This modern tower of baubles was used as a background for a birthday card for Paddy Forwood.
Paddy's a friend whose knowledge and appreciation of contemporary music is reason enough to visit him and shoot the breeze about stuff I wouldn't know if I didn't see him. Another reason is his great talent as a host and his deftness with the Martinis and Mojitos.
We have a mythical rivalry where we both have an expanding chain of bars each – Johnny's and Paddy's – mine slightly seedy and cheap; his establishments dotting the world in splendid corporate strides. An empire of Paddy logos as an expression of his determined and stylish pocket-filling vision.
This all takes the form of birthday cards.
One of Paddy's establishments looked quite good as a vast end-of-terrace affair in Shanghai (an illustration for The Standard Chartered Bank that I'd modified with flags and pole dance posters.
This reached its zenith (or nadir to Johnny's barflies) with my 'image as surrender' vision of Paddy's final apocalyptic tequila lounge somewhere quiet and a bit featureless (which Cormac McCarthy could have had as somewhere for poor ole Vigo Mortensen to rest up awhile with his kid. But obviously Cormac's not a big socialiser, so the wretched couple of scruffs have to soldier on through a monochrome vision of Romford till the story peters out as drily as it starts).
Anyway, this started as a ragbag assortment of bits and pieces, a bit like Chloé's card, and had as its branding lots of letters hanging down the side on wires; aluminium I think, and spelling out not only the brand, but exhorting the weary Armageddonistas to 'Drink Tequila" and "Loosen Up' in a way that modern marketing and its insipid little focus grouped mantras has all but abandoned.
my birthday is feb 4.
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