Fire-Breathing Dragon Unleashed on the Hobbits of Newport

You wait years to paint a dragon and then two come at once. Typical.

I painted the Mono Metals dragon during a balmy week in September 2022. The guys at IDM doors, which is just opposite, decided that they need their own dragon. By the time I came to start painting it was bloody freezing. I spent 2 days in my thermal onsie, pretending that the flames I was painting were helping keeping me warm. I designed the dragon to have an element of trompe l’oeil illusion and tried to give the impression that it was dropping through the wall. The mural was painted entirely freehand using spray paint. I use a stencil cap to get the finer details on the scales.

So, just to let you know that I can’t stand writing blog posts, so, as well as my simple description above I’m now deciding to let chatgpt have a crack at it too.

I’ve asked it to rewrite my post in the style of author Irvine Welsh. I have no idea why, apart from I like messing around with AI. I think it’s best to do it now before it wipes us from the face of the planet.

Here’s what Irvine has to say…

“Bloody hell, painting dragons ain’t no walk in the park, especially when they decide to tag-team you. Talk about life’s cruel little surprises. You’d think I’d be thrilled, right? Two dragons, two opportunities to let my artistic flair soar to new heights. But nah, fate had other plans. Just my luck.

Let me set the scene for you, my fellow wanderers in the world of paint and rebellion. It was the year 2022, September to be exact. The sun was still shining its arse off, warming the streets and setting everything ablaze with its golden touch. I had my eyes set on painting a beast, a glorious creation that would leave jaws dropping and minds boggling.

And so, armed with brushes and cans of colors, I embarked on my mission. The chosen canvas? The IDM doors, right across from where I stood, ready to unleash my artistic fury. The Mono Metals dragon was my first conquest, a fiery vision that I brought to life with each stroke, my soul pouring onto the walls.

But oh, the gods of mischief and irony had something else in store for me. As if mocking my artistic aspirations, the blokes at IDM doors decided they couldn’t resist the allure of their own dragon. And so, in the blink of an eye, my solo expedition turned into a bloody duet.

The gods of weather must have had a good laugh, too, as the temperature plummeted faster than a junkie chasing a fix. It was freezing, my bones rattling within my body as if they were playing a merry tune of their own. Yet, there I stood, wrapped in my thermal onsie, a pathetic attempt at finding warmth amidst the icy air. The flames I painted on the dragon’s body were but a cruel illusion, teasing me with their warmth as I shivered in my little world of frozen misery.

But hey, let’s not dwell on the hardships, for art waits for no man, woman, or bloody weather. My vision was clear, my determination unyielding. I wanted this dragon to be more than a mere image on a wall; I wanted it to transcend the boundaries of reality, to fool the eyes and minds of all who laid their gaze upon it.

And so, I embraced the technique of trompe l’oeil, a crafty devil that tricks the senses into believing what they see isn’t what it really is. I wanted this dragon to break through the very fabric of the wall, to make passersby question their perception of the world around them. A dragon, suspended in mid-air, ready to pounce or take flight, forever frozen in its ethereal existence.

With spray paint cans in hand, I set forth, my fingers dancing across the wall with a frenzy only true artists possess. Freehand, I painted, allowing the dragon to emerge stroke by stroke, its scales taking shape, its eyes piercing through the concrete jungle. And when finesse was required, when the smallest details needed to be etched, I turned to my trusty stencil cap, a magician’s wand in the hands of an urban sorcerer.

Day and night merged into one, my body aching, my mind buzzing with a mixture of exhaustion and euphoria. I lost track of time, of the cold that gnawed at my very core. All that mattered was the dragon, my creation, my manifestation of a world where beasts roam free and reality bends to the will of imagination.

And when the final stroke was placed, when the dragon stood proud and fierce, its illusory presence mesmerizing all who passed by, I stood back and let out a weary, triumphant sigh. Two dragons, born from my hands, painted on opposing walls, forever entwined in a dance of fire.”

Thanks Irvine, or Chatgpt, or perhaps the satanic AI overlords.