Frisson Comics


Frisson Comics publish A Misty Morning for their horror edition:

A misty Sunday Morning

Up early, out early, with the dog on his leash at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Raincoat on, sauntering through the thick mist on this post-Halloween, or as the locals call it: Mischief Night, morning. This is my most trusted outdoor jacket, gets me through endless dog walks, early start open-air craft fairs and days when I just feel like hiding away and becoming invisible. Belonging to my partner, but inherited by myself; a trusty navy outer waterproof, an aluminium lining for warmth, finished off with a thick white plastic zip and toggles. Dave was actually given it on one of the ships he had been working on; it’s safe, practical and can be relied on. Passing a young girl, about eighteen or nineteen, just having got out of a taxi, wearing last night’s attire and make-up un-cleansed discussing ‘What actually happened’ with one of her friends on her mobile phone. Remembering back to when my Saturday nights used to consist of getting dressed up, meeting up with the girls, going to the bars, followed by whatever came our way. Sunday mornings spent trying the decipher what had happened, muffled phone calls consisting of ‘I don’t remember that’ and ‘What was his name again’. Well, hopefully, the training day will be good later, oh when did I start to age and get so level headed?

Then into Everton park, visions of not more than ten meters in front, incurred by the mist, hiding the views which reach across the Mersey, over to the Wirral and on a good day the mountain ranges of North Wales. Little dog off his lead to explore; freely and at his own will, sniffing, smelling and the frequent cocking of the leg. I see some discarded firework shells, time of year when things start hotting up and rockets get fired around. Turning the corner I see a black Staff running towards myself, thinking about Charlie I look over to see how far back he is and if I should put him back on his lead. Staffs can be dangerous and vicious towards other dogs, Charlie, although doing his best against larger dogs; ultimately amounting to a fur-lined toy-dog. It’s okay, though, the other pet owner shouts his dog as he walks down another path. The Staff follows his owner’s commands obediently, no desire to start a fight, I wish Charlie as well behaved. I keep my eye on him in case he decides to go after them, run over then start the strife.

A discarded goal mask lies to the side of the footpath, an Edvard Munch ‘The Scream’ style guise, the twenty-first-century plastic version, mouth held fully open and eyes virtually decapitated. Used for an evening of Trickle-Treating, money gathering and sweet sucking, then tossed to one side: mission completed. Although the mist is deep it is not actually raining, the skin on my face is only damp from the moisture in the air, the molecules of water within the low lying clouds hitting onto my exposed skin and awakening my senses on this early Sunday morning. However, it sounds like it’s raining, raining heavily into the crisp autumnal leaves, the shell shaker russell and the fresh aroma of water falling onto the urban green space. When I walk under a set of tree’s I feel the rain coming down on myself, onto my hair and over my shoulders. I walk on, then going under a conifer I realise that the rain only seems to be coming down under the trees. Supernatural, the wrong way around and in conflict to rational, not falling in the exposed area’s, then tipping down in the covered environment. A few strides further forward, over a few short moments which felt much longer, I realise what had happened; it had been raining heavily earlier in the morning during day break. The rain had been collected by the foliage and was now falling from the leaves on the trees. What was ghostly on the first appearance was actually just nature’s delay: a wonder to admire not something to revere; not supernatural, but at on with nature.

As we go over the brow the fog has started to disperse. I hear a Man singing at the top of his voice, the sound was coming from the bottom off the hill by the Netherfield Road side of the park.

So wake me up when it’s all over

Netherfield Road has a history of being frequented by sex workers and kerb crawlers and still to this day it is common the see girls positioned against lamp posts looking for trade. More usual in the afternoon or early evening, not at this time forenoon. I wondered if I should avert walking in that direction, my eyes scanning for a fluffy form to see where my dog had gone. I had been propositioned by a man down there at around seven on a Wednesday morning only a few months ago. While circuiting the park, dressed in my usual dog walking attire of my acclaimed aluminium lined rain coat I was approached by a local man. Dressed neutrally in a pair of jeans, frayed and bedraggled, grey sweat jacket, in his twenties but spotty like a hormonal teenager, topping his look off with a greasy grey-blond grown out crew-cut.

‘Are you looking for business?’

At first not understanding, then realising that he was looking for a prostitute, despite the fact that any sane person could not have thought I worked in that line, he, in fact, did so. I told him;


Him being wasted after a night spent drinking, with more cans of Stella to follow visible through the plastic carrier bag he was clasping. He kept on at myself, his bottom lip held forefront of the higher not fitting together in normal poise, ready to omit gas, trying to suggest I should be entering the depravity of his existence. On that, I struck him, not particularly hard, but it was my intention to hurt him, my right hook not having lost its strength from the few years I had used it last. In this, with him being drunk he stumbled on the steps and nearly fell over forwards, his bottom lip reaching out at the forefront of the motion vibrating like a tuning fork that had just been struck. He started screaming at full pitch, telling me that I was ‘Mad’, in this I responded by kicking him a few times, nothing extreme, just ‘Trainers on ass’, then I retorted:

‘Your right, I am Mad and if I see you hanging around here again I will do more than just kick you’

In this, he made his way off along Netherfield Road muttering more slander towards myself but not at a comprehensible volume.

So wake me up when it’s all over

In debate over as to whether I should gravitate in the direction of the lower part of the hill, I see the man singing start doing press-ups, his upper body located on the lower position of the steps to increase the resistance of the movement. He then moves on to squat thrust accompanied by more singing along to Avicii: ‘Wake me up’. Wait a minute, he was not drunk or high on substances, he was there to work out not because he is intoxicated. He’s probably wearing earphones and been singing out loud by mistake; carried away with the athletic motion, not realising his vocals were being shared by the locals.

Feeling my way through the darkness

The dog and I ramble down towards the bottom of the hill, undeterred, there was nothing to be apprehensive about. This section of the Park often used for training, often racing up the centre with running club myself. We were always doing training sets up this distinct rise in the terrain, sent two at a time and simply doing your best to keep your head up and run until you reach the brow. Actually used for Highland Game training, often seeing the hillside laid out with specialist rope and weight assortments coinciding with carefully located cones. Although the sport is unusual in Liverpool, the steep hill is ideal for throwing the hammer games so many travels from further afield for training. As we pass the man I can see that he has earphones in and is in exercise gear. Just forgot and hasn’t realised he was singing aloud by mistake, best not to say anything, I don’t want to embarrass him. Then he catches my eye and realises that he had his accompanying vocals had been at full blast, I look away but I can’t help laughing to myself, smiling I walk on, the park being a pleasure on this misty Sunday morning.

Alison Little

See the full zine:




Disability and Ableism Workshop


Radio Merseyside Performance Space – Hanover Street, Liverpool

Tuesday 25th October


Free to Participate

Alison Little is a North-West based artist who has worked on numerous commissions across the UK and Western Europe including Go Superlambana, Go Penguin and others such as the Horse Parade in Cheltenham. Holding workshops is key to her practice working as a tutor for Liverpool independent Art School (LIAS) in addition to holding workshops for Organisations such as The First Step Centre (Kirby), Alcohol Advice Knowsley, PSS city centre and the Bluecoat Display Centre. Over the last two years, Alison has been producing concept based psychological art working with word art, shredded paper and polyethene structure. Her work has been themed around area’s of mental health, such as bi-polar, well-being, recovery and sexual violence. For this workshop, she addresses thoughts around what is would be like to loose a limb or to struggle with mental well-being to produce a group outcome.

Unit 51 shows some ‘Respect’

For the second year running Unit 51 will host the exhibition of World Mental Health day celebrations, this year fittingly entitles ‘Respect’.

The private view was held on Friday the 7th of October, officially opened by Liverpool’ home grown internationally celebrated artists: The Singh Twins. Liverpool Mental Health Consortium did the city proud with a vast variety of works exhibited to open the two weeks festivities planned around psychological wellbeing.

Alan Murray’ presents a self-port of himself on the brink looking directly into the gallery space and the visitors as they enter. Alan’ career as a painter has gone from strength to strength over the last few years, his most recent highlight being commissioned to paint a portrait of Jamie Carragher. In this he presents Carragher as a Gladiator and surrounds him with aliens, the work will be displayed at the former LFC defenders New York bar. In this work, ‘Curtains’ he uses emotive photo-realism to present an image of himself contemplating suicide, holding his head as it is cracking apart. The shower represents the cleansing of the mind, the tattoo drawing attention to underground narcotics culture so prominent in Britain in the nineteen nineties rave scene, contributions to the mental health issues in today’s climate. Alan looks to draw attention to male suicide rates through his work, currently, the leading killer of men Globally and he has clearly achieved this with this unforgettable image of mental turmoil which we encounter.

In the work of Sue Leach we are presented with a perspective on motherhood, in this, we have a perspective on motherhood showing the stress’s a new mother might feel. Susan has lived in Liverpool for over forty years, on retirement, she began a BA in Fine Art at Wirral Metropolitan College, based in Birkenhead. We are presented with a baby book like form, three solid panels where an infant can help turn the large page like forms as part of the reading process. The panels are made from porcelain to symbolise fragility, bound together with ribbons using methods similar to those used for items of baby clothing. On the panels, there are images of items which relate to childcare, knitting needles, safety pins, nail scissors, zips, but also a hammer. These ‘tools’ of motherhood present opposing views, in this we have items which could help care for a child, but items which could also harm. Sue looks to highlight the anxiety a new mother can feel and how this is dependent on her support

Alison Little presents us with ‘Life from the waist down’ representing the healing process from an act of sexual violence or more specifically: rape. Alison began working with psychically based concepts several years ago when she presented ‘BiPolar B’ for the 2014 World Mental Health celebrations. This form presents the idea of strength and recovery in terms of the later stages of Rape Trauma Syndrome when the healing process is under way. The feathers within the structure indicate a woman who is still fragile, but they are also a very natural material and draw attention to nature’s healing process. The pubic hair is represented by foliage showing regrowth in the position around the groin. Green leave in particular depicting hope renewal and revival. This form shows a woman in recovery and all the strength which surrounds that process.

‘Respect’ brought together a chaotic mix of artists and medium, but with one clear goal to raise awareness around mental health. We have a stunning miniature from Denise Armstrong showing many different version of herself, Virginia Chandler mixed emulsion, acrylic and oils to show us how mixed up she felt struggling with a personality disorder. A hallucination was introduced by Ross Clark, while Anna Middleton shows us how vivid dreams can be on medication. Mickey Mouse was brought in by Chris Mulray to tell us about Aspergers, Ruscoe Ceramics reminded us that things could be fragile with their porcelain. Finishing it all off with Naomi Simone’ Weeping ladies, a haunting image of three heads together bound to impact on your visual memory.

A ‘Must not miss’ exhibition:

Wednesday 12/10 12 noon – 2pm
Thursday 13/10 12 noon – 2pm
Friday 14/10 12 noon – 2pm
Saturday 15/10 11am – 3pm
Sunday 16/10 11am – 3pm


Unit 51, Jamaica Street, Baltic Triangle.

Garston does Culture


Garston does Culture

It was all happening at East Street Arts in Garston Last Friday

8 Artists.

8 short Hours.

80 meter square exhibition space.

The paint was squeezed to the very bottom of tubes, spray enamels were exhausted and creative sparks bounced off the walls of Liverpool’ newest Arts venue, one artist even taking up sticks and moving outside with her panels. The walls were transformed by an assortment of street artists putting the studio space, exhibition venue and performance space firmly on the map.

Kieran Gorman put in a fast and efficient performance, a veteran of street art his graffiti piece took shape quickly dominating the first vision of the new space. He gave us classic ‘Gorman’ use of a dark background with a mixture of lights and tones, dripping paints to produce an electrifying image. Originally from Edinburgh, Kieran founded Zap Graffiti in Liverpool in the mid-nineties. In this they promote graffiti as a positive art form, offering classes for all ages . Kieran has worked on many street art projects, he was one of 4 artists involved in the recent murals on the Littlewoods Buildings in addition to shutter art in the very same Garston. A delight to watch we had Liverpool’ answer to the almighty Banksy in the former supermarket.

Graham Smillie has been a prominent figure in the Liverpool Art World for a number of years. Now based at East Street Arts in Garston his practice compasses visual arts and photography. Pop culture is key to his art forms, photographing bands and exhibition at Arena for the 2014 Threshold festival are highlights from the last few years. His piece for comprises of an expression of his left wing views, using the iconic red star associated with communist ideology. In this, he raises issues around replacing trident, evicting families from housing schemes, nursing costs, tuition fees and he identifies key Political figures. His final statement:

     If you can find the money to kill people

     You can find the money to help people

Encapsulates his views on the current political party leadership in today’ Britain. A strong statement piece from an artist who can turn his attention to different aspects of visual arts practice.

Alison Little was here to present us with work of a new style. In this, she combined painterly techniques of fine arts practise to produce graphical works. She submerged the use of text with texturing methods and building up layers of transparencies to create the effect similar to that an old fashioned dot matrix home printer famed in the 1980’s. Pixelization, stencilling and random layout formed this retro graphics piece, the statement ‘Art, Culture, Garston, Now’ drawing our attention. The use of off centred lettering gave the text the impression of almost suspended in the Blue, murky background. Subject matter key to the piece, representing a vision for regeneration in Garston.

The Final Outcome: after one short day in this pop-up, but colossal exhibition space? A whale casually swimming out from the walls, bubbles sauntering from his blowhole. More sci-fi inspired graffiti one from a co-member at Zap Graffiti making sure there was still light in the dark. Post-Acropolictic rendering of a closed church, two bird-like figure and ‘Religion is a Plague’ great us from a far corner. A rather colourful seascape showing us that everything is alive deep in the ocean. Making the most of the move outside we had a quasi nature-inspired piece, fishing off with the magnificence of a tattoo-clad beauty staring directly at us.

A delight to inspire all, East Street Arts looks to bring Arts and Culture to Garston.