“L.A. sunset glows against the old muscle car. The L.A. Girls rule this part of town with their disintegrating beauty, always balanced delicately on the edge. Neon stiletto teases the beer can on the ground which in this hazy glow sparkles like diamonds. They are owned by no-one and their freedom is carried firmly in their beatnik sneers and dark red lips. They learnt a long time ago to trust no-one and to love only this wild urban landscape.”
AVAILABLE ON KNOWN ORIGIN – HERE
“A West Hollywood flickering sunset light lit up the motel room as she sat nervously waiting. She paced up and down, peeking through faded nets at the window but there was no sign.
She opened the door into fading twilight and walked outside, pitching against the gritting harling of the motel building. She lit up a cigarette, hands shaking uncontrollably. She watched the bright red neon sign flash on and off as she smoked. It was always like this. He always sent her into a Hollywood head spin and this time was no different. She sniggered to herself…if he could see her right now, she would have a grey cloud of smoke and pixelated thoughts all smudged into one. Right above her head. She took another long drag and pressed herself harder into the motel building.”
This is one of a series of Digital Paintings from a new series that I am working on called “Hollywood Pixelations” about dystopic, pixelated lives in Hollywood.
He woke up with sunshine on his mind and music streaming in through net curtains. As his eyes blinked, he suddenly remembered that he was in Malibu in the middle of the afternoon and that meant only one thing. He slid open the door and stepped out into a fluorescent green lawn, light bouncing off light. He shut his eyes and started to dance and dance and dance. Malibu daylight dancing was always the best and he had forgotten how good it felt. Break dancing in the back yard, he was lost in a world of flora and fauna; a blur of hedonistic dancing joy. He was in sunny Malibu and he could forget about everything for one more day…
‘She was something of a legend over on West Hollywood. It was well known that her skills lay in predicting the future through chipped china teacups. If she liked you…
You entered her small 1930’s bungalow, past golden gilded Indian statues that stared with expressions of wonder and helpless awe. She would glide through to greet you with the haughty air of a forgotten Hollywood diva. She was breathtaking in her beauty, dark crimson lips set off by the blackest of curls. It was rumoured that she took the souls of men that she loved and encased them in gold gilt statutes, forever to admire her, forever to love her. Every man who entered her lair forgot about the rumour as soon as they stared into her dark eyes of seduction.
Beware the West Hollywood It Girl. She may tell you your fortune. Or take your soul for eternity. Her choice. Never yours.”