By July 2015, our bedroom is so bedoodled it looks like Banksy has had a stroke in there, except the artist in question is actually our seven-year-old daughter, Sophie.
She prefers to work with non-traditional materials, and she has a penchant for the permanent. Her 2014, ‘Handprints with Baby Oil on The Wall,’ is a fine example. Michelangelo has nothing on her extensive 2012 ceiling masterpiece, ‘The Resilience of Ribena,’ and there is great promise in her early red nail varnish floor work, ‘This Cream Carpet Was a Massive Mistake, You Eejits.’
Like a true artiste, she doesn’t say much; she lets her art speak for itself. ‘What do you think she’s trying to tell us, Martha?’ I asked my wife, one night. ‘I think what she’s saying is that she really likes to fuck shit up, Aidan,’ said Martha, quite astutely. Continue reading