She grimaced mid sit. Chewing sour patch kids methodically, playing with her necklace. We talked about bad roommates and the reason for a bike gang tattoo.

Of which there were many.

And while I agree with all of her reasoning, one idea resonated more perhaps, than the rest. Maybe because it is easily overlooked. Yet it is arguably one of my own primary motivating factors in using a bicycle.

The idea that to bike, is to interact with your city. To obtain a different vantage point. A way to be a part of something, instead of merely observing it.

So, here’s the final version for a lovely lady - and the only person I have ever ridden a tandem bicycle with…something surprisingly difficult when two very confident bikers are involved.



Over the past year, I've been priveledged with requests to design some tattoos for a few close friends. I must admit it is a bit of a bizarre process. A combination of personal aesthetic, with concept, with adaptabilty. Oddly enough, I think my pattern drafting past, strangely compliments tattoo design - the ability to fit a two dimensional shape to a three dimensional form.

Contrary to public opinion I often feel that tattoo art is one of the least permanent art forms. A work with a set lifespan. There is a fluidity to a tattoo. An image that will bleed and fade. Edges that will blur and slowly alter with age. It is like art in motion. A nostalgic installation piece of sorts. An image that will embody a moment, an experience, a lifestyle that will be remembered in different ways at different times.

This sketch was part of the ideation process for my lovely friend Niamh's foot. It didn't make the final cut. But I like it anyway.



Been stuck inside lately with a nasty chest cold. Can't say i'm actually all that sad about it. Bundle up kids.



okay okay.

so new year. new years resolutions. I tend to be exceptionally bad at keeping said resolutions, so I'd like to keep it simple. I resolve to begin an art blog. and update it. frequently.

To start things off, here's one of my favourite pieces from 2008. It is part of a portrait series; a redesigned deck of cards I exhibited last summer and the artist statement I never included.

I am horribly unathletic.

My mom taught me how to shuffle when I was seven. The arch bridged between my thumb and forefinger, slotting mechanically into place. Suits and suicide kings. Summers of gin rummy and euchre sliding across picnic tables. This series is a collection of the girls that fill out my existence, in my only form of competition.