A month spent in a secret shack on a secret island with a bunch of artists. Long days of feral pigs, evil seabirds, stripey boys, bum mountains and sting rays. Every day I went for a swim, did a drawing and drank too much. The drawings are a diary. No sketches, no fixing things up, no trying again and no throwing things out. Just a bottle of ink, a crusty old brush and a piece of paper and sometimes it works out.
Tom O'Hern: Bum steer