I've just discovered the work of Australian artist Dylan Mortorell and really love it. The initial attraction for me has to be the black and white line drawing. Black Indian Ink, pen and brush being a medium that I'm using all the time at the moment. I'm not sure why it has such a strong appeal for me I think it's something to do with my love for text and reading. 
I still haven't managed to get to see Royal Elephants from Mughal India, paintings and drawings from the collection of Sir Howard Hodgkin. Hopefully next week. I did have a quick look around the room of paintings from Mughal India in the permanent collection a couple of weeks ago, on a flying visit.....but as I was short of time decided to return when I can enjoy the exhibition at my leisure. 
I just love this goat or deer, it looks so much like a contemporary graphic design.
I'm not usually a fan of brass instruments but in Beirut's case I can make an exception. I love their music. La Llorona not only has an interesting story but cool graphics too. This is from March of the Zapotec directed by Owen Cook.
I've just discovered that Doodlezine 4 is ready. It's a lovely handmade zine created by my clever niece Abi Whitehouse and Desdemona McCannon who are both illustrators.
I've been fascinated with the emotive artwork of French artist Christian Boltanski since experiencing his installation Dead Swiss. I think it was at Tate Modern in 2004 or 5 when I first stumbled across this melancholy work in the permanent collection. As is often the case I was both compelled and also a little repelled by this piece. There always seems to be an element of sadness in whatever he does and a slight obsession with death, but it's not overwhelming. 
I'm not sure why but with most of his pieces, especially those involving light which many of them do; I'm always taken back to a moment. It was a beautiful sunny day in Montmatre, Paris. As I stepped out of the brilliant, brilliant sunshine into the darkness of the Basilica of Sacre Coeur a beggar thrust out a little begging cup in front of me. I'll never forget the shock of that second. I was moved in an instant from the bustle of life, light and sound and suddenly thrust into the antithesis, a dark hole and this person accosting me. I was momentarily blinded. He could see me, my dark silhouette against the halo of light as a I came through the door. He was invisible in this dark hallowed silence until he spoke. Gradually the welcoming light of hundreds upon hundreds of candles became visible. It wasn't his fault poor man, he was probably starving and sheltering in the cool church from the baking heat of the sun. He just really scared me and I think that churches can be very creepy buildings. 
