My cover artwork for the latest edition of the ever inspiring Popshot magazine. Theme this issue is journeys and it was a pleasure to illustrate.
Popshot is a truly fascinating magazine of contemporary Poetry, Short Stories, flash fiction and Illustration? it’s like they made it just to suit me!
I recently had the pleasure of illustrating the cover of the next Popshot magazine The Journeys issue, it being a magazine of illustration poetry and writing it is about as far up my street as you might get. I can’t publish the cover just yet but in the meantime here is an earlier illustration I did for Popshot.
Bridge spanning grimy rail tracks
Icy cold slab stairway to the street
He sits, slumping, cold can fumbling
Half there sidewalk phantom mumbling
He talks with a no one
Phantom conversing with phantom
Ghost of another life laughing in his dirty ears
Recalled, replayed, across the years
Some unheard joke travelling through time
Behind grey stained beard he smiles
Passing the days piss soaked hours
In a garden of remembered flowers
in a garden. Shaded from light bleeding
yellow on a spotless sky blue ceiling
Laughing hard now, in city smoke
at some silly sunny joke.
His arm around her little shoulders
they giggle. Together. Pure joy.
In the old garden made solid once more
with the blue sky ceiling and the green grass floor.
His arm around her shoulders, giggling
In the garden again, in that moment now.
Far away from the cold stone stairs
and the stone cold stares.
by Darren Hopes
This started out as oil on board, it was just a monochromatic underpainting which I was going to paint in oil but instead I decided to scan the oil underpainting and work on it with digital paint and some scanned ink brushstrokes. not sure if it’s finished, just an experiment really it’s sometimes fun to have no plan as to where a picture is going.
Arc 2.1 is out today 'Exit Strategies'
It includes my illustration for a short story titled Vapours by the author Jeff Noon.
Bulb soaked table, glowing under lamplight.
As some aged snapshot, burned out polaroid.
The larger Room vignettes, dark edges to the picture.
Head bowed, resting. Thinking.
Supported forehead on the mouthpiece of the trumpet
like he was trying to play it directly with his brain.
A worn brass leech sucking on his thoughts.
Head raises, circle indent forehead creased.
Fingers touching glass, lightly, thoughtful,
clasps, raises and sips the final sips.
He brings the instrument to his lips, and it all flows out of him,
dark and fluid, he drowns.
In that moment he is more music than man.
By Darren Hopes