Towards Better Democracy

Little Miss May is one of a series of political works.

The idea of this series came because I am highly political and have formulated in recent weeks a series of one liners. The challenge with such works is to create an work which has a greater universality than simply that of the moment to which the work may refer. In other words, to lifft what is topical to a work that has endurance. The goal is not necessarily to create a piece such as the picture of Lord Kitchner pointing a finger at the viewer and saying, “Your Country Needs You.!”

Besides, such works are graphic and serve some immediate purpose. My aim is to create a work which is lifted to a level more in line with Fine Art. This is achieved by treating the creation in a manner that does so through the use of care and attention to detail. The works proposed are not created in a hurry but carefully composed to create something that is complete and satisfying.

The work here is based on a long traction of political lampoon peculiar to the English. In this I draw upon the work of my predecessors. Prime examples are Gilray and Rowlandson. The results they achieved are crude and obvious in the manner of their execution. But are acclaimed, nonetheless. Modern cartoonists draw their inspiration from such works. Gerald Scarfe is the prime example in our time of these artists. Steve Bell, who creates for the Guardian newspaper,is another.

I seek to create a different tradition, though that may be overly ambitions. My work has its predecessors in line with what I have in mind. Many of the images from the last sixties, particularly 1968, have a wholly enduring quality. Those works will be with us for a very long time. They are what we refer to as classics.

And every generation creates them.

 Malcolm D B Munro
Monday 13 November, 2018

Filed under: art, Arts, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

Malcolm D B Munro
Thursday 30 August, 2018

Filed under: art, Arts, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

The creative force once unleashed is a Sabre-Toothed vicious snarling beast unless our Art it feed. Greed.

A clockwork mouse stands in front trembling with the beat of a drum. Regularity: the clock’s ticks close to doom. The time stamp is on our every move and paint. From a predator’s height, eyed ready to strike.

The Laocoon heaved force overpowers as swift as a sentry’s throat-cut slit. Creeps silent as the night; watched, studied, by an Indifferent Host. This force can drive the flower dead if the blood does not flow: A surgeon’s bitter disappointment we. The gimbal-like balance at the edge of the cliff. The Constrictor’s squeeze, a burst balloon.

Fragile, in search, and pursuit, of beauty – !wow! – the enemies are many and surround tight. All in nature has its prey. To count odds is lies in the book of trivia. Which will never be writ nor make Art. A mote-drop crushing unseen. A speck-dusted eye in a blink does not mend but breaks.

The beauty of the forest the fire destroys. Happiness sudden Hell’s mouth agapes to swallow whole a momentary loss of sense of. The inattention fatal as at the front of the in the trench.

Think not that this is not true; not all but few have perfect balance. The wheel of life tips in our in our favour as in the throw of a dice.

Weak, strong, mental health or no, we all may succumb unless we attend and daily feed and feast this beast which does not slouch but stands hair-raised erect. Worse by far than the Fall in the Garden should the Artist not obey.

Still, we are smiling are we.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 17 August, 2018

Filed under: art, Arts, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories