Qucik Sculpt

Tallyho! What brings a fine fella like yerself to a raggety inn like this here blog? Uhh.. Sorry about that. I just came back from London. A day at the British Museums Greek sculpture section put some of the fire back in me to get back on the horse. The real reason we went, though, was all but cultural. The British currency went down the drain compared to the norwegian krone, so I went down there to buy all of their shit and get the fuck out before the pound sterling had time to recoup. Like a friend and colleague of mine once said : "hah, your currency is weak and feeble".
More specifically, I went to get myself a new axe (cool kids speak for a guitar). But it seems like London still spends most of its time in the wayback machine, longing back to the days when the Beatles were cool. Which in turn means that trying to find a newer Ibanez guitar in that town is as hopeless as trying to find a a female Russian shot putter who actually looks like a broad.

I guess I will have to throw my handful of strong, manly currency at the interwebs then.

Tonight's sculpt was about an hour or so, further refining a head I started the last time I sat down with pen in hand. Probably 2 hours total, or somewhere around there anyways.

Peace out,
Lars