Sean Parker
BA (Hons) Illustration
London College of Communication
(+44) 07985 773109


canvazz bagzz

Today, Kitty and i spent the best part screenprinting and spraypainting the logos on the bags that she so kindly, and expertly, made. The aforementioned bags are going to be merchandise for the upcoming tour of Klaus Says Buy The Record, who is supporting Luke Leighfield across the country over the first half of august. We made an initial 20 with a view to make another 20/ 25 if they sell well. We will see. I'm pretty excited to find out how they do, if a little anxious. The pink 'K' is badboy, though, don't you think?


a couple of the attractive anomalies that i have acquired recently;
a label maker that i found in our loft when we moved house, a handmade journal with a recycled leather cover i bought from a hairy man at piccadilly market, and a kodak brownie from a charity shop in tonbridge (not terribly valuable, but rather pretty all the same).


Benicassim 2008

right. well, i've been back a while, but i have only just been able to find my macbook under the sedimentary layers of vestements strewn about my room. it's a shame i wasn't able to post my thoughts about the experience a lot earlier, because i have forgotten most of them now. the least i can do is piece together a sketchy amalgam of the festival....

we arrive at 11.30pm on tuesday night at benicamp, and pitch up in the car park, thinking that this was an ideal spot because of the lack of other campers. we proceed to get fucked and stagger around the campsite befriending northerners. we wake up at 8am, involuntarily, mind. the ruthless sun attacks the ground with rays of golden torture. we then realise why there is a lack of other campers; the heat has obviously melted both them and their belongings and they have been soaked into the ground, which is not too dissimilar to a quarry.

the subsequent two days consist of sprawling ourselves on the beach and frequenting the insanely cheap supermercados, which are constantly rammed with louts running about cradling beer and baguettes like their own offspring. outside the pedestrianised motorways, gangs of wilting youths, sporting comedy hats and aviators (and not much else) circle their wagons. what then follows can only be described as savoury mayhem. cheese, chorizo, chutney, countless other ch- foods all being sliced, diced and pureed. it's like watching ready steady cook with a bunch of kids with ADHD.

the beach is perfect. like faye dunaway holding a double barrell shotgun to warren beatty's loaf. except the sand is hotter than the sun itself. but apart from that, perfect. planes of caramel pulled taut along the flapping blue. cultured bathers refute bikini tops for the all-over tan, while michael jackson impersonators cower beneath octagonal oasis.

will update when i can be arsed.


Isometric shit.

Yeah, I know it's already been done, like, a thousand times, but isometric paper is the bee's knees. Yum yum yum.


K is for Klaus.

work was long today. my boss kept making awful jokes about my nose piercing. well, it was one joke, but hammered in several times throughout the course of the day. by four, my feet were killing me. i pretty much spent the last hour of work leaning on everything and anything in an attempt to relieve my poor footies. since i got home, i have only moved from my desk to have a cigarette and a cuppa cha. my poor eyes. oh and i also got up to spray this stencil. i spent last night cutting the shitting thing, christing fiddly it was. worth the effort, though. although i will do the entire thing again due to the retarded nature of the right limb. you get the picture though, it would look badboy on a bag. screenprinted in red. mmmm.


Eclectic Collective Clubnight

My friends Manda and Thom recently got their creative arses in gear and arranged a clubnight at Redstar in Camberwell to launch their soon-to-be-Brighton-based team, the Eclectic Collective. Now, you may well be thinking that Camberwell is not THE hottest spot in South London, but i can assure you, the artkids arrived in their herds. It might well have been the hook attached to the F word (no, not that one, i mean free) that was the stigma for appearing in their posh frocks and such, but the night was undoubtedly a success.
Cor Blimey (see link below) headlined the evening on the decks, while the hosts, Manda and Thom, playsuit and wifebeater clad, respectively, followed up with some elechno beats. They were kind enough to ask me to be the official photographer for the evening on behalf of the collective and i happily obliged. With some assistance from my (illegitimate) twin, Eleni, and some random hands, i managed to document pretty much every movement anyone made all night. Click on 'Eclectic Collective Clubnight' to see all 509 of the snaps.
These are a few of my favourite....


If i hear rocket summer one more time, i'll stop the car.

hi. it's before midnight, which is always a morale boost when realising that neglecting your blog is verging on heresy. i would like to say that i have been thinking about the following content all day, but i have had more pressing things to apply myself to, like trying not to cry like a girl when the well-pierced man was clamping my nostril like a 2x4. i wept a mini stream when he inserted, nay, thrusted, the stem of the piercing through my snozz. aside from the feminine squeals escaping from my throat for that half-a-minute of hell, i've had a good day. i saw my girl off into a shifty, unmarked taxi, which was allegedly bound for stansted, and immediately regretted the decision. what the shit am i going to do now with my evenings? bombing to hers at 12.30am to make rocky road now seems like the coolest thing to do when i can't sleep.