Just in case you are interested, My name is Jason Cox. If that's not sent you to sleep already, read on...
My
mother loved being pregnant and was reluctant to let me out.
Consequently I was three years old when she finally gave birth. That
was 1965 in Eastbourne, England, I was the youngest of five children,
all of whom would pick on me incessantly. The only time they didn't
torment me was when my parents were around. Then it was their turn.
Jason! Where's my dinner, clean up that mess. Why don't you get a job.
'But mummy,' I would say 'I'm only seven years old and no one will give me gainful employment. I'm finding it difficult to cook your dinner because daddy broke both my arms last night, remember?'
When I was two my family moved to Australia. Fortunately I tracked them down and joined them in a little country town in the hills, called Upper Beaconsfield. It was a beautiful place to grow up and on the special occasions when I was let out of the cupboard I would marvel at the spectacular views and fresh country atmosphere. I would love poking about old barns and playing with antiquated farming equipment. It gave me an appreciation of local history.
When I was 18 I escaped from the cupboard by disguising myself as a piece of mould which got me thrown onto the compost heap. From there I made my way to art college where they were so impressed with my walking mould installation that they signed me up immediately. Alas fine art was not for me so I signed up to do a graphic design course. Alas graphic design was not for me and I signed up to do a drawing course. Alas drawing was not for me and after six months I was kicked out for being lazy. All this indecision took three years and cost me quite a bit of money. I supported myself by working in a muffin factory, doing a bit of sign writing, which I had taught myself... badly and the occasional freelance illustration job. Oh and that Government grant helped quite a bit too. Unfortunately when I was kicked out of college the government hand outs stopped also.
I had to put my failing art studies on hold and get a job. I joined my friends Donald and Gavin, landscaping and house renovating. They were great days. To make me feel loved and wanted Donald and Gavin would sometimes hit me with sticks and push me into the mud just like mummy and daddy used to do. Donald had a great rustic aesthetic and we would use old and rusty found objects to enhance a garden design. Unfortunately the clients usually didn't share our aesthetic and quite often the police were called and we were forced to place our rustic aesthetic elsewhere.
I was getting older and my paint brushes were beckoning to me. I hung up my wheelbarrow and spade and returned to college. This time I did a Finished Art course, which included a little bit of illustration. It was then that I painted my first dilapidated old truck for a perspective exercise. It was rubbish but I enjoyed the experience and my lecturers were so impressed that for days afterwards they stopped slapping my bare legs with metal rulers. In 1991 I finally received my diploma. Unfortunately Australia was in the depths of a recession and I had no chance of full time employment. I went freelance and have remained so ever since.
After a few years of designing and illustrating for various companies in Melbourne, I decided to return to my roots and in 1995 moved to South London, England. It was bloody awful. My savings ran out in about two and a half hours, I couldn't get work and my friends and family were not around to beat me. To take my mind off my desperate situation I made my own adult comic, SQUIB, I would paint old cars and often I would eat dry rot and carpet beetles to stave off hunger. Eventually I got myself an agent who procured me work doing technical illustrations and art working for Marks and Spencer.
After that I settled down in London and began to enjoy it. I got work illustrating for several book publishing companies, Tescos, advertising and design agencies and sometimes I would even get paid for my work. Throughout all of this, whenever I had a spare afternoon I would take myself down to my Hackney studio and paint beaten up old bangers and the occasional semi-clad woman, my two prevailing interests. Recently I had the idea of putting together a book of these paintings and from there evolved the idea of the grandilapidation site. It was going well until someone told me I needed a biography.
Now if you've read this far, and I would be surprised if anyone has, might I just say that I was never beaten or abandoned and I never ate carpet beetles and dry rot only tastes nice when it is wet and microwaved. The rest is true.
Thank you for your time
Jason
Jason! Where's my dinner, clean up that mess. Why don't you get a job.
'But mummy,' I would say 'I'm only seven years old and no one will give me gainful employment. I'm finding it difficult to cook your dinner because daddy broke both my arms last night, remember?'
When I was two my family moved to Australia. Fortunately I tracked them down and joined them in a little country town in the hills, called Upper Beaconsfield. It was a beautiful place to grow up and on the special occasions when I was let out of the cupboard I would marvel at the spectacular views and fresh country atmosphere. I would love poking about old barns and playing with antiquated farming equipment. It gave me an appreciation of local history.
When I was 18 I escaped from the cupboard by disguising myself as a piece of mould which got me thrown onto the compost heap. From there I made my way to art college where they were so impressed with my walking mould installation that they signed me up immediately. Alas fine art was not for me so I signed up to do a graphic design course. Alas graphic design was not for me and I signed up to do a drawing course. Alas drawing was not for me and after six months I was kicked out for being lazy. All this indecision took three years and cost me quite a bit of money. I supported myself by working in a muffin factory, doing a bit of sign writing, which I had taught myself... badly and the occasional freelance illustration job. Oh and that Government grant helped quite a bit too. Unfortunately when I was kicked out of college the government hand outs stopped also.
I had to put my failing art studies on hold and get a job. I joined my friends Donald and Gavin, landscaping and house renovating. They were great days. To make me feel loved and wanted Donald and Gavin would sometimes hit me with sticks and push me into the mud just like mummy and daddy used to do. Donald had a great rustic aesthetic and we would use old and rusty found objects to enhance a garden design. Unfortunately the clients usually didn't share our aesthetic and quite often the police were called and we were forced to place our rustic aesthetic elsewhere.
I was getting older and my paint brushes were beckoning to me. I hung up my wheelbarrow and spade and returned to college. This time I did a Finished Art course, which included a little bit of illustration. It was then that I painted my first dilapidated old truck for a perspective exercise. It was rubbish but I enjoyed the experience and my lecturers were so impressed that for days afterwards they stopped slapping my bare legs with metal rulers. In 1991 I finally received my diploma. Unfortunately Australia was in the depths of a recession and I had no chance of full time employment. I went freelance and have remained so ever since.
After a few years of designing and illustrating for various companies in Melbourne, I decided to return to my roots and in 1995 moved to South London, England. It was bloody awful. My savings ran out in about two and a half hours, I couldn't get work and my friends and family were not around to beat me. To take my mind off my desperate situation I made my own adult comic, SQUIB, I would paint old cars and often I would eat dry rot and carpet beetles to stave off hunger. Eventually I got myself an agent who procured me work doing technical illustrations and art working for Marks and Spencer.
After that I settled down in London and began to enjoy it. I got work illustrating for several book publishing companies, Tescos, advertising and design agencies and sometimes I would even get paid for my work. Throughout all of this, whenever I had a spare afternoon I would take myself down to my Hackney studio and paint beaten up old bangers and the occasional semi-clad woman, my two prevailing interests. Recently I had the idea of putting together a book of these paintings and from there evolved the idea of the grandilapidation site. It was going well until someone told me I needed a biography.
Now if you've read this far, and I would be surprised if anyone has, might I just say that I was never beaten or abandoned and I never ate carpet beetles and dry rot only tastes nice when it is wet and microwaved. The rest is true.
Thank you for your time