Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Rollo is now nearly two and a half, a strapping boy of 49kg - less than Munson or Bondi, but I suspect stronger than either.

For those of you who followed us on our Facebook page, I'm sorry for the sudden disappearance, but I just got fed up with the whole site. We do post on Instagram still.

Monday, January 22, 2018



I'm Rollo, named after the Viking who became the first Duke of Normandy a looong time ago. Even before there was a Munson or a Bondi.

Some of you may know me from my dad's instagram (hashtag Rollo or whatever that means) but if you are meeting me for the first time: HELLO!

I am 12 months old, and while I am not as big as my brother Munson was, I am more than twenty times bigger than my older cat brother Logan. I also like swimming but what is it about these waves that keep hitting me again and again? I am looking at them now. I am also looking at my dad who has seaweed on his head on purpose. I sometimes think I understand him less than these waves.

My dad is a bit sad now that Munson has gone away, but I am keeping him distracted by digging holes and eating shoes. If you come visit, I will eat your shoes. Please visit, or just *send shoes*.

bye for now


Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Munson 2008-2017

Munson passed away peacefully at 1pm today, held by Mike and Gustav. As with Bondi's loss in 2009, for me this is like losing several limbs and a heart. Although cancer hit him early at age 5, Munson had an extraordinarily packed life, accompanying me through about fifteen countries from Gibraltar to Stockholm, and walking half the length of Offa's Dyke. He swam in Mediterranean, North Atlantic, and Baltic waters. A quarter of his life was spent on Grasspunk Farm in the sleepy southwest of France, where he chased chickens, wild boar, deer and rabbits.
His later life in Sydney was spent swimming in warmer Pacific waters and in thoughtful commentary on the antics of other dogs at Enmore Park. I can only imagine him now, travelling peacefully without pain, accompanied by the ghost of the predeceased roomba that chased him from slumbers around the house as it attempted to consume a bale of hair each day. We all have happy memories of Munson. Let them chase away the sorrow of this day. - Mike

Saturday, August 01, 2015

Oseberg Sleeve–days 3 and 4

2015-07-31 Bornholm
The amount of work involved in doing the tattoo on a large “canvas” my arm spun out an extra day, giving me a total of about 32 hours on the table. Day three saw my upper arm completed and then the shoulder work on the last day. These sections involved working through my original “Fais que ton rêve …” armband done in Paris back in 2006 (seen above) and then my most recent work higher on the shoulder.

What is terrifically pleasing above and beyond the artistry, is that these photos taken within minutes of completed sections show absolutely no bleeding or other irritation.
Pretty good for what is about three to four A4 pages of work. I didn’t have time to grab post-able photos of the shoulder work before we dashed across the island to put me on the last afternoon ferry back to the mainland.

On the Friday evening I asked to be dropped off in Nexø to do some food shopping. A small jazz festival was in progress, but the only musical activity I saw was by the waterfront. It was the end of the holiday season, but a run of bad weather had seen off most of the tourists, although when I reached the ferry I could see that the belated 36 hours of sunshine had produced an abundance of sun-burnt Nordic faces.
Nexo waterfront
Nexo muralI’m not sure that I was ever taken on the same road twice as I was chaUFFEured around, although I did note from the signs that “all roads lead to Rønne”.
All roads lead to Ronne - 1All roads lead to Ronne - 2
Once back on the mainland at Ystad, I switched to the train for Malmö and then again to Ängelholm where Gustav’s sister Isabel picked me up.

It’s a pity there such a final rush as I missed out on having a more relaxed post-tattoo talk with Uffe, who have enormous respect for as an artist and person. I would endeavour to re-connect with him in Copenhagen before I left, possibly to have his official photographer record my work, the Oseberg sleeve.

Friday, July 31, 2015

Oseberg sleeve–days 1 and 2

sketching on the bodyWhen I arrived on the island yesterday I spent some time with my tattooist Uffe Berenth, going over the themes which would shape my tattoo. This is the first time I’m having work done where artist and executor are one and the same, and for such a large canvas it’s really necessary for the topology to be taken into account. So, for the first few hours, I stand shirtless and arm-shaven as Uffe sketches over the natural lines of muscle and joint on my left arm, the natural contours eventually morphing into the major figures you see above and below.

The chief design inspiration is the Oseberg ship, a Viking ship found preserved in a Norwegian burial mound about a hundred years ago. and in particular, the set of “gripping beasts” which characterise the elaborate wood carvings on the ship. This Oseberg style is earlier than the Ringerike and Urnes styles used to create the “dog in surf” tattoo I had done early last year.

Uffe is working around that tattoo and the one below it – my armband done in Paris in 2006. Since I’m a big guy, the initial three day project is likely to spill into four, so I have a lot of “ouch” to get through to earn this sleeve.

End of day 1 - outline work doneAt the end of the first full day, all of the outlining, from wrist to shoulder had been done. It’s the end of this second day that the real genius of Uffe’s design and execution reveal themselves with the combination of Nordic dotwork and the elaborate texturing that fills in the bodies of these two beasts. The original Oseberg beasts are wolfish-to-ambiguous at best, but Uffe has gone over various malamute pictures to steer the profiles into a broader set.

…and speaking of malamutes, I’ve started imagining that Munson is lying on the floor by the table, spine pressed against the wall with legs extended. My phantom Munson occasionally turns his head to me, assesses the likelihood of a walk, and then resumes the slumbering position with a sigh.

1-2015-07-30 Bornholm
Midway through the second day I take advantage of some pain-killers and a book to drag my mind way from the pain. I’ve read through most of my other tattoos, but I need this external focus more than ever for such a long project. By the end of the day, the fore-arm is basically done, give or take some texturing around the inner elbow which is one of the more painful sites.

In the evening I’m taken to dinner with Uffe and family at a town a little way up the coast – it reminds me of a Cornish fishing village like Mevagissey, even down to the odour of fish and chips wafting across the harbour.


Wednesday, July 29, 2015


1-Denmark-Skane-BornholmOh look, I’m on an island. In the Baltic. Without a malamute.

I’m not sure which is more surprising: me being an island I hadn’t even heard of a month ago, or travelling without a dog.

On Monday, Gustav and I flew to Copenhagen for a vacation and to attend a family celebration. Unfortunately a brief long-distance trip meant leaving Munson behind, but he’s in good hands, and undoubtedly enjoying one of Sydney’s coldest winters in recent times. Our travel time, including Singapore stop-over was only 24 hours, depositing us in Denmark about 6am amidst a brief squall of summer rain.

For the next few days we’ll be apart – Gustav hopped onto the train to Sweden, and I have this side-trip to Bornholm until the weekend. Perched off the SE coast of Sweden and north of Poland, the island is actually a part of Denmark albeit connected to the Swedish electricity grid by one of the longest submarine cables in Europe. I got here via the 866 bus across the Øresund Bridge to Ystad (home to fictional detective Kurt Wallander) and then a ferry to Rønne on the island’s west coast.

I suggested to someone that because of its location and popularity during summer vacations, I was visiting “the Hawaii of the Baltic”, but was quickly corrected with a “so, not like Hawaii at all”. However I am not here to enjoy the Whitehaven-like sands of Snoegebeck but to get a tattoo in the Nordic style.

Time to sleep.