The Word is Yours Festival, Amman, Jordan, October 2015
The wall was beautiful. Fragile. Old and wise. There was a dead bird lying at its foot which was fitting for what I'd come prepared to paint: an amputee bird. Carrying the weight of his and our histories with him, his demons on the tips of his wings. But a hero. Trudging on in the moonlight with his propellor party hat on. He's still going.
The Syrian family in the house at the top of the stairs made the story that much more special. The children who watched hour after hour and their grandmother whose eyes told a million tales. The broken down cherry picker, the wailing traffic, the crooked street and late nights. The team working on this project were inspiring. As were the people from around the world who'd come to represent at this festival. And Herakut. One of my top tops I've followed and admired for years. Picking their brains was immense. Would love to get back to this city and paint again. It was a warm, rusty, disheveled perfect host.