re by stingo.

Yo! Just got a rubber stamp with my new logo on. Re by Stingo is my sketchbook brand. Re stands for everything that starts with Re; reuse, redesign, rethink, recycle, retro etc. Here's this week's bunch of sketchbooks as well.

festival website.

Yo! The "Scenes from a British summer country pop music festival" - website is up and awesome! This is a collaboration between me, Graham Mossop and Stuart Roy Clarke. Have a look here!

no more ranting.

Two days ago was Graduation day. The last chapter of uni life came to an end. A lot of things can be said about the uniersity that I attended, and I've already made myself famous for being rediculously upset about it. Yes, the things I and my friends had to deal with during the last three years was probably enough to make Michael Moore come and make a documentary about it. And yes, the honourable thing in our Honour's Degree is that we stayed and took the battle. But then it felt good to recieve a stupid certificate, and it felt good to shake some dude's hand and probably catch swine flu, and it felt good to wear way too big gowns and hats and freeze our butts off outside the church. Because my best friends are friends from uni and I wouldn't be Stingosaurus if I didn't attend this university. I'm happy that I've stayed for three years and I'm happy that I've graduated. But I'm even more happy about all the things I learned beside the uni stuff. Oh gosh, I need to stop here before I get too cheesy. I guess, what I want to say is that I'm happy I don't feel like fighting with uni anymore. I leave that to the current students...

dances with wolves.

And I just have to say that I love this movie. Yeah, it's old. I was 4 when it came out. I saw it as a child and now I saw it again. And yeah, it's a little cheesy and American - but that's why I love it. Or I don't know... it's just sort of contageously positive somehow. What I know is that I want to be an indian now, living in a tipi and hunting buffalos. After seeing Taking Woodstock last weekend I wanted to be a hippie as well, I guess I could be both simultaneously. It's all peace and love, man!

more sketchbook updates.

More more more sketchbooks. And there will be more - "OMG! This Stingo girl is insane!"

glasgow detour.

It took me a week to remember what the name of Dunelm Mill was, and realised that it was Dunelm Mill. Then I tried to go there for some sweet canvas shopping for sketchbooks, but ended up somewhere in Yoker. On my way there I thought to myself that I have a very good sense of orientation, perhaps better than a lot of the people I know (big smile). But when I got off the bus I sort of gave in. And really, I'm not blaming my super-skill for not getting to my objective. I just got distracted by photographing Glasgow dullness and then the rain was too much of a bully, so I took the next bus home. Wohoo! Exhiting life indeed.

sketchbook update.

These are four books I made last week. They are completely handmade and consist of Korean newspaper/ recycled fabrics from Sweden, probably from the 1980-90's. More books are coming soon...

money money money.

This week I've been making some gift vouchers for Homes of Football. If only I could make gift vouchers that could work everywhere...

thank you.

It's a little embarrassing to admit, but I'm not very good with technical web stuff, hence I haven't been able to answer the question "so, how many people follow your blog?" until now. To me this little thing called blogging has always been a way to explain my creative process, letting people elsewhere take part of my adventures and sometimes just allowing myself to be fucking narcissistic. I thought maybe my dad would like to read it and hopefully a couple of more people. But I had no idea that so many people would actually follow what I have to say. I have, as you can tell, got hold of statistics finally and made the conclusion that it's not just my dad, my family, friends or relatives who reads this, but many many more. So gee, what can I say. I guess a "thank you" is appropriate. I will continue to be Stingosaurus for you and hopefully you'll keep coming back and appreciate what I do. Feel free to leave comments, so that I in return can know who you are.

Peace!
/Stingosaurus


The image is an old drawing from an artist book project from uni.

i heart you.

Just sat looking through some old pictures and found this. You know who you are and I miss you so much.

i've got paws II.

i've got paws.

Suddenly the temperature has dropped from "brrr" to "holy shit, that's cold" and my gloves has turned into paws that I never take off. I feel like such a hobo.

chair-collecting day.

I hate the smell of brewery. For fuck sake, Glasgow! Stop farting me in the face! Today I took a lot of pictures from a dubble decker, high above puddles of stomach fluids and other nasty things that come from breweries. By looking at things from another angle I found some chairs.

a day on planet stingo.

I wake up feeling exhausted. The kid nextdoor is always crying. I hear its mother speak with a wordless Scotish accent from the other side of the wall, clearly upset. I also overhear a phone conversation and the word "disaster". After the shower I find a fat cat on my bed. How can she get into my room when barely I can? You have to litterally kick the door to get it open and it's physically impossible to open it while carrying two things at once for instance. This cat is either superman or an alien. Anyhow, I get the cat out quickly and I imagine that my throat is soar now. But then it always is in Glasgow. I'm drinking coffee and eating a sandwich while watching some Swedish television. A Norweigan princess educates me about angels, and apparently you can survive under water for an hour if your brain's almost frozen. Norweigans are funny, why did we ever give them up? We should all be one happy country (sharing Norways happy oil-money).
I catch bus 205 into town. I think about people who are sad and realise that I am not. Being alone and being able to enjoy it is a freakin skill not many people know how to master. Sometimes I am queen of fucking everything. A grey squerell outside the window is not however. It's been run over and lay flat and stiff as a stick on the side of the road with a tortured facial expression, if squerells can have such a thing.
In town I take some photographs and run up and down not knowing what I need exactly. Was looking for a book by Alice Monro, but found another one which I bought for 11.50. I don't know why I decided to get a book today. I never buy books if I don't have to. This one I just had to have though and I don't want to tell you why. Later on I make my way through the moving forrest of people, while playing "You Make My Dreams" by Hall & Oates. I imagine I'm in a music video and actually dance through the crowd, because that's what my feet wants to do when this song is played. Town is packed with people today and everyone seem to be farting. It smells like warm sneaky farts here and there when I have to stand still waiting for the green man or watching the drummers perform on the street. Farts always makes me think of Paul Sahre showing me how to do the word in sign language. I have now showed it to almost everyone I know. I'm not very good at party tricks.
In town I also see between 5 and 10 blind people scattered all over the place and wonder if Glasgow perhaps is a city for the blind. It's not pretty, so at least they're not missing anything. I buy some more things and feel as if I have to survive on air for a while. Almost no money left in wallet. Somehow that thought exhites me. I don't see poverty or the recession as something necessarily bad. In fact it makes me more creative and I can't help but to be freakin' positive. Bad things always brings good stories, I suddenly realise. For instance, aren't there shitloads of great books written by concentration camp survivors? Or how about Van Gogh; if he had lived a normal, happy life his art wouldn't have been as famous as it is today. A little injection of disaster is good if you can find a way to deal with it, I reckon.
It's getting dark when I steal something in a ----- store unintensionally. It doesn't make me feel bad, because it's not my fault. When you get something for free by accident you should accept it as a gift. Perhaps this is what all theifs think.
My feet are now soaking wet, because this is Glasgow and a sunny day never stays sunny here. I wait for the bus for exactly 4 minutes under my unbrella. I can see from a distance that it's packed and I have to stand up in the front. I don't mind really. As long as I can go places, I'm not complaining. I realise that's what my life is about in a way; to always be on the move to somewhere and to always be somewhere else. I wonder how other people's lives are like, if they ever feel the same. The bus is so full of complete strangers, we are a big mass of brains and hearts and guts and farts. If we crashed we'd be one big puddle of blood. The thought of them thinking something similar makes me want to hug them. I love every undiscovered friend in every city I've ever been to. Especially in New York. I think about NYC and miss it almost like a person sometimes. Ralph Charell told me that New York has a soul, it's not just bricks and stones and tourist attractions. New York is something more, and maybe you can only discover what it is if you let yourself believe you can be a better person there. I suppose this is true everywhere.
Glasgow is damped and it's making my brain freeze. But then again, in those conditions you can survive. I imagine that I'm surfing on West Indian waves as the bus slide into my stop. Regina sings "I'm the hero of the story, don't need to be saved". I open the door to the flat and feel terribly guilty for not answering a lot of emails. In fact, I'm a little more stressed out than feeling guilty. I hope you all read this and know that it's nothing personal. I then heat up some spaghetti bolognese which is already cold when it reaches my mouth. I think about how dead Nate in Six Feet Under is and make a sketchbook while watching Kobra. I'm probably a little spaced out from all the glue when I sit down to write this and now it's suddenly Sunday.

The photo was taken in Stockholm with my Diana by the way.

adobe garamond pro semi bold italic.

Wohoo! This is a massive update of what I've been doing for the last week. Have been spending x amount of hours on a ladder, painting Garamond, clouds, balloons and all kinds of things for Stuart Roy Clarke's exhibition Somewhere Across A Promised Land at Rheged Discovery Centre in Penrith. Exhibition is ongoing until February 2010.

happy halloween.

The top two characters I'd want to dress up as on a halloween party.