The Art Of Rigabow Jones

Art Gallery in Walsall

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2 Spring Drive

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art, art gallery, art work


  • Landscape artist
  • Caricatures
  • Portrait Artist
  • Commissioned Artwork
  • Portrait Artist

Web Design | Birmingham, Walsall, Birmingham, UK

What is there to know about Rigabow Jones?

In an underworld place, where unsuspecting visitors find the demons they never knew could orchestrate such cruel consequences, lives Rigabow Jones.
A man of distinction, talent and charm, he lives with the unwelcome, unclean and uncaring in a home without innocence, without light or hope.
And in this maze of time, where the barbarous Great Magician has stolen seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months and years, he hones his skills. His is not a willing victim of this malevolent invader; just one of many whom have sipped on his nectar and fallen under the spell of his tyranny.
Rigabow was once young, skipping through the rigours of learning, living and love. But now he's old, much older, age is only for the passing, the marking off of what's left.

Why, he asks: "Is this Magician always vengeful, unyielding in his strategy of sinful pursuit? Why me, why any of the other Rigabows? There are many, too many. Answers on canvas please, a good quality parchment would do, and don't forget, he'll understand every mix, every colour, the light, the shade and perspective.
He knows them all: The fine, the abstract, the surreal, the chiaroscuro, the chromatic, the classical, the composition, the distressed, a dry brush and cartoon.
These are they that sit at his feet, the servants of his expression, the words that cannot be uttered, the fears that exist only in this horrid desolation of existing.
The galleries of Rigabow's soul are full – caverns of the bizarre and there, not knowing whom is friend or foe, often he raises a glass to the infamous of history. Is the Great Magician the spirit of all that is broken?
Why will he not leave the world's Rigabows rest? Of course, he cannot; he has a role to play.
He is the product of his own insurrection and Rigabow another of his tortured wretches.
Picture this: A shifting line of time, where young becomes old, where older becomes youthful, where the exuberance of childhood is revisited and lost in haze over and over.
And emerging from this hell is drug-induced peace, sleep, the unexplained realisation of the harmonies of love (she is Rigabow's constant companion) and artist's hands. Beneath the brush, the pen the pencils, beneath the crayons pastels and paints, lies his reason be being.


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