Description As our virtual world and experiences grow and become more accesible so our personal world shrinks to an insular vista where the horizon is as far as we can reach and the landscape is the size of our monitor. Conical tower blocks sprout from the concrete earth like limbless trees. Bristling with dishes and antenea that prick the sky and squirt friends, opinions, art and nature into our cells. A Utalitarian Utopia of cyber satisfaction evertything we want at our fingertips. But perhaps not everything we need. Amongst the conical clones and old man pours drops of life onto an explosion of colour and perfume. The Gardener is a feast of individuality in a world that is scared to be different, a celebration of mans uniqueness and his unbreakable bond with a natural world that belched his ancestors from a muddy pond all those millienia ago. ...get updates about RichardBrain's work, browse merchandise and become a fan at http://www.new.facebook.com/pages/Brains-Bazaar/17725809617
RICHARD BRAIN, OXFORD Member Since May 2008 Artist Statement This is the art of a vain, blue eyed, atheistic, hedonistic, communist, therefore, as you can imagine, my art is my only reademing feature.
So if you want to see a fiery orange sunrise piercing the branches of a mighty oak and dappling the daisy dotted meadow with splashes of gold...wake up early and look outside! Because you wont see it on this page.There will be no paintings of blood- red, dew- moistened acrylic Orchids here, nor adjective-oozing odes to woodland waterfalls... these things are too beautiful to copy.
I may make a clumsy attempt to paint how the Oak tree makes me feel, but not the Oak tree itself, why would I? When it's perfect already.
NO...here you will find Emotional Art.
All the things that compel me to pick up pen or pencil and create........
Frivolous Things.. because the devil in me can find no better reason for anything than that it gives me pleasure.
Funny Things.. That coax a wry smile from my lips or surprise me with a spontaneous, barking belly laugh.
Angry Things.. That make me seethe with fury or cry with despair.
Inspirational Things.. That twist my arm behind my back and frog march me reluctantly towards love.
All the things that make me wonder why this chameleon-like sexual predator didn't change as the world around him did.
So I sit in front of the PC idly drawing rectangles with my cursor and with my mind firmly entrenched in the "Summer of Love" I vaguely recall;
When intellect meant radicalism...
When heroes climbed mountains instead of implanting them...
When Big brother was a tool of oppression not suppression..
When we worshipped integrity not celebrity..
And when people dreamed of a better world not a better house...
Yes... I sit in front of my PC (Police Constable???) and idly draw rectangles with my cursor( A gypsy you didn't buy heather from???) and decide perhaps the world isn't really any worse than it was... but maybe the people in it are.