Art found underneath black card in a secondhand frame.
Look at the wonderful boats, the sense of longing, the vast island in the background which speaks of yearning and destruction.
Time to put it back in its frame and herald its mastery.
I am now on the look out for more 'underneath art'... watch this space.

Framed Rothko print (unless it was a well-disguised original) this morning, in quite a decent frame, NW5. Almost quite unbelievable that the person should have thought this please-all piece far too much for their home. Or perhaps they thought that the colours suited the outside on a shitty March morning much better. Which actually makes it - Outside Art. Needless to say, within moment (ie when I went back for it) it had gone - to become Inside Art once more, I presume.
Two days ago I found this:

...on a wall in NW3. It still had canvas board, turps and old tubes of paint and charcoal in it, from 1809. Or something. I don't think they put the word 'Amateur' on art sets anymore. Puts the paying public off.

The first hangover painting, rather than sketch, is here - like a beacon of portent on a Saturday night, speaking -like a ghoulish monster of dreary headpinchyness - of the ills of the Night After. That is, Sunday - and the Sunday hangover (which will actually go if you keep drinking all day until, preferably, Tuesday). But anyway, it is Saturday at the moment here in London town and here it is, this picture. If you would like to own this totally original piece of art, wot like no one has ever done before, it will cost you £80 plus very moderate p&p. [Acrylic on canvas, 30cms x 40cms.] You can contact me here for all enquiries. I'm off down the pub.

So, Michael Landy and your Damien Hirsts in your so-called art bin. This is real art, in a real bin, in London NW3 - discovered moments ago. It's a piece of Matisse-inspired art, maybe taking in a bit of Chris Ofilli on the way - and surely a comment on the role of women, and apples. Or are they pomegranates? The piece is unsigned and still in the bin on top of a carton of strawberry Yazoo milk, in case you want to get it, near Parliament Hill Fields tennis courts.

Sometimes I draw my hangover. This was a particularly nasty one in Wales, last year:
This was a bad one in Starbucks where I was quite confused:
This one is actually a headache:
This one is the hangover I would have had, if I'd been bothered to drink the night before:

Seeing pictures of thin children with back-combed hair and tomato-coloured lipstick for the new Prada S/S 10 collection, inspired me to draw them. They look like kids on holiday - gawky, inexperienced, prone to falling over very suddenly, sulky if they don't get an ice cream in the next ten minutes. Contrary-wise, I like it. A lot. They is rockin' a good look. (Even though in all reality, older women who sit in Highgate cafes talking about their loft extensions buy Prada. I think.) So I'd better draw those types too, then. Soon.