A couple of weeks go we ran a competition to win some Superoboturbo prints. All you had to do was email us with what you thought was going on in his latest print. There are some VERY strange people out there (you know who you are!). We have selected five winners and would like to share their stories.
He used to be able to make her smile. (by Mark Stevenson)
Time was, when she was feeling low, he'd put a record on - some knowingly ironic un-funk, squelchy synths and clipping drum machines - and make an exhibition of himself. Awkward dancing was something that came naturally to him: he had two left feet and neither of them seemed to know what the other was doing. He'd realised a long time ago that he couldn't dance, and she knew it too. In fact, she loved him for it, in a stupid lind of way. He'd look a dick, but she'd laugh and throw a cushion at him, and the clouds would part to reveal a crystal blue sky.
Lately, though, the clouds had grown heavy and dark, and all the bad dancing in the world couldn't lift them. He watched her for hours trying to figure out what was going on behind her eyes. Something had occupied her mind, it seemed, and he didn't know how to dispell this unwelcome visitor. And so he danced, with feet of lead and a strange feeling in his chest. He didn't know what else to do.
Lovebirds (by Steven Janssens)
The character on the left is a woman (a ”bird”), hence the little bird in the head. She is madly in love (check out the heart on her right knee) with the guy on the right. She has clearly expressed her feelings to the guy; her mask came off as they say (here in Belgium), she hides her feelings no longer. You can see the artist has taken this “mask came off” thing pretty seriously; she holds her mask in her arms.
The guy has clearly got mixed emotions; he still doesn’t know whether or not to let his feelings go freely or not. He is in emotional turmoil, crying and generally into a “not knowing what to do kinda state of mind”. He wants to run away ! He ponders between love (left side of head; heart coming out) and hate (right side, the little thunderstorm icon). What’s even worse, he has got butterflies in his stomach but doesn’t interpret this correctly. “I just ate a large curry and that’s causing this odd-stomachy-feeling... This ain’t love”.
The bird remains calm and quiet... She knows he will understand soon. The “understanding” meaning they will both speak the same language. Yes indeed, you will have noticed the bloke has got a little bird on his hand... Soon these two birds will talk to each other, meaning they will let go of all fears. You can even see the bird on the bloke’s hand is looking into the direction of the girlie bird. Aaah there is an opening. Lovebirds... Ain’t it beautiful !
The ballad of chirpy and quirky (by Fe Murray)
Sailing on a cloud of light early one spring morning quirky heard a sound of pure delight. It was bright and clear echoing around his ears hypnotizing him with each sweet melodic strain. He circled round the heavens casting beams of rainbow light down to earth..for he must illuminate this enchanting sound and immerse himself in its charm.
Then the shiniest prism of light danced over his retinas and carried with it the dynamic electro funk of chirpy’s song. Quirky’s ears buzzed with lightning and he wept with joy at the sound of that pure harmony. There Chirpy stood.. with head in her hands humility and the most dazzling jewel colors emitting from her diamond lips forming perfect prism notes that reflected straight into Quirky’s soul.
Together their palettes formed all the colors of the universe and every tune of love into the ever-after.
Untitled (by Forrest Clingerman)
She wanted to find a way to his heart after all the pain she caused. “A bird in the head is worth two in the bush,” she thought. Timid, shy, clutching her bag like a schoolgirl. But her unfaithfulness bled through, as the illicit phone number within seemed to transform her bag into the visage of her lover.
In desperation, she opened her mind to him - for the first time - as he was walking away for the last time.
He, on the other hand, was conflicted. The chirping of the bird reminded him of times past. Tears flowed as he thought of everything he had given up: his status, his livelihood, his starting position with Ajax. But although his words were filled with jagged corners, his heart spoke a different language. It was a language that dripped onto the floor in pools of desire and love, death and life. Even in his loins he felt the danger. His passion was unabated by his reason.
As he ran away, leaving feelings on the floor for the janitor to clean up, he held on to the reminder of the bird in her head.
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