As a serious artist, a lot of people question my integrity when it comes to certain projects. Just because I see the world in a different light, from a different angle, does not necessarily mean that my work is any less important than others working in the same field. Art is defined by interpretation; what means “life” to someone may mean “death” or possibly “tin foil” to another. It is an open world environment where anything and everything goes. It is the bag for life, full of life, packed with death.
So when it came to my current ongoing situation I decided to try something a little more obtuse. Of course I was never going to please the mass market, the traditionalists, the modernists, those with eyes. But to them I ask them one question: “when was the last time you witnessed a piece of art that really challenged you both emotionally and subconsciously?”
I give you Plopp. When you look at Plopp you could see a myriad of images. You don’t only look at Plopp though, you feel it deep within your bones. It’s a feeling sweet as a yoghurt-covered lollipop. I’ll say no more though as the scene speaks for itself.
