What you can remember of a recent, or memorable, dream recorded as art.
Oil on canvas. In the dark corner of a bedroom, an alien with an elephant’s head, holding a ray gun, the end of which looks like a large light, stands still on a square plinth in front of two cupboards at right angles to one another. It is on guard, ready to shoot anything that moves. In the foreground, a child is awake in bed, keeping absolutely still and rigid, a look of fear on their face. On the floor is a book.
A person being pushed and pulled and forced into a skin suit by a group of men in regular suits.
Oil on canvas. A father, his son and his daughter riding a bicycle together across a pedestrian crossing on Woodgrange Road in Forest Gate, London (they are travelling from the north side of Forest Lane, opposite the station, or from west to east across Woodgrange Road).
The father sits in the bicycle seat, his son stands on one peddle, one hand on the handlebars, the other on his father’s arm, while his sister stands behind them on the rear wheel hub, her hand on her father’s shoulder. All three look forward into the distance together, all set on the same goal.
