When I was a boy there were three things you were expected to say: I wanna be a fireman, I wanna be a pilot, I wanna be a soldier. The fact that I said it also, meant that I was average. I’ve learned to live with it.
I have to confess that I never said, “I wanna be a dog,” or the pope. But I got the fact that we were conditioned into respecting guys who did their jobs in fancy uniforms. And I didn’t know how to rebel. That came later.
Little boys want things that supposedly give them authority, from a very young age. It’s scary. But hopefully, there are boys who are drawn to the idea of simply polishing a fire truck all day so it looks good, and saving a life here and there when opportunity knocks. Because the idea of joining the Foreign Legion to protect desert nomads is about as absurd as wanting to become an astronaut because you can float in space, with an empty fishbowl over your head before colonizing the moon for America.
The world of a child is a world of endless possibilities. And while we should interrogate those, it’s awful to create art that ultimately shows what a downer it is to be a “clever” adult.
I enjoy the idea of beginning to create an artwork about something we all should explore, from a completely fresh point of entry. How wonderful then, that my exploration of three youths who realise their boyish ambitions has landed up as a label on a fine bottle of whisky.
It does suggest that you can plot your route, and decide for yourself what sort of drinking companion you’d like to become when you get there