Last night I ripped this from my walls. The time as come to redecorate.

But now I feel naked.

While standing on my bed carefully peeling off each piece of cheap and flimsy NME paper I danced a little jig and played in turn and in length my greatest memories from 2005 - The Killers’ Hot Fuss, Maximo Park’s A Certain Trigger, and Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm. Belting out each and every word to some of the first records I ever loved was great fun and I was impressed but pleasantly unsurprised to still remember the words having not heard some of the songs in years. It’s the best I’ve felt in ages. 

When the fancy and whim comes to have a switch around I always find it an incredibly cleansing activity. To spruce up and change around the four-walled box you spend the majority of your time in is a very cathartic experience indeed, for me anyway. This collection of magazine covers, hero portraits and festival landscapes has been building up since 2009 when I first placed the huge A1 Glastonbury poster on the centre of my wall. It had been my first Glastonbury and I remained overcome with the vastness, unity and possibility of the festival for a long time afterwards. I can even make out my tent on this shiny coated print, how would it not end up on my wall for all the world to see?

All I know now is how much I dislike empty walls. This random act to de-construct my past and present ideologies coupled with revisiting nostalgia-filled albums left me with what is sadly now a rare inspired creative urge. Clear walls you say? A blank canvas awaits my time to grow up and I’m hoping to dig out a pencil and paintbrush to create something new. Reflecting the seeming intermission in my world outside my bedroom I’m hoping desperately to inject the much needed and missed colour and innovation back onto my walls. It’s been a long while since I’ve done anything to be proud of but hopefully I’ll end up with more like these.

I’m going to start with a glorified self portrait. Probably from a festival, naturally. I’ll keep you posted.