Moon Patrol is one of those paintings where the subject arrives already loaded with history, noise, and ambition. The toy at its centre is an outstanding example of one of the most sought-after comic space toys of the twentieth century: the 1935 Marx Buck Rogers Rocket Police Patrol. It is not tin but steel litho, heavier, tougher, and somehow more serious, despite its playful intent. The colours are stark and unapologetic blue-green and red, locked together in bold contrast, the kind of palette that refuses subtlety and instead demands attention. This is a toy designed to be seen, even in the dark.

The rocket’s form is wonderfully ambiguous. With its cartoon-like portholes, fins, and tapered body, it could just as easily be a fish gliding through deep water or a bird poised for flight. There is a lifelike quality to it, as if it might twitch or breathe when no one is watching. The open cockpit adds to this sense of animation. Buck sits exposed beneath an aluminium cowl, helmet on, ray gun raised, alert and ready. This is not a passive passenger; this is a patrol, a mission, a hero in motion.

Anyone who has encountered this toy in real life remembers the sound. As it moves, it makes a distinctive “boing-boing” noise, accompanied by sparks shooting from the exhaust. It is theatrical, noisy, and impossible to ignore. That sound is echoed visually in the painting, even though the scene itself is quiet. You can almost hear it, cutting through the stillness of the night, breaking the calm of a suburban lawn.

The setting grounds the fantasy. The rocket sits on a path, washed blue by the night, its steel body reflecting the cool light of the moon. The lawn provides scale, reminding us that this machine, for all its bravado, is small. Grass blades rise like a forest around it, placing the rocket firmly back in the realm of the domestic and the familiar. In the background, a mid-century house glows softly. A single lamp burns in a window, a quiet human presence observing or perhaps oblivious to the drama unfolding outside.

The moon dominates everything. Full, bright, and impossibly large, it is the primary source of light, dwarfing both the house and the toy. It turns the scene into something more than a nostalgic vignette. The hero may be the toy, but the moon tells another story. It reminds us how small we are, how small our inventions are, even at their most ambitious. The universe looms vast and indifferent, while below, on a suburban lawn, a steel rocket patrols bravely against imagined threats.

Moon Patrol balances wonder and humility. It celebrates design, imagination, and childhood belief in heroes, while quietly acknowledging scale and insignificance. It is a painting about ambition, play, and perspective about aiming a ray gun at the night sky, knowing full well that the moon will always have the final word.

Oil on fine portrait linen: 75 x 95 cm; 29.52 x 37.40 in (Sold)