Geoff Sanderson
@geoffsanderson.bsky.social
Peripatetic Geordie @ North Shields, Paris or wherever hat makes home. NUFC fan. Songwriter Guitarist @ Scottish Polis Inspector.
Creative Director (mentoring, product & IP development, licensing agent) Owner @ Jungle Studio. @wearejunglestudio
Creative Director (mentoring, product & IP development, licensing agent) Owner @ Jungle Studio. @wearejunglestudio
What’s the catch?
Je tends le cou pour voir. Le navire continue de construire. La longue marche. Les lumières de la maison.
Je tends le cou pour voir. Le navire continue de construire. La longue marche. Les lumières de la maison.
January 16, 2025 at 8:52 PM
What’s the catch?
Je tends le cou pour voir. Le navire continue de construire. La longue marche. Les lumières de la maison.
Je tends le cou pour voir. Le navire continue de construire. La longue marche. Les lumières de la maison.
Tapis de cauchemars...
All the stains, trodden in. 10,000 soft souls, leather and tan brogues. You can’t lie on it, it’s going nowhere, it’s not a magic carpet.
All the stains, trodden in. 10,000 soft souls, leather and tan brogues. You can’t lie on it, it’s going nowhere, it’s not a magic carpet.
January 10, 2025 at 9:01 PM
Tapis de cauchemars...
All the stains, trodden in. 10,000 soft souls, leather and tan brogues. You can’t lie on it, it’s going nowhere, it’s not a magic carpet.
All the stains, trodden in. 10,000 soft souls, leather and tan brogues. You can’t lie on it, it’s going nowhere, it’s not a magic carpet.
Vous voulez un coup de pouce ?
Embers in my eye. The crane raises the dawn, the birds in flocks descend and jet silver vapours evaporate.
Embers in my eye. The crane raises the dawn, the birds in flocks descend and jet silver vapours evaporate.
January 7, 2025 at 9:21 AM
Vous voulez un coup de pouce ?
Embers in my eye. The crane raises the dawn, the birds in flocks descend and jet silver vapours evaporate.
Embers in my eye. The crane raises the dawn, the birds in flocks descend and jet silver vapours evaporate.
Le soleil gris…
Always other forms within. Shapeshifters stalking the skies. Cold hands, feet and sleet gives time for only a frozen glance.
Always other forms within. Shapeshifters stalking the skies. Cold hands, feet and sleet gives time for only a frozen glance.
January 6, 2025 at 9:44 PM
Le soleil gris…
Always other forms within. Shapeshifters stalking the skies. Cold hands, feet and sleet gives time for only a frozen glance.
Always other forms within. Shapeshifters stalking the skies. Cold hands, feet and sleet gives time for only a frozen glance.
Autoportrait…
Life on a loop. In between realities. A moment in real life, science fiction and art.
Life on a loop. In between realities. A moment in real life, science fiction and art.
January 3, 2025 at 5:52 PM
Autoportrait…
Life on a loop. In between realities. A moment in real life, science fiction and art.
Life on a loop. In between realities. A moment in real life, science fiction and art.
Les jours intermédiaires…
Monochrome grey skies full of cold. Wet tyre tracks on the road. When the neon can no longer be bothered and the leaves are asleep. Bonne année mes amis.
Monochrome grey skies full of cold. Wet tyre tracks on the road. When the neon can no longer be bothered and the leaves are asleep. Bonne année mes amis.
January 1, 2025 at 4:19 PM
Les jours intermédiaires…
Monochrome grey skies full of cold. Wet tyre tracks on the road. When the neon can no longer be bothered and the leaves are asleep. Bonne année mes amis.
Monochrome grey skies full of cold. Wet tyre tracks on the road. When the neon can no longer be bothered and the leaves are asleep. Bonne année mes amis.
4.20 from Newcastle
Nous nous penchons, nous nous tordons dans l'air froid. Par la fenêtre, Khruangbin joue dans les nuages tandis que le soir tombe vers la grande ville.
Nous nous penchons, nous nous tordons dans l'air froid. Par la fenêtre, Khruangbin joue dans les nuages tandis que le soir tombe vers la grande ville.
December 30, 2024 at 11:56 AM
4.20 from Newcastle
Nous nous penchons, nous nous tordons dans l'air froid. Par la fenêtre, Khruangbin joue dans les nuages tandis que le soir tombe vers la grande ville.
Nous nous penchons, nous nous tordons dans l'air froid. Par la fenêtre, Khruangbin joue dans les nuages tandis que le soir tombe vers la grande ville.
7.30 am fresh from my dreams
L'humeur indigo répand un miel orange glorieux. Cachés par les nuages, ils nous retiennent et nous sommes retenus.
L'humeur indigo répand un miel orange glorieux. Cachés par les nuages, ils nous retiennent et nous sommes retenus.
December 29, 2024 at 9:42 AM
7.30 am fresh from my dreams
L'humeur indigo répand un miel orange glorieux. Cachés par les nuages, ils nous retiennent et nous sommes retenus.
L'humeur indigo répand un miel orange glorieux. Cachés par les nuages, ils nous retiennent et nous sommes retenus.
9am from Amsterdam…
L'aube se lève, brûlant mes yeux. Un bateau passe devant ma fenêtre. Mes mots en gouttes s'égouttent dans le néant.
L'aube se lève, brûlant mes yeux. Un bateau passe devant ma fenêtre. Mes mots en gouttes s'égouttent dans le néant.
December 4, 2024 at 9:11 AM
9am from Amsterdam…
L'aube se lève, brûlant mes yeux. Un bateau passe devant ma fenêtre. Mes mots en gouttes s'égouttent dans le néant.
L'aube se lève, brûlant mes yeux. Un bateau passe devant ma fenêtre. Mes mots en gouttes s'égouttent dans le néant.
Christmas decorations…
Où sont les bibelots ?
Où sont les bibelots ?
December 3, 2024 at 7:56 PM
Christmas decorations…
Où sont les bibelots ?
Où sont les bibelots ?
Je voyage…
Glass, steel, repeated neon. Free of the arc lights, into the air. Fasten your seatbelts on upended time.
Glass, steel, repeated neon. Free of the arc lights, into the air. Fasten your seatbelts on upended time.
December 2, 2024 at 11:04 PM
Je voyage…
Glass, steel, repeated neon. Free of the arc lights, into the air. Fasten your seatbelts on upended time.
Glass, steel, repeated neon. Free of the arc lights, into the air. Fasten your seatbelts on upended time.
Tous alignés...
Kandinsky’s birds of an architectural feather. Meccano a go go. Upstairs to the pigeon grey day.
Kandinsky’s birds of an architectural feather. Meccano a go go. Upstairs to the pigeon grey day.
December 1, 2024 at 5:02 PM
Tous alignés...
Kandinsky’s birds of an architectural feather. Meccano a go go. Upstairs to the pigeon grey day.
Kandinsky’s birds of an architectural feather. Meccano a go go. Upstairs to the pigeon grey day.
Jeter un œil dehors...
Viens, arteries like roots. White, crisp underfoot. Leaving my footprint, while passing you by.
Viens, arteries like roots. White, crisp underfoot. Leaving my footprint, while passing you by.
November 30, 2024 at 10:03 AM
Jeter un œil dehors...
Viens, arteries like roots. White, crisp underfoot. Leaving my footprint, while passing you by.
Viens, arteries like roots. White, crisp underfoot. Leaving my footprint, while passing you by.
Qu'est-ce qu'une nation ?
Bright, psychedelic and shit streaked. It comes for me, the doors close. It takes me home.
Bright, psychedelic and shit streaked. It comes for me, the doors close. It takes me home.
November 28, 2024 at 10:10 AM
Qu'est-ce qu'une nation ?
Bright, psychedelic and shit streaked. It comes for me, the doors close. It takes me home.
Bright, psychedelic and shit streaked. It comes for me, the doors close. It takes me home.
À la lumière de la lune...
The moon like a giants toe nail. Thoughts deep in pockets, signals rebound and vibrate. Space is the place…
The moon like a giants toe nail. Thoughts deep in pockets, signals rebound and vibrate. Space is the place…
November 26, 2024 at 9:47 AM
À la lumière de la lune...
The moon like a giants toe nail. Thoughts deep in pockets, signals rebound and vibrate. Space is the place…
The moon like a giants toe nail. Thoughts deep in pockets, signals rebound and vibrate. Space is the place…
Dehors sans chapeau…
Nothing compares to you, and you, and you, and you, and you and you.
Nothing compares to you, and you, and you, and you, and you and you.
November 25, 2024 at 3:51 PM
Dehors sans chapeau…
Nothing compares to you, and you, and you, and you, and you and you.
Nothing compares to you, and you, and you, and you, and you and you.
Le salon de Robert Smith…
Outside. Icicles fall shattering like glass. Somewhere. Les revenants sont revenus. Inside. He lies awake in your house…
Outside. Icicles fall shattering like glass. Somewhere. Les revenants sont revenus. Inside. He lies awake in your house…
November 23, 2024 at 9:12 PM
Le salon de Robert Smith…
Outside. Icicles fall shattering like glass. Somewhere. Les revenants sont revenus. Inside. He lies awake in your house…
Outside. Icicles fall shattering like glass. Somewhere. Les revenants sont revenus. Inside. He lies awake in your house…
En bas de Paris, en haut de Toulon...
Packed a sac à dos. See past lives worn on the rails. Oh my eyes…the fire escape to the skies…
Packed a sac à dos. See past lives worn on the rails. Oh my eyes…the fire escape to the skies…
November 22, 2024 at 9:23 PM
En bas de Paris, en haut de Toulon...
Packed a sac à dos. See past lives worn on the rails. Oh my eyes…the fire escape to the skies…
Packed a sac à dos. See past lives worn on the rails. Oh my eyes…the fire escape to the skies…
Neige en banlieue jeudi soir…
F*ck the cost; radiators on full. Is the cat out? To sleep perchance to dream…
F*ck the cost; radiators on full. Is the cat out? To sleep perchance to dream…
November 22, 2024 at 6:33 PM
Neige en banlieue jeudi soir…
F*ck the cost; radiators on full. Is the cat out? To sleep perchance to dream…
F*ck the cost; radiators on full. Is the cat out? To sleep perchance to dream…
Bonjour depuis la banlieue...
Early morning walk in the cold. Is there a god? Will the bakery have sold out of croissants? I’ll put the bins out later.
Early morning walk in the cold. Is there a god? Will the bakery have sold out of croissants? I’ll put the bins out later.
November 20, 2024 at 8:20 AM
Bonjour depuis la banlieue...
Early morning walk in the cold. Is there a god? Will the bakery have sold out of croissants? I’ll put the bins out later.
Early morning walk in the cold. Is there a god? Will the bakery have sold out of croissants? I’ll put the bins out later.
Good morning echo chamber, chamber, chamber…
November 20, 2024 at 6:43 AM
Good morning echo chamber, chamber, chamber…