For illustrator Phavin night and day blend carelessly. On a regular day Phavin wakes up, greases his hair, pours himself a coffee, cautiously places a vinyl record on his fifties portable Philips and simply continues where his dreams have carried him. Maybe on this particular day he imagines his subject – let’s take a graceful red-haired young woman – driving a Norton Featherbed. Phavin does not only see that woman on her bike, he envisions her whole existence. A regular girl at first the Venetian blonde intuitively grows into a Bond girl type, combining her undeniable but elusive grace with some congenital superpower. She could easily be your girl next door, if she isn’t out on a covert quest to safeguard the benefaction of humanity. Then all of a sudden the moment is there. On the tones of The Chromatics’ Tick of the Clock Phavin takes up his pencil. Ripened and ready to burst, the once minute idea pops into a line, fluently curved to the upper right of the unfilled page to then being slowly bent downwards again. Up and down it goes bestowing upon the idea a shape. Imagination is turned into image. Some moments later the personal fantasy has become a detailed figure, ready for a life outdoors.
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