Robert Anderson, Glasgow Member Since March 2009 Artist Statement Hometown: Easterhouse, Glasgow
About Me: My Wonderful Life
I am 49 years of age ,single and extremely handsome, "My nose is getting bigger". I am a Builder/ Carpenter to trade . And a part time writer by night . I am working on a couple of novels at the moment called "The Art Of Working Without Working", But I am still working on that. The other is called, “This Chair Is Only A Chair, So Why Is There A Hole In My Socks?” I know this is rather long winded but so is my hallway I was born in the Gorbals, Old Rutherglen Road, Glasgow. And so any outstanding bills should be sent to that address. My mother was Scottish and my father was Polish ,thus ,I am Pottish. I love all forms of art and literature. I have taken of lately to classical music as I feel it relaxes me and inspires some of my writing. I love to design and build .with my own hands. I also love to paint and sculpt, “whenever I find the time“.
All in all, it is not too bad a life. I love collecting James Bond and Marvel memorabilia. I have a huge collection. The back bedroom is like a toy shop. But it is my toy shop that I dreamt of having as a child, “ My dream come true”.
Born in ,“The Gorbals Glasgow” in 1959 and moving to, “Barmulloch, Glasgow“ at the age of four. I was the middle sibling of five children. My teenage years were influence mainly around the gang culture, inescapable but predominant in the significance of urban survival at the time. Although never a member of the gangs of Glasgow I was often caught up in their conflicts and learned at an early age how to take care of myself.
The Gangs Of Glasgow
Adrenalin flows through snake skin shoes As the razor sparks from baton blows The beast within the heart to choose This way of life he walks and knows Our games to win and talk tomorrow And walk within the elite with honour To bear our scars without the sorrow For our blood will win where badges cower This blood that spills from every wound Will generate a new beginning They will fear our names when homeward bound With their faces slashed and stinging We will send a message where justice lye's The poor are within our shielded layer They fear not under our watchful eyes And chant our names when we are there The glint of razor and tempered edge Will leave you open like gutted fish Then watch your faces drain with age As your insides spill over your piss
Now scars have faded to indentations I’m none the wiser for my failings The world still turns and wolfs do prowl But all has changed on gang lands soil
The gun replaces the weapon of choice Where drugs have silenced honoured voice And friendships beware the Golden Fleece Now greed infests where loyalty ceased
Once we bled in this no mean city Warriors of choice we asked no pity We fought and loved to live with passion And picked which day to be our last one
Now all is silent with most you gone And memories fade but linger on In legends tails that sons admire That night as one we lit the fire
Hating my violent surroundings I would escape into another word with the help of an old 72in bakelite record on a highly polished and much cherished radiogram. The record title was, “The Life And Times Of Lloyd George” later to be recorded by Ennio Morricone as, “Chi Mai” This to me was a thing of beauty where I could close my eyes and fly with one hundred wild geese over the African planes or catapult myself to the horrors of the trenches on the Somme. I was hooked on classical music and the arts by the age of 14 and winning competitions for my school at various venues that cropped up in and around the schools fraternity.
I was asked to write down what writer has been an inspiration to me and I can only answer honestly and say none. My thoughts on, art, poetry and the inspiration behind them come from the very edges of human life and the darkness of death seen from a child through to adulthood on it‘s raw an