Every time I set foot in my studio, intentions blazing, I crumble with pathetic and flaccid paralysis. Do it, paint. No. Fuck. Why not? I can’t get my brain right in that space anymore, and I thought my whole life was going to be devoted to my art. I don’t know how to reconnect or reconcile making art in a world made of war and cruelty, how would painting a fucking picture ever help. How do you create in this environment?
DAN @ Issue no. 274I was lucky enough to be at your recent London show and you played Cosmic Dancer by T Rex. It reminded me how Morrissey also covered and released this. In turn it reminded me of my current struggle reconciling his recent unsavoury far right support to how I used to put him on a pedestal. Generally, is it possible to separate the latter-day artist from his earlier art? More specifically, what are your views on Morrissey, both early days and his newer more ugly persona?
MARK @ Issue no. 48