A dense, graffiti-backed group composition crammed with incident. At the top, a green-skinned woman in a jester-collared top, face painted white with a clown's grin, brandishes a wrench-like weapon amid a spray of green foam or slime. Below her looms a hulking, grey-skinned muscle-man, arms crossed, flanked by a second painted performer in red and gold with bared fangs and a short blade. A snarling tiger crouches at the group's feet, and the whole cluster is framed against a wall scrawled with spray-painted tags and half-legible words, the kind of urban decay Bisley often used as a backdrop for otherwise larger-than-life figures. A thin red border and the artist's stylised Biz signature sit in the corner, dated 97. The costuming - grease-paint faces, ruffled collars, garish colour-blocking - reads as carnival-grotesque rather than cute, in keeping with a body of work that regularly turned circus and clown imagery toward something closer to horror than comedy. Composition-wise it's built like a totem pole, each figure stacked to draw the eye upward from tiger to towering muscle-man to the painted woman at the apex, every element rendered with the same thick, confident brushwork and saturated colour that made Bisley's painted work stand out on comic shop shelves through the 1990s - dense, slightly grimy, and packed with more character detail than a single glance can take in.
Two girls dressed as clowns fight Simon Coldwater
