Okay, it's the mid- to late-1980s. I'm recently divorced, SA is in turmoil, and I have a box of oil pastels with which to play around. This was the end result.
A multi-faced confrontation beside a setting sun. Was there symbolism here?
This group seem to be sitting in church pews, bathed in the glow of a stained glass window.
This recalls, in a way, a drawing I did in about 1977, after I came close to being beaten up by National Party heavies at a PW Botha meeting which I single-handedly heckled in the East London City Hall.
And here, a conjoined couple on a boat to where?
Kandinsky taught us about escaping into fantasy worlds - or was it Frans Marc?
Ouch! This, done entirely from my subconscious, seems to speak about where my mind was in terms of my relationship with women at the time.
Woman.
Parisian artist.
Red is a siren colour.
Not quite male or female, this figure seems lost in a troubled world.
From another time, again it is quirky faces which spring from my subconscious.
Did you know that a horse's hoof is equivalent to our finger or toe nails?
The female form was never far from my subconscious mind.
Will this guy saw down the post and make an escape?
I mentioned earlier that this arrangement crops up occasionally.
I can't help seeing myself in some of these.
Long strips of paper off-cuts gave me something to play with - though this guy looks like he's never played in his life.
Would this guy be North African, perhaps?
You know what they say: big nose, small pipe.
A neck to kill for.
A ski-slope chin.
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