Dave Green
@artist-in-a-shed
Tragic messy art. Secret poet. Bus and train flaneur. Weighty tome buff. Quite gorm. Artist_in_a_shed on Instagram.
Detritus sketches - piles of tidal gubbins washed up on Berwick beach. Mixed media on paper.
Likely love Such exuberance Golden hours And hours Chatting like starlings As they dig weeds There they are - a sentimental Me might shed a tear - Skin and hair entwined At the centre If this vibrant world Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Gludge He stands tall-ly Like a seventh wonder A delphinium Hair wild as rocket Dishevelled secretly The banjo is away Sandwiches brandished But music lives On his hushed lips And in the breeze Through the willowherb Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
The charity shop quick sketches. Pastel on paper, Marygate Berwick.
Dog gone Keep the wicket fastened Seal the trellis shut Ensure the mortice lock is clicked Batten down the hut He batters cast iron gates Digs beneath the cusp His nemesis is not the Chubb But seemingly the wasp Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Barnacles, bladderwrack and scum (a well known firm of solicitors). Oil and collage on card.
Ungardening Erase the ground cover Flollops of catnip Lavender tsunamis Show the pernicious evil Couch grass tunnelling Landgrabs of perennial peas Dubious wisps of horsetail Ruffle dusty soil With a wheeze & a hi & a ho High from pollen snorts Stripping back to attack M @imcmillan.bsky.social
Wording O don’t taunt me again This sick permutation Five idle fingers Rearrange the birds on the fence A sundry bundle Makes no sense Take a hammer to the screen Or at least scream Banish electricity Eat air, feed See the light of a distant sun It’s what they don’t need M @imcmillan.bsky.social
Quick oil sketch of Teapot Street. Slight inaccuracy bias. Oil on canvas.
Gift The letter came one afternoon The postman harried like a serf I took the keys to prise the box And mine the treasures of the earth Prostated by the sheer surprise Plucking it from junk mail drift I thank the state with all my life For their indifferent random gift M @imcmillan.bsky.social
The three bridges of Berwick upon Tweed. Collage and watercolour on card.
Mulchination Nodules of gristle Are best hacked away The teasel and thistle Now enter the fray Something suspicious In beds sweated out The fronds are delicious And good for a bout Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Wind chimney On the North Sea mistral The spores of distress Chopping up herring gulls The rest you can guess Those pylons are rusting Ships have few ports I’m getting my drill out Of diamonds and quartz Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Bullish Knottish twine Cusp of Dawn Insects dine Nature’s norm Splitted cane Buds like teeth Power wanes Falls beneath Roiling sun Humid crush Delphinium Something lush Dripping wet Inviting ire Now I get Such hot desire Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Nosecutting In spite of white lies Burning souls, I spurn My friends and neighbours. Holes and graves are dug For me so I can spin There dustily. My foot shot off to bucket clangs, I perish all alone Without the social glue Of wizard prangs Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Today’s catch On my watch Crabs dismembered Laughing gulls At culls remembered Coral prints On rocks of eons Never risen In life’s seance Bottled sand Breath of air Bury me Just for a dare A million years Resurrect My boulder bones I do detect Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
Evening swimming in the rain, I’m swimming in the rain, what a wonderful…etc.
The oil sketch for yesterday’s painting. The house the parcel companies cannot find. Oil on paper.
Them I can’t account for it Living in the sticks Don’t talk climate change Race or politics The world is really cool Falsity of fear Follow credos underhand Bring ‘em over here I tend to keep it Schtum Swearing hand on fist That I’m an artist, also an Anarcho-syndicalist M @imcmillan.bsky.social
Our house in the middle of our (Teapot) street. Oil and collage on canvas.
Downbeat boy A low slant sun exposes The machinery of dusk. His wary headspace closes To all. An empty husk Or carapace of skin Is all he seems to be; To lose is thus to win Surreptitiously. A trudge or lope describes his walk An emptiness inside his talk Morn @imcmillan.bsky.social
A bronzed Adonis on Berwick beach favours a frisbee. Collage, watercolour and pastel on paper.