Bourdon Brindille
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  • Home
  • Sincere as Objects
  • Breakage & Repair
  • Sometimes...
  • Weightless Again
  • About
  • Commissions
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Volcano Theatre, Swansea 2019
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Useless Logic

In a world where we are responsible for, yet not accountable for, where we are causing, yet not producing, where we are connected, yet not linked, where we are the instigators, yet not the antagonists, we are let down by our greatest gifts.
Reason, self-awareness and logic are snakes that will eat themselves whole, leaving the Sunday best roast to rot. This is not a logical world in which we live, wake up and smell the F-sharp major. Why use useless logic, it is past its sell-by, it is time to use our broken, irrational little hearts.


Height 30cm
Base 52 x27cm

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The Wave Picture

We are connected you, the sea and me.
We are in control of these wet mountains even as we are thrown asunder without authority between them.
As the moon draws water it draws us too, yet we can pull back, and water will follow.
These foamy hillocks are meadows whose grass we cut before we scamper and frolic and pad across their patchwork prairies.
I say ‘Dive’ ...and in we dove.

71.5 x 23.5cm

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Mask

Sometimes our faces begin to fit masks that we forgot long ago that we made ourselves to wear.
Through input we shift and squirm and change and wriggle beneath what we believe to be ‘Me’.
We are layers upon layers upon layers of new skins, crisp and ready to be plucked out, brushed down, pulled on and worn at the appropriate time.
Man, Son, Lover, Friend, Stranger, Pupil, we are but an ever changing interaction to outer-ness.
The only real question is what happens when we are alone, quiet and open to one’s self.
Are we but masks then… from ourselves?

31 x 20 cm
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House on the Hill

This is but a place I run to.
A place of candy-flossed, kitten-clad calm.
This is an island, a childish, playful place where the spark of innocence (still within me) pokes his new brow to the sun and bathes, lazy, in what really matters… silliness and divine childlike nakedness.

Height 40cm
Base 17 x24cm

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Chess is as ripe and as sweet and as ready to pluck for a metaphor as any good-god-damn-thing could ever be.
It is the story of humanity (at least up until this point) in a nutshell. It is about dualism, and difference, it's about hierarchy and progression, it is about movement, fighting, tactics, defeat, success, belief, deceit and death... and everything in between. 
So I ran with it. Let them speak for themselves.

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The higher they are, the further to fall.

Pawn Height 4cm
Board 36cm High x 7.5cm Wide

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Two Sides of the Same Coin

Pawn Height 6cm
Board 11 x 11cm


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Really, Whats the point?

Rook Heights 6.5cm
Board 48 x 7.5cm

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If you must, at least have a little respect.

King Heights 7cm
Board 48 x 7.5cm

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High Hopes

Pawnking Height 5cm
Board 48 x 7.5cm

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War Games

Castle Height 7cm
Board 24 x 7cm

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Mother and Child

Queen Height 9.5cm
Board 13 x 7cm

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The Limitations of Language

In a world pastel paisley-ed pink and pretty, I am left wordless with its beauty and sorrow.
There are no words to express here.
These words are but shorthand, a shortcut and an abstraction for convenience sake, that leaves out more than ever it could tell, every time… we will evolve to more I assure you. One day we will look to one anothers eyes and ‘understand’ and our lips will only be for kisses and secret nibbles.
Let us gently evolve.

76 x 55cm

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Blackbirds

Oh how you blackbirds haunt me.
Are you the darkness lifting from my soul, to fly outward away from me, absenting yourself to leave the light things left?
Or do you clatter and claw toward me, bringing death and memories of death and deaths cold fingers to wake me from my past death?
All I know is that you keep flying and each day I move toward the end and the understanding of you, my cold, beautiful, dark, swift, fragile friend foes.

21 x 14.8cm

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Ouroboros

Here lies the dread of the pointlessness of consumption as a means to exist in a cycle where nothing is gained and nothing is lost. We eat and we are eaten… when our time comes. And forever on, we are torn apart and scattered to the wind, to fly with it, till we become a part of it…again. To be breathed and subsumed and made flesh again. This system is closed dear. There aint no getting off this train.
For creatures such as ourselves that are heavy built on vanity and self-preservation the knowledge of our own cyclic futility can be as destructive as it could be constructive. It can cast us down to darkened depths where light is only glimpsed pinpoint-like through shattered thoughts and half browned leaves of autumn, much as we are all half browned too and ready to drop too.


Height 19cm
Base 31 x21cm

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Beehive

This is but one in a series of places I run to.
A place of candy-flossed, kitten-clad calm, a hideout and a fort made from blankets lit by the wonder of the new-ness of everything.
 A dream-palace where patterned skylines draw down and scoop what is real from me to become a part of ‘more real realms’ beyond… what we think we see. This is an island of calm, a childish, playful place where the spark of innocence (still within me) pokes his new brow to the sun and bathes, lazy, in what really matters… silliness and divine childlike nakedness.

Height 39cm
Base 28 x20cm

It Calls Me.

The moon draws like piped old men, suckling on moisture within,
calling me to patterned pastures, away from myself.
The hairs are standing now upon my body,
my dimensions have grown,
I am a child of the animal night.
Searching with dim blue moonlit light,
for a place and a body I have seen before.
Once.
And it calls me.
And I have no choice.

26 x 52cm
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Please Do Not Be Cross

A police line for us all. We the lost, fragile, innocent, foolish, naughty, motherless children whose mistakes have always been born from love.
We are all but children feeling our way through lessons toward other lessons, so please do not be cross, as I, we, you make just another mistake… forwardly.
Let the lines be drawn with flowers and let us be beaten and admonished with candy canes, because forgive us. We know not what we do.

59 x 18cm

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Lighthouse

Height 18cm  Base 37 x 29cm

I'm building a home in my head (and I'm starting with the wallpaper.)
Height 29cm


These are but places I run to.
A place of candy-flossed, kitten-clad calm.
This is an island, a childish, playful place where the spark of innocence (still within me) pokes his new brow to the sun and bathes, lazy, in what really matters… silliness and divine childlike nakedness.

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Upstream

We fight against the stream, longing for home, powered by body held muscle memories toward our true source, our pre-birth place, in search of this home (not a place),
but a memory from before we can remember. It's simple though, we shall all make it back, all we have to do is wait, she finds us all in the end.

179 x 59cm

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i-Test

Every piece of Art is a Rorschach test of one sort or another.
We look through our own eyes, clouded by our own thoughts, misted with our own memories and fogged by our own prejudices.
You do not see what I see, nor I you… nor should we.
This is what makes art special, this is not maths, there are no incorrect answers here sir/madam.

110 x 29.1cm    


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Zen Diagram

One Hand Clapping.


Height 17cm
Base 48 x 32cm
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I No Longer Remember Where You Start and I Finish

Height 20cm
Board 29 x 20cm

High Tea

Here lies the dread of the pointlessness of consumption as a means to exist in a cycle where nothing is gained and nothing is lost. We eat and we are eaten… when our time comes. And forever on, we are torn apart and scattered to the wind, to fly with it, till we become a part of it…again. To be breathed and subsumed and made flesh again. This system is closed dear. There aint no getting off this train.
For creatures such as ourselves that are heavy built on vanity and self-preservation the knowledge of our own cyclic futility can be as destructive as it could be constructive. It can cast us down to darkened depths where light is only glimpsed pinpoint-like through shattered thoughts and half browned leaves of autumn, much as we are all half browned too and ready to drop too.

Base 30 x 21cm
Height 53cm

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The Body Is The Spirit Is

A commissioned piece telling a more positive story of the cyclic nature of nature, this is another tale of reincarnation and rebirth, an ode to Everythingness and cycles.
A chiseled, odd, Yin Yang, where the golden sap runs through the crisp bark shell and where the brittle bark skin runs through the syrupy resin and where the dry covering runs through the slick inner fluid and where the…ad infinitum.
This is, I am, We are, forever connected and cyclical. There is no duality here, there just is…is.


Diameter 26cm
Height 19cm
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Looks Like Rain Again

19.7 x 25.6cm
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Tongue Tip Tickle

19 x 35.5cm
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Ode 6

One of an ongoing series of ‘Odes’ to Art and Artists that have shaped me. From specific artists that have inspired me, motivated me or galvanized my will toward my own path, to genres and time periods that are constant and enduring in their beauty. These are poems and conversations to but a few of my influences.

60 x 26cm
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Memento Mori

Remember Death.
Once I remembered that I should remember to remember her.
‘She is the only real truth worth dwelling on’, tocked the tick.

24.5 x 18 cm
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Double Take

An ode to sensuality, a hallucination that draws the eye to return, furtively, boyishly back toward the parts that interest us.
There is nothing to shy away from here, we are all but bees fore written to hunt for flowers, we are all but April rabbits quick to dive coupled to warm covered burrows and we are all but zephyrs waiting to wrap around our well-chosen mountain tops.


47.3 x 45cm
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Ode 2

One of an ongoing series of ‘Odes’ to Art and Artists that have shaped me.
From specific artists that have inspired me, motivated me or galvanized my will toward my own path, to genres and time periods that are constant and enduring in their beauty. These are poems and conversations to but a few of my influences.

29.5 x 37cm

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Change?

Oak Carving

29x 14cm
Home Wet Home

Concrete & Cross-stitch

37 x 60cm

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Change Pools like Butterfly Tears

As though moths to the sun.
A song to change, to rebirth and progression, ever forward, toward we know not where, a different variant of us and ours, awaits our soft cat prowl just round that next…next alleyway as we lope and sly toward everchange.

59 x 33cm
Be careful about answer finding…

we were not born to be whole and unquestioned. We were not built to be complete nor found nor right nor perfect.
This is a continuum, where lessons follow lessons. So careful of that top step of that ladder, it is very easy to step off, only to begin again, and again. And the steps down there aint so easy to climb.

Jacob's Ladder

Base 32 x 17cm
Jacob's Ladder 2

Height 40cm
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Seaview

This is a
mood, a strange, warm, ennui that breaks into a heart-smile.
It’s the discovery of a wind tattered paint peeled Swiss-cheesed hull of a broken beached bijou boat, found on secret loved ones walks.
This is not melancholy; this is Lemoncholy, one of but many of our beautiful, strange, indecisive, complex emotions that leave us befuddled with the intricacies of this life.

60 x 84cm

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A Very odd place indeed


30.5 x 20.75cm

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