(London)
A motor psycho. Flying down a thousand roads hell bent on creation. The faster we go the slower time goes its all relative. Petrol man and diesel women look through catalogues of despair. Destroying destruction. Bearded monk dreaming in the snow storm of the future.
Walking the endless plank. Reality is a dinosaur. Redemption found after drawing nature square for a while. Mad as sanity. As corrupt as desire. Hollow priest collides on the fault line with the wise old owl. I tip my hat to the hard workers and count my gold. we are born we die.
Sandwich pervert. Five gigantic magpies soar. nothing artificial is intelligent. far flung,far out, let it go out of sight. (Words by Tim Hill)
Tim Hill has to be one of my favorite illustrators, I have always loved the lines that flow from his twisted pen. Check out more of his work or contact him for commissions at:
Tim Hill, Graphic design& illustration, 07951216882
Website
http://www.ai-em.net/bivouac/
Myspace
http://www.myspace.com/bivouac1927
