Thanks to all that came, Tiger for the beer and Oval for the Vodka and Mr jazz dance ... if there's a better reason for staying fully clothed in an art gallery I haven't seen one.
Biography
The offensive element of street art can be under-rated; after all, who has not raised a chuckle at a well-placed and esoteric spurting phallus. Blu’s work is no colourful collage of youthful self-expression, but it’s obviously many stages removed from a crude penis. However it pulls no punches.
To label Blu as simply offensive is small-minded of course; his outdoor pieces might echo slogans of hate or mobile numbers scrawled on public lavatory walls, but they are quiet rather than brutal, and observational as opposed to demanding. Like a child proudly presenting his mother with the results of his latest amateur wildlife dissection, Blu simply wants to know if we have ever thought about this before, and what we might have to add to his conclusions. When we turn away in disgust and chide him, he is mystified and disappointed.
Blu’s work discusses what really lies behind our facades using a jab-cross-hook combination of brutal, eloquent and democratic metaphors. Cars are laid to rest with full honours, academics perform witty suicides utilizing the tools of their trade, and interpretations of the human internal workings echo perverse practitioners such as infamous fetish illustrator Dolcett. Adding another layer of complexity though, its style is gentle and unassuming. Ultimately its humour and imagination are unparalleled. Whilst some notorious modern artists may seem inappropriate for display and enjoyment, Blu’s horror remains somehow appealing.
News
Thanks to all that came, Tiger for the beer and Oval for the Vodka and Mr jazz dance ... if there's a better reason for staying fully clothed in an art gallery I haven't seen one.
They allow the urban scene to morph into world somewhere between Narnia and Maurice Sendak’s “Where Wild Things Are”. If I was an arse I’d go on about a distopian nether world where Orpheus first met his love…and well I am, so I will.
Imagine a caramel of disfigured elvin characters squatting the inner depths of a Lewis Carrol novel. Or if your brain’s aching, it’s also been described as “Beatrix Potter on crack”.
See for your bad selves.
Thank you to Tiger for the beer.

