Motörhead - ORIGINAL "WARPIG" ARTWORKThe only one in the world! It may sound an outrageous statement, but it is in fact true.Legendary Heavy Metal group Motörhead memorabilia.The vendor, who regularly designed much of their tour and retail merchandise for well over a decade, has offered for sale this piece of unique and genuine actual artwork for the iconic trademark "Warpig" emblem. This has been used on all official merchandise since 1987.From the Alleyne Collection.We also have a letter from the vendor about his time spent with Lemmy on many occasions whilst discussing and designing the iconic logo. A digital copy of this letter will be given to the winning bidder of the item.This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to obtain the original artwork.Provenance and background on the Artwork:The client recalls:“One morning I was called into one of the company owners’ offices and told that “Motörhead” had signed to the company the night before. Did I know their work? Could I work in their style? And, more importantly, would I go and take a meeting with them? “Yes, yes and yes.” Lemmy had a reputation for not suffering anyone at the business end of the biz-we-call-show particularly gladly, but apparently, I was our best shot. And while Lemmy and I had never been exactly fist-bumping buds (me and my friends were just interchangeable teenage kids buying from his mates back in the olden days), I felt surprisingly confident that he’d accept me as the contact. And his parting reprimand to my colleagues on signing was, allegedly: “Don't ever send me anyone in a f*cking suit!” So no problem there.Lemmy and Philthy were living in a mews house in Mayfair rented for them by their management – following a reputedly eye-wateringly expensive sojourn at the Ritz, just up the road. The day of the meeting arrived, so I put on my office wear du jour (full Rocker leathers – “Elvis ’68” – or so I fancied), sat astride my 1963 Triumph Thunderbird, and set off for Mayfair. My un-baffled pipes ensured that everyone within a mile radius could hear me coming. I pulled up outside the address, dismounted, and banged the heavy Georgian door knocker to announce my arrival. After some dull thumping and muffled cursing, I heard the locks and chain on the door being wrestled into compliance – and then the door swung open. Lemmy looked like sh*t. He was the poster boy for near-death influenza. His skin was almost grey and gleamed dully with a thin sheen of sick-sweat. He was hunched over and snuffling – not at all the proud, shoulders-back, head-held-high character I had expected to see. “What do you want?” he asked.“We have a meeting.” He straightened up and held the door open. I walked in. The doorway opened into a large-ish living room draped with First World War imperial German and Japanese banners. The curtains were still drawn, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom after the crisp brightness of the day outside. “Do you want a drink?” “Yes. Thanks.” An achingly flu-ridden Lemmy cracks open a fresh quart of Jack, swigs a few great gulps from the bottle, then hands it to me, fixing me with a beady stare. Without missing a beat, or breaking eye contact for even a moment, I take a gulp, then another, and hand the bottle back. He motions towards an armchair. “Do you smoke?” “Ta.” As we sit, Lemmy takes a cigarette from a crumpled pack and puts it to his mouth to light it. I can't help but notice the watery mucous glistening on his moustache, dripping onto the cigarette filter as he leans forward. He hands me the cigarette. Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact for even a moment, I take a deep draw. There are a few long seconds of silence as Lemmy scrutinises his visitor. I exhale, sending a plume of smoke above his head.“You’ll do. Shall we have this meeting, then?”It turns out that we have a major problem to solve before we’ve even started. Lemmy and artist Joe Petagno, with whom he had co-authored the notorious "Warpig" graphic in the mid- ’70s – the single visual device that everyone identifies with the band – have fallen out. Seriously. And the original artwork they created has gone walkies. “Can you make us a new one?” “Yes.”Lemmy and Petagno later made up, and Alleyne on meeting Petagno one day some time later recalls “Hi, I’m Joe. You’re Alleyne, right?” We shook hands. “Hi.” “You did the Warpig, right?” “Er, yes.” (I wasn’t entirely sure which way this was going.) “I just wanted to say, great. Better than the original!”So this version here has been used on the official merchandise ever since. Motörhead's "Warpig" is a significant symbol. Not just of the band, but culturally of the entire spectrum of 'Heavy Rock', and 'Heavy Metal' in general - in much the same way as “Hoover” has become synonymous with ‘vacuum cleaners’.This is an original and exceptional piece of draughtspersonship, and not merely a product of design mechanicals. There is only ONE of them in the world. (Petagno's air-brush painted version having been lost or destroyed years before this was created.) Not to be missed!
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