13 March 2009

'The Artist' and 'The Process'

It is 1.45pm, and I have made it through ‘til after lunch before even looking at this computer. Pats-on-the-back all round.

I have been working with great purpose, in contrast to last Wednesday, when… Well you know what happened last time...

I feel a lot more comfortable in my role as ‘the artist’ today. I have been reading Roxy by Michael Bracewell, and getting all nostalgic for my art school days, which has awakened my thirst for ‘the process’, and given me a much needed fresh impetus to create.

I propped this canvas on the easel, determined to bring it towards some form of completion.

And when I’d finished:

the iPod is running low on juice, so I’ve resorted to the wireless – 6Music, Adam Ant is on. This is a good thing.

Wildlife watch
Earlier, I stepped down the ladder for a breath of fresh air, and discovered 2 ducks looking round the garden. “There ain’t no pond here.” I told them, and they looked a little confused, and left.

3.45pm: I think I deserve a tea break whilst I contemplate my next move.

Injury count:
So far today I have cracked my shin on the ladder, giving me a nice bump and graze just below my knee. I have also smacked my head on one of the low beams of the pitched roof. The hazards of working in a cramped loft-space are many – though I have, thankfully, not yet taken a tumble down the hatch, despite my vertigo tempting me and taunting me every time I venture near.

Now you may be thinking: If you have vertigo, why loiter near the edge?
Here’s an explanation, in someone else's words:
“What is vertigo? Fear of falling? Then why do we feel it even when the observation tower comes equipped with a sturdy handrail? No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us. It is the desire to fall, against which terrified, we defend ourselves.”
Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. (1984: p56)

And now, it’s almost time to go. I’ll clean up the brushes, and clean my grubby hands, then I’m ready to catch the train to take me home to see my wife and cat.

Today has been a good day.

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