Ye Olde Linoleum Shoppe

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

BOOKS ABOUT SEX, HITLER AND TELEVISION

My love of fiction is truly rampant, it is no exaggeration to say it is as unbridled as a Smithfield nag that has gorged itself on a nosebag full of bennies (sound of fox horn from stage left.) Books go everywhere with me, on occasion, I have taken Jane Eyre under the duvet (with a flashlight,) I once had Madam Bovary behind a hay barn, and I have even gone so far as to take a bath with the Brothers Karamazov (Rub a dub dub.)
Of course my love of archaeological literature is much the same, my academic library fills at least five wheely bins - or conservatively speaking - half a skip. I'm a great lover of the archaeology magazines too. Those archhaeozines are all about the sexy end of archaeology. Sex sells, (I know it does, I'm worn to a nub selling the stuff since the recession took over,) so I was delighted to see Cosmo ladies magazine has taken the brave step of publishing an archaeological mag . . .
But let's not get carried away with trashy magazines shall we? It's easy to overlook those classics of archaeology. What about Gordon Childe's 'Prehistory of Scotland,' a triumph, an unbeatable example of what happens when you put Karl Marx in a kilt and send him on holidays to Jurassic Park. I would be lost without that tome, a indispensable part of my quarters, things would feel unbalanced without it. See fig.3a below.
And let us not forget Herr Hitler, who was of course the first site director I ever worked under (or at least if it wasn't him, it was someone quite like him.) When Der Fuhrer was not marching four million troops into Russia (just in the nick of time for Winter) he was penning what was to prove probably the most seminal work relating to the health and safety of archaeologists worldwide . . .
Of course there comes a point in the day when every archaeologist has had enough of books and wants nothing more than to order a pizza in a soggy cardboard box, deflate onto the sofa (see fig.3a above,) then watch the cheesy grease spill off their haute cuisine and make thought-provoking patterns on their crotch. I find watching this sort of abstract food art far more instructive than the myriad of filth one sees on the television nowadays. However should the archaeologist feel the need to turn on the  idiot box . . . there's a book about that too!



See you in another two weeks moy luvvers!

A note about my new shoppe: I've been making linocut prints for years and never selling them. Quite different to anything I've put up on this site. So now I'm out in the marketplace shaking my aesthetic booty. Do have a look, only a few pieces up there at the moment, if you don't have the spons, at least share it on facebook or twitter or whatevertheshagginghellyoufancy.com.
If you haven't already seen it click HERE.
Muchos Apreciados
Mr. C. McHale, Knight of the Loyal Order of Terenure.

7 comments:

  1. Dorothy, for that be her name since the operation, would like to extend an inhumation to you to. She muttered something about kramp but i dont think she understands German.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. For your own safety can I suggest you ascertain the following about Frau/Herr Dorothy:
      (a) Are there any other languages she doesn't understand?
      (b) Is she usually tap dancing - accompanied by a tin woodsman, a lion and a scarecrow?
      Your life may well depend on it!

      Delete
  2. Those lino prints are fab (and bloody cheap) how bout some archaology themed ones. As a cash strapped digger I would save my hard earned beer tokens for one

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  3. Glad you like 'em. They are slow to do. Coming up with sketch, cutting lino, gluing lino to plywood base, tranferring sketch to lino, then cut, cut, cut, ink, ink, ink, print, print, print. I work in a small space which makes it all the more awkward.
    So yes, archaeology ones will come, but don't hold your breath. Part of the reason why I've slowed down the blog for the summer is so I can apply myself to printmaking again.
    I used to do etching, amazing results but disgusting process, the acids make you feel like the insides of your lungs have been sanded. On the plus side - they are the only art form which allows one to say 'Would you like to see my etchings?' Comedy gold, (well maybe not.)

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  4. Ah etching , happy memories of some long evenings spent in abasement with a demented four foot four " artist" who had his own foot at the local medical college. He was dissecting it and drawing it then making etchings from the drawing. No ventilation and the biggest bottle of nitric acid imaginable. The best evening class I ever did until it got cancelled when the powers that be twigged there were only two pupils . Best of luck with the Lino prints,

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  5. Dorathy says she hasnt felt the need to speak foreign since 1872 as the tea tastes the same! Sometimes i dont understand her. Lino prints are very cheap indeed - even for an archaeologist - but maybe i'll bag mine while the going is good. You cant live forever Mr McHale. ~PS not a veiled threat but an assurity that your stock will rise.

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  6. I'm sure by the time it comes for me to pop my clogs the technology involved in pro-biotic yoghurts will have progressed so far that eternity may indeed be an option. So if I do not achieve immortality through my art I fully intend to do so through the medium of yoghurt.

    ReplyDelete

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I am a descended from a long line of conga dancers. I occasionally wear shoes. I gave up going to the toilet twenty years ago - it's a filthy habit. I have a pet bunny called Mucky - he's a filthy rabbit.

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