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Woodworking, printmaking, cooking, parenting, and tinkering. Occasional googley eyes, giant cast irons, and beer. NI-CA-NH. #wizardstower2020
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My friend Robbie Boyd gave me a gift. A real one. The kind that costs nothing except the two things the world keeps trying to bankrupt out of us: time and talent.

He carved a woodcut print of my father—whose shadow still beats in my chest like a second heartbeat.

And I can picture him doing it: head down, wood shavings everywhere, that wicked Robbie smile creeping in. Every few minutes he’d pause, look at it, and grin… because he knew. He knew how much I’d love it.

But more than that—
he was carving me an emotional bomb.
Meticulously. Patiently. Happily.
A handmade device designed to detonate in the center of my soul.

And I KNOW he was laughing to himself saying,

“Oh, I’m gonna emotionally destroy him with this one.”

Not out of cruelty. Out of precision. Out of that holy mischief only real friends possess—the kind who know exactly where your soul is soft because they helped build the scar tissue around it.

Robbie and I are those dangerous kinds of friends. We disagree about almost everything on the surface, but once you dig past the topsoil, we’re the same bones. 

He once said, “The price of luxury has plummeted while the cost of survival has skyrocketed,” 

and that line has lived in my head ever since.

We’re part of a group called The Unoffendables—a band of fools and philosophers held together by blood, banter, and bad decisions. We argue. We laugh. We bleed on each other. We sharpen each other with jokes that would get us excommunicated anywhere else.
We are the food fight of the fruits of the Spirit.

So when he handed me this print—in public, at coffee—he caught me clean. Knife to the soul. A tear formed. My voice cracked. I held it together on the outside while collapsing on the inside. I sucked that tear back in, and he laughed… because he knew exactly where the blade belonged.

This piece is going in my Museum of Life.
First hall. Front and center.
A permanent exhibit titled:
“Got ya.”

Because love—real love—is letting someone in so close they can slip the knife into your soul, 
and they laugh while they do it… 
and you laugh with them as they do.

Then we made him sing in front of 80 people…..

Wounds become scars and scars become medals
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A huge thank you to Neil, Becky, Kathryn, Jane, Kenneth, Robbie, Darby, and of course Sam & Renoir. Your continued support gives oxygen to ‘Sunday Sightings’ which is about as welcome as a good smell (see what I did there!). The ‘day of rest’ will never be the same again until everybody comes their senses and realise that all I’m doing is fulfilling a lifelong itch to carve stick men, women and animals out of timber and press their inked up likenesses against sheets of paper and somehow having the brass neck to call it art. 
But not yet eh!🙂👍
#sundaysightings #art #woodcut #printmaking #print #printisnotdead #contemporaryart #interiordesign #sheffieldart #reliefprint #blockprint #experimentalprintmaking #get_imprinted
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