These drawings can be seen for real at Oblomov Bar, Lenaustrasse 7, Berlin. Please get in touch for prices.
Spaghetti Friseur
I sit and wait. I fold my number ticket. I bite my nails.
A goblin with red lipstick washes my hair
and sits me in front of a huge mirror to stare at myself while it goes off on
important business. I contemplate my reflection. I thought I was looking good
this morning but in this hall of mirrors I look like a tiny ugly troll.
The haircut begins and I try to sit as
still as a marble statue in case the pointy scissors accidentally cut a piece
of my ear, stick in my eye or cut a vital chunk of my precious hair.
I contemplate my bedraggled reflection.
I can’t wait to look amazing.
I hope I look amazing.
The sudden fear that this has been a
terrible mistake spreads over my body, my hair was fine before, I don’t need
this…..
My mind wanders and I think about the time
me and my brother laughed until we cried watching a constipated dog try and
have a poo in the park area opposite our flat.
My head feels warm and heavy, I swing back
into the present and realise the hairdresser has put a pile of spaghetti on my
head. It is huge. A giant wobbling swirling mountain. Strands hang down, stick
to my neck and curl round my ears.
‘Do you like it?’ the hairdresser asks.
I don’t want to hurt the hairdresser’s
feelings so I say “yes its lovely, thank
you, just what I wanted, really wonderful”
I watch my reflection in the shop windows,
pretending I am looking at the displays but actually staring with anxiety and
fascination at my new coiffure. Spaghetti hair. I start to enjoy the weight of
it, the fancy curls make me feel important and special. I eat a couple of
pieces and walk off down the street with my head held high.
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| Spaghetti Friseur 100 x 70cm |
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| Pink spaghetti dog hair 100x70cm |
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| Fancy dog 100x70cm |
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| Spaghetti restaurant 50x70cm |
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| House of cards 50x60cm |
