Ever heard of Anna Lomax? She's got one of those names that rolls off the tongue and makes you feel like surely you've met her before - in an East London underground club or on the streets of Brick Lane - even though you probably haven't. But it's not the plausible sense of deja vu that makes Ms Lomax so unforgettable it's her art pieces, an amalgamation of bizarre influences from pound shops and junk to today's pop culture. The South London illustration graduate has already racked up an impressive client list since her transition into the professional world in 2007, including Nike, Topshop, Selfridges and Garage Magazine.
Her pieces are fantastic, seriously cool. They seem to make no sense at all but make complete sense entirely. A modern Alice-in-Wonderland-whimsical spin on everyday objects and the world today. I think that what I love so much about her work is the fashion influences. Her art is aesthetically pleasing from the point of view of inspiration - like it belongs on some kind of mood board, a fashion students dream, alongside conceptual pictures of buildings and blooming flowers. It's not the kind of art you pay an extortionate price for, hang in your front room and pay no notice to from thereon forward - a symbol of status and wealth rather than an eye for the fantastical. It's the kind of art that makes you want to put on that fuchsia lipstick because Why not, it's a Wednesday? It's the kind of art that makes you want to wear neon trousers to work because casual Friday should be every day. Ultimately, it's my kind of art. And, since I'm an outspoken, opinionated Loudmouth, it should be your kind of art too. Just saying.