There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?
There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?
There is good and there is evil. In between, somewhere, is the duck.
These words, spoken by Accrington artist and visionary Tim Whittaker, come back to haunt us in these ribald, brittle, stretched months of 2020 and 2021, where ghosts of the threshing floor rise to meet us.
These photocopies hark back to another, happier time and maybe presage a third.
We just need to locate the duck.
You have to act. Burn them, commune with their indolent, witless, stolid spirit. Or photocopy them endlessly to erase their presence.
Maybe you can draw on humanity’s creative commons to give you another answer. It’s what the internet is for.
I’m staying in my lane. To be precise, Hollins Lane. But that stops in Baxenden. Where then?