hey kids count how many times the name Bob Ross is written on the box?

Grayson & Perry Go Large

I have a framed tea towel by Grayson Perry that seems to be extoling the virtues of Patience & Humility and asking one to contemplate Grayson's lifelong teddy bear mentor Alan Measles on a motorbike

But when all that runs out

 

 

Reflecting Upon The Dandy Lion

Sitting stoned staring blankly at yet another shrine I have put together for dead friends. This one is dedicated to Sebastian Horsley. He wasn't everybody's cup of tea, nor would he have wanted to be. Even at his very worst he was far more refreshing to behold than a bag of dried leaves in hot water. One afternoon he crept up the stairs in Meard Street Soho, knocked on my door and gave me this lion's skull as it did not interest him.

 

He prefered humans