Contains two signed poetry collections: the 'classic' JUDI & THE BUS STOP WILL NOT BE SANITISED plus a pop sock and a badge. Limited edition stock. £16.00 (includes p&p)
THE BUS STOP WILL NOT BE SANITISED
Written during Covid lockdowns this features a contemplation on Rishi Sunak's 'Eat out to Help Out' club, her landlady's daughter Gill's conspiracy views, plus other new/old 'classics' - signed £8.50 (includes p&p)
Self-Portrait
£350.00
£200.00
Ink on watercolour paper
Unframed - 122cm x 152cm
£350
This large self-portrait was made at a culminating point when putting together the artwork for the HOLD FAST exhibition, and charts the maturing of my ideas around mothering - both other people, and myself.
Original autobiographical artwork Ink and pen on paper
Framed - size 40cm x 50cm
"The other day when I broke the news to her that her dog, our dog, Buddy had died, she took a maximum of eight minutes to be sad, have a cry, then a laugh about his death. 'Brain damage,' I thought. And it is true, because of the all strokes, the taking away. She is 80 years old now, I google: is there such a thing as a dementia cackle?...It suggests, instead of words, out come yells, blasts, plumes of howls and squeals."
This can be bought as a pair with Acceptable Reasons for Late Arrival - 2 for £400
Ink and pen on paper
Framed - size 40cm x 50cm An extract from the upcoming memoir, Lifting Off (published in 2024)
This can be bought as a pair with Acceptable Reasons for Late arrival - 1, for £400
Original
Pen and ink on paper
This artwork is an extract from my forthcoming memoir, Lifting Off, (to be published in 2024)
Framed - size 40cm x 50cm.
Original artwork
Pen and ink on paper. Framed - size 40cm x 50cm
"The anxious dog arrived on a non-descript day and sat under mum’s slippered foot, his eyes down and head low. His name was Buddy, his eyes as black and wide as beetroot. The whites of his eyeballs showed, but I did not yet know what this meant..."
Original
Pen and ink on paper
Framed - size 40cm x 50cm
"In my old bedroom, I lay in bed, the lampshade on the ceiling above me points down, like a nipple. It is laughable, as I was bottle fed; mum unwell after I was born. Downstairs I hear Buddy snoring in his bed. I want to be in charge of my own future, have a singular voice in my head. A stranger’s face waits in the mirror, and sometimes I see me, other times it isn’t right."