david collins
our keith
Keith with one of his much loved dogs. Unfinished, oil, acrylic, and collage on bedsheet. Dimensions forgotten.

Keith was my great uncle. He died before I was born of a drug overdose.

During this period, most of my paintings were of people who have since died.

This painting is currently rolled up in a storage unit in Oxford. I am living check-to-check trying to save up enough to get to the unit and bring my shit home.

I’ll have to hire someone, I don’t have a car. I don’t know how to drive. I can’t afford to learn. Even if I could, I apparently can’t legally get a licence before I legally change my gender marker, even though my passport didn’t need one, nor did anything else. When do the rest of you lot ever think about fucking gender markers?

My oxford tutors would tell me things like, class inequality is a theme in my work. When I was in the right mood, I’d play along. Class inequality is a theme in everything in my life, and “work” to me now is my normal job. People don’t want to hear about things like that though.
David Collins is an artist from West Yorkshire.​​​​​​​