Colours of the wind

“You can own the earth and still all you’ll own is earth until, you can paint with all the colours of the wind” a line from the Disney classic Pocahontas… Which I’m not ashamed to say was one of my favourite movies growing up, it still inspires me today. That song in particular

A beast in the matrix


It takes courage not to conform, to know the luxury of a civilised life… and remain wild. To know to comforts of people pleasing, and the ease of lying, yet remain honest and true… To know the advantages of logical reasoning, and keep thinking with your heart. To know the bitter taste of defeat, and the rotten stench of failure… And keep swallowing pride. To know grief and still create joy… To know that life may yet be meaningless, but let everything still mean so much…

Deep in her eyes

They say we know more about outer space than the bottom of the ocean… I used to mermaid as a symbol of mystery magic and feminine energy in this piece. There are entire unexplored worlds within this one, you don’t have to go scooba diving to find one… Just look someone in the eye.

The eye

Through out history and across various cultures, there exists a notion that we as a species are being watched by somekind of higher order… That is an intrinsic part of most belief systems…I don’t think we’ll ever have answers to the questions; who is watching us? And why? But if we are being watched the least we can do is give our watchers a good show

Ayyy wonda youre an Alien

Introducing Mr.Wondz, one of the dopest up and coming producers on the UK urban music scence, had the pleasure of creating this mural style peice. Based on his indentity and his energy , mr wonds is a colorful creative, but i find a lot of his work to be more than what just hits the surface. I wanted to create a painting that demanded a second look for the producers whos beats demand a second listen!


heres a track he produced for grime artist cadet in 2015 called ‘slut’


You don’t speak, so they will ask you why you’re so quiet… “maybe he thinks he’s too nice, or he’s just stuck up”…but when you do speak, then they’ll ask you to shut up ” he talks too much, who even cares about all that neeky stuff”
You’re never enough, then you’re suddenly way too much… go left, then you must not have done it right. If you go right, you must have left something behind…
And what’s left is a torn individual losing their mind… Trying to find a right way… But how can people who have never been to where you’re heading, think they can tell you how to get there… And how can you let people that have never stood where you stand, tell you how to move… there is no ‘right way’… when you have nothing to lose and something to prove… all that there’s left to do is you… You get to decide what’s true. And when you do…defend that shit you with all the stubborness in your heart, with all your courage, and all your might, for as long as it feels right… Eventually you’ll see… the neyseyers left confused as you used to be, bemused by what truths actually fuel your muse, blinded by their own views… unable to move,
Limited, by the same shit they once put on you…


Now Deeply rooted in my grey matter, emotions stem from a flower that never leaves. I lay there, mired in thought, wondering how different my plot would be, if her seeds were never sown… If she had never grown on me…

Her petals shine like gold medals, on my podium of pandemonium, cropping up ever more awesome with each blossom…implanted in my dreams, almost magically…

Tragically, She radically soils my clarity…
I work tirelessly to harvest reality, supersede her from train of thought, weed her from my memories…an endless lobotomy, aimed at this enigmatic botany… My efforts are fruitless…

But the truth is, she is not to blame for this matter, It was I who plowed my grey matter, till it was conducive, exclusively for… my flower


I didn’t notice much at first glance, she didn’t walk in with the presence of a diva, or have a super model stance…but she was beautiful…when I looked close enough to gauge to make up of her make up, I began to feel ashamed of—my own blindness.
Hey eyes were lined with kindness. Her cheeks ever rosy with love and laughter. Her lipstick— the simplistic benevolence of her character.

Beautiful! No make over, no glow up… All it took, was a deeper look, and her beauty would ALWAYS show up… I guess the eye of the beholder just had to grow up…



Under the influence

The waves danced like devine feline across the shoreline, to the tune of a moon so full ,it could have worn out a ware wolf.¬† she was refelcting the suns light when the days got darker, she went through her phases but she was always there, on time, in rhythim. contantly influencing under the influence. A guiding light in the blinding night, some payed her no mind, she was out of thier scope.. but to the creatures that didnt sleep at night….she was a beacon of hope