Cherie buttons ~ Interview

by Horror Sleaze Trash on June 27, 2016



HST: Cherie! Dude! I just copped one of your cat tee’s! They are FUCKING PORN!

CB: Awesome!! Thanks so much for getting one. I’ve only released one t-shirt before, about 3 years ago. So I’m excited about having another new design out there!




HST: Aside from making wicked ass cat prints what you been up to?!

CB: If I’m not being creative, a lot of my extra time is spent sleeping. But every day of my life is pretty spent the same way, drawing, painting, riding my bike and watching youtube. I’m always up to something because I feel guilty and bored if I’m not.




HST: your snap chat is full of you rocking heaps of mega scale productions, photos and memories of your favorite please!?

CB: At the moment I am loving doing monotone pieces.  All purples, all pinks, all blues. I did one recently that I really liked in Toowoomba, QLD. I had two days to do it, but the first day it was like 58 kmph winds or something horrible and I had a shit cold. So I attempted to sketch up but gave up and went to sleep at the hotel. Then the next day I smashed it out.




HST: So what’s going on next? How far are the buttons tentacles spreading?

CB: At the moment I’m planning first Brisbane show which I haven’t actually announced yet. I’m heading back to Japan at the end of the year, I would really love to get some art stuff going over there.


HST: have you always been into Graff? Or was it a transition from earlier art interests.

CB: Yeah, I’ve loved graff since I first saw a kid sketching a piece in class when I was about 11 years old.

From then I was always really interested in it. As I got older I tried sketching my own pieces and painting them too, but I quickly came to accept that I’m really bad at lettering and should probably just stick to doing characters. I’ve been drawing all of my life, and I’ve always drawn female characters.  Two years ago I started to meet and hang out with a lot of the local writers around Brisbane and from there I started painting more and more. I’ve been painting for about exactly two years now and its now my favourite medium to work with.


HST: Has it ever been more about bombing for you, or would you rather spend some time doing something clean and major?

CB: Before I started using spray paint to do my characters and stuff, I would bomb. Not hard out, just on walks home with markers or white out pens.  Now I feel like I’m busy being distracted by other things, so I would prefer to be putting the effort into something major.



HST: where did your tag\handle originate from?

CB: Unfortunately theres no interesting story behind this. It was my old username for a blog I had when I was 14 because I liked the name, and I kept it through all of these years. Hahahaha



HST: in your opinion how much has social media world (Insta, FB) impacted the scene, and for better or worse?

CB: I think its good and bad. Good because its so easy to share and see what everyone else is doing. You can see the quality of work coming from people setting the bar on the other side of the world, and it makes you want to push yourself.  Not only that, if painting is also a way of you making money, it helps to get you work. Social media really helped me get my work out there and let people know who I am.

The reason that its kind of bad, is that because of social media sites you are literally seeing 100’s of photos in a space of a minute. For some people it makes it harder to be original because of seeing so many pieces and paintings by other artists at once its easy to subconsciously bite someones work, or take ideas. I feel like it also desensitises you.. I dunno. Its the world now, we’ve gotta deal with it!


HST: Your female charros, they modelled on a muse. Is there a real button woman out there?

CB: My characters are kind of a reference of myself, but more so with the attitude and personalities I give them. I like to over exaggerate them by giving them bigger boobs, big lips, button noses. I’ve seen this one girl on Instagram who seriously the human version of my drawings!!! I love the idea of getting some girls together and dressing them as my real life characters.




HST: who and what inspired/inspires you?

CB: Alot of my friends inspire me. I seem to always surround myself with motivated people who are super organised and always getting shit done. I might not be totally organised, but they inspire me to take on those traits and sort out my shit a bit more haha.

I am pretty motivated myself, but I do get times when I’m just not. And in those times I just chill and don’t draw at all, because I feel like its the right thing to do.

But then this is also where social media comes in handy. Sometimes I can be scrolling through and see something dope another artist has done, and thats all that I need to get my motivation back and inspired again. Some of my favourite artists would have to be Rocking Jellybean, John Kaye, Sobekcis, Ekaer, Onnie O’Leary, Laura Callaghan

Cal Marcius

by Horror Sleaze Trash on June 26, 2016

Cal Marcius is a freelance writer who lives in the frozen wastes of northern England. He has been published in Shotgun HoneyOut of the Gutter, Near to the Knuckle, Spelk and Yellow Mama. He also has a story in Near to the Knuckle’s “Rogue” anthology, as well as Aidan Thorn’s “Palladins” anthology.


My Kind Of Justice

We’re sitting in a bar, are well through our sixth beer, but that’s okay with me. It’s good just sitting here and talking.

“Nobody should come between a man and his dog,” says Mikey. “Nobody. Not an ex-wife and especially not a brother.”

Mikey is small time. Been in and out of jail. Never learns. But he’s my best friend. I stuck by him when others didn’t, and he stuck by me. He was the only one who’d come and visit.

I got out a week ago. Five years inside for a crime my brother set up. That’s what you get when you work with family. The only consolation was our parents weren’t alive to witness it.

“Should’ve kicked the asshole out when the first money went missin’,” Mikey says, sipping his seventh. “Could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta trouble.”

“Didn’t know was him.”

“Didn’t wanna know. There’s a difference.”

Mikey’s right. Of course I knew my brother was siphoning money off the company. How else could he have afforded the BMW, the D&G watch. All the expensive restaurants he took his dates to. First he took the money, then my wife, and then he set me up. Made it look like I stole the money from our own company. Almost two million. Now, he didn’t want to give me back my dog. The one I rescued from some dumpster when he was still a pup.

“We gonna go get him,” Mikey says. “Right now. He’s your dog.”

It’s the drink talking, but I like the idea. Harry’s my dog. I’ve got a right to get him back. We pay the bartender. Leave a good tip. The guy’s working his ass off just to make a living. The clientele doesn’t help. Losers and whores, all drowning their sorrows.

We walk. Mikey’s car is broken and mine was reposessed. We’re too drunk to drive anyway. It takes us forty minutes. The cold air sobers us up a little, but it’s too late to turn back now. We’ve been talking all the way how we’re going to do it.

When we get to my house, the house I’m not allowed to set foot in anymore because my brother now lives there with the ex-wife, I almost turn back.

“Don’t be stupid,” Mikey says. “We do it as we said.”

There’s a ladder in the outhouse. Big, expensive thing. Heavy as hell too. We try to be quiet but it’s not easy, the thing being metal and all. I lean it against the wall and climb up to the office window. I hesitate.

“Go on,” Mikey says, sniggering. “Before someone sees us.”

I heave the window up and climb through, trip over a stack of papers on the floor. The room is messier than it used to be, when it was mine and everything had a place.

I make sure I avoid the loose floor board near the desk as I cross the room. I stick my head around the door. I can’t see a thing, but I can hear my ex-wife in the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Moaning, talking in a way she never talked to me. I tiptoe over and look through the gap in the door.

And there she is. My ex-wife. Naked, her legs wide open and Harry in between. I turn and flee the house. Climb down the ladder as fast as I can, nearly falling off the damn thing.

“Where’s the dog?” Mikey says. And I tell him. And we laugh all the way back to the bar. I think of my brother. The next time he climbs into bed with my ex-wife.

Now, that’s my kind of justice.



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