Richard Dreyfuss

I was cooking something the other day, and I suddenly came over all Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I found myself pushing the oil around the pan, waiting for an image to appear. I’ve reacted in a similar way to Marmite, moving it across a piece of toast as though it was paint, smoothing it into the corners with a knife, scraping it and starting again until I see an image worth keeping, much like Francis (vege) Bacon did.

I’ve always seen faces in things. I used to take photos of the door handles of hotel rooms on tour, the angles of the locks and handles pulling different faces, the door handle’s expression and mood often reflecting my own. But since becoming Britain’s greatest painter, everything looks like a magic eye picture to me.

If you stare for long enough at this tree trunk, you’ll eventually see a face, and not necessarily the same face I can see. Maybe you’ll see more than one face.

This dude looks happy about something.

Some of the faces are more obvious.

In my song ‘Baby on Board’, from the album Automatic (still available to buy HERE), the couple in the song move out of the flats where the woman in the relationship has never felt at home because of racism. On their last night in the flats, they look at their new home on Google Maps.

On our last night in the flats

On Google Maps

I screen-grabbed a picture

Of the street where we’ll soon live

In a house that looks just like Hitler

Talking of shit, is it just me, or can you see a man’s face in this huge pile of it in Dulwich Park?

Come and watch me play live.

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