[WEDNESDAY 13 MAY 2009]
Not feeling particularly sparky today, so bear with me if I get a little tetchy.
I’m back werking on SPQR after I gave it a fallow week (these neon paintings often need a rest after each layer to allow the paint to dry a bit before over-painting – hence a “fallow period”).
It is 10.46am. I haven’t done a thing yet. Right now I feel like writing the whole day off and going back to bed.
It is now 11.56am. I have werked up another layer, and I think I deserve a tea break.
2.30pm. Still struggling, but still here.
3.50pm. I have been werking and werking on this purple neon. I cannot tell if it’s heading towards completion, or if it has all been in vain. The harsh fluorescent lighting in here isn’t helping. I’ve taken photo after photo and every one has picked out the Cobalt Blue. To the naked eye it appears far more Cobalt Violet.
It is 4.44pm. I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.
13 May 2009
6 May 2009
White Light
[WEDNESDAY 06 MAY 2009]
Today is all about white neon. I have had interest shown in a painting that has languished in an unfinished state for a number of months. Unfinished because I had not yet decided what colour the neon should be (this because I have not yet successfully painted neon over an existing ground). It sits at the top of the loft hatch, looming over the ladder, a monolithic 118cm x 165cm – A simple , heartfelt declaration: “I THINK OF YOU AND I SMILE”.
All that the potential buyer has seen of it is a view like this:
I have pointed out that it is unfinished, and that I will not be happy letting it go if it doesn’t meet my standards. But maybe I should put pride and artistic temperament aside and let “the customer” decide. It’s not a decision I take lightly – I’m not here for some capitalist joyride, but I do need to pay the rent. And eat.
This is all hypothetical really, because if the damn thing is too big for its prospective home, it will stay here. Still it’s got me fired up to ACTUALLY FINISH a painting, and I’m super keen to depict some serene white neon.
Aside: I neglected to charger Le Pod d’i. We’re running on red, so today I will mostly be listening to 6music. I am saving precious battery power for the dark hours of 10am to 1pm (when G**rg* L*mb and his relentless gooning taints the airwaves).
10.17am: I have been caught up in all this TALK of werk for too long. Time to DO. First, a bit of colour mixing to test which combinations mix with the greatest clarity.
1.30pm: It is DONE. I have been hard at werk filling in neon lettering.
Wildlife watch: I found the remains of a bird’s egg just outside the door. It is sad, but it is a beautiful delicate thing.
A spot of red neon painting, then more white neon. I have a couple of small canvases I started a while ago. This one reads SSSHH.
Today was all about white neon.
Today is all about white neon. I have had interest shown in a painting that has languished in an unfinished state for a number of months. Unfinished because I had not yet decided what colour the neon should be (this because I have not yet successfully painted neon over an existing ground). It sits at the top of the loft hatch, looming over the ladder, a monolithic 118cm x 165cm – A simple , heartfelt declaration: “I THINK OF YOU AND I SMILE”.
All that the potential buyer has seen of it is a view like this:
I have pointed out that it is unfinished, and that I will not be happy letting it go if it doesn’t meet my standards. But maybe I should put pride and artistic temperament aside and let “the customer” decide. It’s not a decision I take lightly – I’m not here for some capitalist joyride, but I do need to pay the rent. And eat.
This is all hypothetical really, because if the damn thing is too big for its prospective home, it will stay here. Still it’s got me fired up to ACTUALLY FINISH a painting, and I’m super keen to depict some serene white neon.
Aside: I neglected to charger Le Pod d’i. We’re running on red, so today I will mostly be listening to 6music. I am saving precious battery power for the dark hours of 10am to 1pm (when G**rg* L*mb and his relentless gooning taints the airwaves).
10.17am: I have been caught up in all this TALK of werk for too long. Time to DO. First, a bit of colour mixing to test which combinations mix with the greatest clarity.
1.30pm: It is DONE. I have been hard at werk filling in neon lettering.
Wildlife watch: I found the remains of a bird’s egg just outside the door. It is sad, but it is a beautiful delicate thing.
A spot of red neon painting, then more white neon. I have a couple of small canvases I started a while ago. This one reads SSSHH.
Today was all about white neon.
2 May 2009
Christmas / Devil in Paradise
On Thursday we finally celebrated our Miss Pain Christmas. A bit late I know, but we've all been too busy with other things to get round to wrapping each other's presents and getting together.
We celebrated at Sarah's and drank red wine and Rumona (a Rum based liquor which we nicknamed Rumbago), she even put up a tree and had crackers!
I made Sarah a Mills & Boon style painting:
Devil in Paradise, 2008, oil on canvas, 50cm x 40cm
We celebrated at Sarah's and drank red wine and Rumona (a Rum based liquor which we nicknamed Rumbago), she even put up a tree and had crackers!
I made Sarah a Mills & Boon style painting:
Devil in Paradise, 2008, oil on canvas, 50cm x 40cm
29 April 2009
HARD ROCK / Pelted with apples
[WEDNESDAY 29 APRIL 2009]
Remember no.1? I am werking on the “rock-face”. I have concluded that it needs more physicality. I am not yet decided whether to go down the karstic limestone route.
10.30am: I just took a break, and spent some time composing a minor-key ditty about being pelted with apples. There is a bridge and a chorus, and a pleasing crescendo. I am yet to come up with some kind of verse.
11.07am: There is still a real chill in the air, despite the glorious sunshine outside. Trying desperately to keep my hands warm, it’s hampering my progress a little. I may have to put the heater on at this rate.
I have taken the “rock-face” as far as I can in one sitting. It already has more presence, but looks too cartoon-y, and not nearly enough HARD ROCK.
What to do next? SPQR: White Light / Purple Neon.
1.30pm: lunch
I’d be lying if I said I only took a short lunch break. And I find it pretty hard to lie to myself. I got sucked in to the internet and the pull of painting was not strong enough to drag me back. Procrastination over and caffeine-d up, I’m back. It is nearly 3 o’clock.
It definitely wasn’t the best idea to drink a big cup of coffee before embarking on some painting that requires a steady hand.
Cobalt Blue and Cobalt Violet: purple glow fades to black...
Remember no.1? I am werking on the “rock-face”. I have concluded that it needs more physicality. I am not yet decided whether to go down the karstic limestone route.
10.30am: I just took a break, and spent some time composing a minor-key ditty about being pelted with apples. There is a bridge and a chorus, and a pleasing crescendo. I am yet to come up with some kind of verse.
11.07am: There is still a real chill in the air, despite the glorious sunshine outside. Trying desperately to keep my hands warm, it’s hampering my progress a little. I may have to put the heater on at this rate.
I have taken the “rock-face” as far as I can in one sitting. It already has more presence, but looks too cartoon-y, and not nearly enough HARD ROCK.
What to do next? SPQR: White Light / Purple Neon.
1.30pm: lunch
I’d be lying if I said I only took a short lunch break. And I find it pretty hard to lie to myself. I got sucked in to the internet and the pull of painting was not strong enough to drag me back. Procrastination over and caffeine-d up, I’m back. It is nearly 3 o’clock.
It definitely wasn’t the best idea to drink a big cup of coffee before embarking on some painting that requires a steady hand.
Cobalt Blue and Cobalt Violet: purple glow fades to black...
22 April 2009
STRAIGHT EDGE
[WEDNESDAY 22 APRIL 2009]
A little touch-up werk to start the day – the kind of thing that needs to be done, even if it does frazzle my nerves and get me all uptight.
What to do next? There are three candidates, which I may take outside to regard in the daylight.
1) could benefit from more werk on the “rockface” – I have a strong urge to make it look like Karstic limestone (an idea that came to me whilst watching an Italian film starring Charlotte Gainsbourg).
2) Needs some compositional changes, one of the three green stripes should be shifted to balance it out.
3) Looks far too graphic at the moment.
I will werk on no.2. I mock up a version in photoshop and play with the composition. And now we werk on the real thing. This calls for the Straight Edge – one of the many tools of the artist.
Here, the artist models the Straight Edge.
It should be stated that the artist is not Straight Edge.
After much consideration I decide there should be an extra stripe on the right, in red. It seems to have taken me 2 hours to make this decision.
It is now 2.33pm. I have done little that could warrant the term “a good morning’s werk”. I am sitting staring into space listening to the soundtrack to my inertia. My feet have got pins and needles.
In a fit of action I sit no.3 on the easel and open a tube of Cadmium Yellow. And I’m just getting into my stride when an inquisitive bee comes in and starts buzzing round a bit too close. I’ll just show him out, then I’ll be back.
I came back, I werked, and now I go home.
A little touch-up werk to start the day – the kind of thing that needs to be done, even if it does frazzle my nerves and get me all uptight.
What to do next? There are three candidates, which I may take outside to regard in the daylight.
1) could benefit from more werk on the “rockface” – I have a strong urge to make it look like Karstic limestone (an idea that came to me whilst watching an Italian film starring Charlotte Gainsbourg).
2) Needs some compositional changes, one of the three green stripes should be shifted to balance it out.
3) Looks far too graphic at the moment.
I will werk on no.2. I mock up a version in photoshop and play with the composition. And now we werk on the real thing. This calls for the Straight Edge – one of the many tools of the artist.
Here, the artist models the Straight Edge.
It should be stated that the artist is not Straight Edge.
After much consideration I decide there should be an extra stripe on the right, in red. It seems to have taken me 2 hours to make this decision.
It is now 2.33pm. I have done little that could warrant the term “a good morning’s werk”. I am sitting staring into space listening to the soundtrack to my inertia. My feet have got pins and needles.
In a fit of action I sit no.3 on the easel and open a tube of Cadmium Yellow. And I’m just getting into my stride when an inquisitive bee comes in and starts buzzing round a bit too close. I’ll just show him out, then I’ll be back.
I came back, I werked, and now I go home.
20 April 2009
Elvis Impersonator, Western Road
Saturday morning, 11am, Western Road, Brighton.
I am walking somewhere with a purpose.
I overhear a little girl quizzically say: "Mummy, look at that man?!"
Her mother responds: "Ooh yes, he looks a bit like Elvis, doesn't he?"
I check myself to make sure I'm not doing an involuntary lipcurl.
I am walking somewhere with a purpose.
I overhear a little girl quizzically say: "Mummy, look at that man?!"
Her mother responds: "Ooh yes, he looks a bit like Elvis, doesn't he?"
I check myself to make sure I'm not doing an involuntary lipcurl.
15 April 2009
Faction not Fiction
[WEDNESDAY 15 APRIL 2009]
Bit of a late arrival this morning, feeling a bit peculiar. Sick to the stomach and unbalanced.
10.22am: I finally, actually pick up a brush, with the intention of actually do some painting.
I bit my tongue last night. Really chomped down on it. And now it’s a nagging pain, adding to my general feeling of unwell-being and hampering the progress of this purple neon.
Werk has progressed, but I feel a break for lunch would be helpful in deciding my next move. A banal fact, but a fact nonetheless, and when inspiration escapes me, I can only report the facts.
Here are some more facts:
Fact: I have been werking away on this purple neon for just over an hour.
Fact: I have no idea if it is going in the right direction
Fact: I have been enjoying just werking intuitively
Fact: I don’t have complete faith in my intuition today
Fact: Errors can always be rectified later
Fact: I am struggling
I have just been doing some ultra-close detail werk, nose to canvas, breathing in the thick smell of paint. My eyes need a break, got to go outside and re-adjust to daylight for a short while.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I’ve made my eyes and brain go fuzzy from werking so close. I think it might be time to go home, before I do some permanent damage.
Bit of a late arrival this morning, feeling a bit peculiar. Sick to the stomach and unbalanced.
10.22am: I finally, actually pick up a brush, with the intention of actually do some painting.
I bit my tongue last night. Really chomped down on it. And now it’s a nagging pain, adding to my general feeling of unwell-being and hampering the progress of this purple neon.
Werk has progressed, but I feel a break for lunch would be helpful in deciding my next move. A banal fact, but a fact nonetheless, and when inspiration escapes me, I can only report the facts.
Here are some more facts:
Fact: I have been werking away on this purple neon for just over an hour.
Fact: I have no idea if it is going in the right direction
Fact: I have been enjoying just werking intuitively
Fact: I don’t have complete faith in my intuition today
Fact: Errors can always be rectified later
Fact: I am struggling
I have just been doing some ultra-close detail werk, nose to canvas, breathing in the thick smell of paint. My eyes need a break, got to go outside and re-adjust to daylight for a short while.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I’ve made my eyes and brain go fuzzy from werking so close. I think it might be time to go home, before I do some permanent damage.
8 April 2009
the masked marauder
[WEDNESDAY 08 APRIL 2009]
Is it really a nine o’clock start if you come out, dump a few things, then go back in to make a cup of tea? Psychologically, I think, it is.
Pod of i observation: This is a bit strange, Yellow Magic Orchestra (from the country Japan), doing an uncanny vocal impersonation of David Sylvian (from the group Japan). The song is called The Cue.
Puerile photo of the day, week, month, year:
In my defence it was a perfectly accidental juxtaposition of a squeeze of Burnt Sienna paint, in a cup of cloudy turps, which happened to be placed on a stool (on which I had childishly scrawled the legend ‘stool’ a few months ago). The whole set up just looked too wrong to keep to myself.
Aaaaaaaaargh! White Spirit fumes headache. Fresh air…
God it still really stinks in here. Its times like this you wish you had some kind of ventilation – a window, an extractor fan, anything to get rid of the heady chemical haze.
I’ve had to put on a mask to stop the fumes getting to me.
The filters have a curious, though not unpleasant, smell, a bit like soup. It has started giving me a headache too. But at least I know I’m not breathing in harmful chemicals that are likely to do very bad things to my insides.
2.40pm: Still working away on that beach and still wearing that mask.
The chemical haze has subsided a bit now. I throw everything I can find at that beach - charcoal, water, chalk dust, paint spatters, more white spirit, more paint, sawdust. Need some sand, but I’m 25 miles from the nearest beach.
Is it really a nine o’clock start if you come out, dump a few things, then go back in to make a cup of tea? Psychologically, I think, it is.
Pod of i observation: This is a bit strange, Yellow Magic Orchestra (from the country Japan), doing an uncanny vocal impersonation of David Sylvian (from the group Japan). The song is called The Cue.
Puerile photo of the day, week, month, year:
In my defence it was a perfectly accidental juxtaposition of a squeeze of Burnt Sienna paint, in a cup of cloudy turps, which happened to be placed on a stool (on which I had childishly scrawled the legend ‘stool’ a few months ago). The whole set up just looked too wrong to keep to myself.
Aaaaaaaaargh! White Spirit fumes headache. Fresh air…
God it still really stinks in here. Its times like this you wish you had some kind of ventilation – a window, an extractor fan, anything to get rid of the heady chemical haze.
I’ve had to put on a mask to stop the fumes getting to me.
The filters have a curious, though not unpleasant, smell, a bit like soup. It has started giving me a headache too. But at least I know I’m not breathing in harmful chemicals that are likely to do very bad things to my insides.
2.40pm: Still working away on that beach and still wearing that mask.
The chemical haze has subsided a bit now. I throw everything I can find at that beach - charcoal, water, chalk dust, paint spatters, more white spirit, more paint, sawdust. Need some sand, but I’m 25 miles from the nearest beach.
1 April 2009
The Fool
[WEDNESDAY 01 APRIL 2009]
I have just dealt with the logistical nightmare of manoeuvring a very big canvas through a slightly smaller hole. I made the canvas to the biggest dimensions that would fit through the loft hatch (165cm x 118cm), and it’s a tight squeeze. I even had to move Jesus to get it through the hole.
I have just dealt with the logistical nightmare of manoeuvring a very big canvas through a slightly smaller hole. I made the canvas to the biggest dimensions that would fit through the loft hatch (165cm x 118cm), and it’s a tight squeeze. I even had to move Jesus to get it through the hole.
I’d taken the canvas out of the loft in the first place in order to get some perspective on what I was painting. It’s one of the pitfalls of working in a space that only has a width of about 2 metres – You can’t get far enough back to have any idea if the composition is working. So, outside it went, installed on a brick wall. I wandered down the garden and advanced from afar.
All seems to be in order, although its monumental scale is diminished slightly by the big outdoors… Drag the seascape/neon combo back up the ladder where it looks vast and foreboding once more.
Ye Gods! Evariste’s disturbing voodoo-psyche chant has just come on. “Connais Tu l’Animal Qui Inventa Le Calcul Integral?” (translation: “Do You Know The Beast Who Discovered The Integral Calculus?”) [listen to it at our L'Amour Electronique blog, and scare yourself silly]
It is 10.55am: Time for a cup of tea. It’s a balmy spring day, but I must get back to work.
You’ll have noticed those two white strips down either side of the canvas – the scars of a deep and untold history. Those scars are now gone, patched up, forgotten, buried under a fresh layer of paint…
And the beach is now obliterated – a mess of dripping oil paint, charcoal and water. Splintered carbon and plaster dust fill the air, the dizzy taste of white spirit at the back of my throat…
Ye Gods! Evariste’s disturbing voodoo-psyche chant has just come on. “Connais Tu l’Animal Qui Inventa Le Calcul Integral?” (translation: “Do You Know The Beast Who Discovered The Integral Calculus?”) [listen to it at our L'Amour Electronique blog, and scare yourself silly]
It is 10.55am: Time for a cup of tea. It’s a balmy spring day, but I must get back to work.
You’ll have noticed those two white strips down either side of the canvas – the scars of a deep and untold history. Those scars are now gone, patched up, forgotten, buried under a fresh layer of paint…
And the beach is now obliterated – a mess of dripping oil paint, charcoal and water. Splintered carbon and plaster dust fill the air, the dizzy taste of white spirit at the back of my throat…
You see what I mean about getting perspective in such a small space? I had to lay down with my head under a table to get this shot.
Time for some fresh air, sunlight and more tea. It is 4.04pm.
Tea break report: There’s an eerie sirocco-like wind blowing up outside; I worked out a pleasing middle-eight for another dirge-like ditty I’ve had hanging round my mind for a few months.
More werk on the beach. I draw the line at painting in every bit of shingle.
FIN
Endnote:
Today was April fools day. Which leads me to ponder: Who is the greater Fool? The Fool, or the fool who reads his musings?
Time for some fresh air, sunlight and more tea. It is 4.04pm.
Tea break report: There’s an eerie sirocco-like wind blowing up outside; I worked out a pleasing middle-eight for another dirge-like ditty I’ve had hanging round my mind for a few months.
More werk on the beach. I draw the line at painting in every bit of shingle.
FIN
Endnote:
Today was April fools day. Which leads me to ponder: Who is the greater Fool? The Fool, or the fool who reads his musings?
30 March 2009
one step behind the zeitgeist
[WEDNESDAY 25 MARCH 2009]
I wasted some time this morning making a secret lo-fi video. That probably sounds more dodgy than it actually was. As you can imagine, my camera work is about as professional as my photography, so the results will undoubtedly be ropey as hell.
It was mainly just some shots of this hole I call a studio, with some deadpan commentary over the top. How’s that for a pitch?
I wasted some time this morning making a secret lo-fi video. That probably sounds more dodgy than it actually was. As you can imagine, my camera work is about as professional as my photography, so the results will undoubtedly be ropey as hell.
It was mainly just some shots of this hole I call a studio, with some deadpan commentary over the top. How’s that for a pitch?
There has been slow progress on this canvas – I’m working on a “lean” layer. This entails quite a bit of delicate brushwork, blending edges to make them glow. It is painstaking, but necessary, work. And it threatens to drive me over the edge.
The high contrast of these stripes is messing with my peripheral vision. Need to keep taking eye breaks or I’ll give myself a migraine. And the turps fumes aren’t helping much either.
The Pod of i has got me painting to MGMT – I fear I’m always one step behind the zeitgeist. It’s good painting music though, so I’ll get back to it.
And relax……………………….. I have completed that arduous “lean” layer with a few last strokes of Permanent Geranium colour. I’ll have a cup of tea to celebrate.
Green neon painting is far more relaxing. Aaah, the psychology of colour.
The Pod of i has got me painting to MGMT – I fear I’m always one step behind the zeitgeist. It’s good painting music though, so I’ll get back to it.
And relax……………………….. I have completed that arduous “lean” layer with a few last strokes of Permanent Geranium colour. I’ll have a cup of tea to celebrate.
Green neon painting is far more relaxing. Aaah, the psychology of colour.
18 March 2009
Spring has Sprung
[WEDNESDAY 18 MARCH 2009]
Spring has sprung. I know this because:
1. It’s a glorious day outside.
2. The birds are chirping up a beautiful cacophony in the garden.
3. I have eschewed the thermals for the first time this year.
Yes it is a glorious day out there, and here I am in my window-less loft, hoping the early chill will soon be displaced by the joys of spring scuttling up the ladder.
On with the show…
[note to self: film the days travails, then speed up the footage. Post it on YouTube. Dispel the myth of the artist, by showing every step of the process. Imagine the viewing figures: Zero.]
On with the show…
As if to perpetuate the overall feeling of goodness, the Pod of i has been selecting some choice music to soundtrack the moment: Bubblegum by Kim Fowley; two Belle & Sebastian songs in a row; Range Life by Pavement; Stereo Total; Dusty singing about The Windmills of Your Mind. It’s all sweet, sweet music to my ears.
In a bid to spoil the party, along comes Mark E. Smith with a curmudgeonly retort to all this gambolling-lamb joie de vivre.
11am: A quick cup of tea and some sunshine to warm me through.
As well as a preoccupation with neon, I must confess to having a deep fascination with rust, mould, decay, and anything that looks distressed. This is probably rooted back in my foundation year, when I spent a lot of time shivering under Worthing pier, sketching and taking photos. I tend to romanticise the fragility of battered and weathered artefacts, and find myself attracted and repulsed by their decomposing patina. Hence I am compelled to take photos of things like this:
Like so:
Spring has sprung. I know this because:
1. It’s a glorious day outside.
2. The birds are chirping up a beautiful cacophony in the garden.
3. I have eschewed the thermals for the first time this year.
Yes it is a glorious day out there, and here I am in my window-less loft, hoping the early chill will soon be displaced by the joys of spring scuttling up the ladder.
On with the show…
[note to self: film the days travails, then speed up the footage. Post it on YouTube. Dispel the myth of the artist, by showing every step of the process. Imagine the viewing figures: Zero.]
On with the show…
As if to perpetuate the overall feeling of goodness, the Pod of i has been selecting some choice music to soundtrack the moment: Bubblegum by Kim Fowley; two Belle & Sebastian songs in a row; Range Life by Pavement; Stereo Total; Dusty singing about The Windmills of Your Mind. It’s all sweet, sweet music to my ears.
In a bid to spoil the party, along comes Mark E. Smith with a curmudgeonly retort to all this gambolling-lamb joie de vivre.
11am: A quick cup of tea and some sunshine to warm me through.
As well as a preoccupation with neon, I must confess to having a deep fascination with rust, mould, decay, and anything that looks distressed. This is probably rooted back in my foundation year, when I spent a lot of time shivering under Worthing pier, sketching and taking photos. I tend to romanticise the fragility of battered and weathered artefacts, and find myself attracted and repulsed by their decomposing patina. Hence I am compelled to take photos of things like this:
This explains why I was in heaven breathing in the lead-fumes and poring over the topography of Kiefer’s monumental canvases and loitering amongst Richard Serra’s lurching slabs of weathered steel on a trip to the Bilbao Guggenheim a year or so ago.
Note to self:
Note to self:
Like so:
16 March 2009
Neon Painting: You Give Me Fever
This is another werk from the first set of neon paintings I produced after picking up the brush again in 2006. It was shown in 2 exhibitions in Brighton and Hove, and someone took a fancy to it on its second showing. It has long been gone to a loving home, leaving only photographs and memories.
Here are some photos taken in-situ, against the [accidentally] kitsch wallpaper that covers the walls in our flat.
You Give Me Fever, 2006, oil on canvas, 80 x 100cm.
Here are some photos taken in-situ, against the [accidentally] kitsch wallpaper that covers the walls in our flat.
You Give Me Fever, 2006, oil on canvas, 80 x 100cm.
13 March 2009
'The Artist' and 'The Process'
[WEDNESDAY 11 MARCH 2009]
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.
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.
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)
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.
Today has been a good day.
4 March 2009
BE BOLD
[WEDNESDAY 04 MARCH 2009]
It’s been a slow, distracted morning – delicately faffing paint over an existing layer. Trying to achieve that luminosity and effervescence that is my goal.
“Be bold!” I tell myself.
“Don’t spoil what you have already laid down.” A nagging little voice whispers.
I have just taken a sip of Herbas de Menorca. It says it is chamomile, but has more of a mellow anis taste to it. It is 12:09pm.
I have eight brushes on the go, 2 palette knives and 4 colours (Emerald Green; Ivory Black; Titanium White; Permanent Geranium). The second canvas of the day is propped on the easel. It is time to be bold…
I can hear mice scuttling around in the insulation space overhead. I’ve begun correcting my spelling and grammar. Get back to work.
I’ve done something… Fuck knows if it’s the right thing. But it is something at least. Now would be a good time to take lunch and take stock.
There’s a wall at the side of the house with an almighty crack running through it. It looks like it might fall down any minute. I take a photo for reference and for prosperity.
I find I have no trouble starting things – not for me the blank-page (canvas) syndrome that holds so many creatives in their tracks. I’ve stepped into the breach 13 times on 13 canvases, and then got lost: Lost in the process; lead down a blind alley only to realise I don’t have the spunk to make my way out the other side.
I can pen bold statements on this here computer – they can all too easily be erased. But the bold painter seems to have deserted me.
Before lunch, I had a sickly urge to take a knife to this canvas. I took it outside, where I spent a lot of time staring daggers at it, a prodigious flow of tourettes-words gushing forth in the daylight. The birds evacuated the garden, the neighbours shut the windows, cute bunnies scuttled down their burrows…
I can see now that the something I did before may not have been quite right. But it was also not wrong.
I should probably werk on something else for a while. Load up the third canvas of the day –SPQR – and open the cobalt violet.
As I paint, I regain composure. Sucking on a Halls clears my head, and I know that this preoccupation with timidly inching forward is a ridiculous way to werk. I know that whatever wrong is done can be rectified later, in fact maybe there is no wrong, and everything is part of the process. I can tell myself that if I do something rash, like scrawling a giant schoolboy prick across months of hard werk, it can be painted over, buried under another few layers of paint. But the problem I have is that this would put me back another few weeks, going over the ground I have spent many hours toiling to create.
It’s a futile business if you look at it like that. So I’ll just get on with it.
It’s been a slow, distracted morning – delicately faffing paint over an existing layer. Trying to achieve that luminosity and effervescence that is my goal.
“Be bold!” I tell myself.
“Don’t spoil what you have already laid down.” A nagging little voice whispers.
I have just taken a sip of Herbas de Menorca. It says it is chamomile, but has more of a mellow anis taste to it. It is 12:09pm.
I have eight brushes on the go, 2 palette knives and 4 colours (Emerald Green; Ivory Black; Titanium White; Permanent Geranium). The second canvas of the day is propped on the easel. It is time to be bold…
I can hear mice scuttling around in the insulation space overhead. I’ve begun correcting my spelling and grammar. Get back to work.
I’ve done something… Fuck knows if it’s the right thing. But it is something at least. Now would be a good time to take lunch and take stock.
There’s a wall at the side of the house with an almighty crack running through it. It looks like it might fall down any minute. I take a photo for reference and for prosperity.
Surveying this loft-cum-studio I can see that I have no less than 13 unfinished paintings (that is, ones where I have actually committed pigment to canvas). It is troubling to me that this scenario has arisen. I don’t think it’s necessarily a lack of will to finish, rather a lacking in confidence to boldly move forward with these things to bring them to a state of completion.
I find I have no trouble starting things – not for me the blank-page (canvas) syndrome that holds so many creatives in their tracks. I’ve stepped into the breach 13 times on 13 canvases, and then got lost: Lost in the process; lead down a blind alley only to realise I don’t have the spunk to make my way out the other side.
I can pen bold statements on this here computer – they can all too easily be erased. But the bold painter seems to have deserted me.
Before lunch, I had a sickly urge to take a knife to this canvas. I took it outside, where I spent a lot of time staring daggers at it, a prodigious flow of tourettes-words gushing forth in the daylight. The birds evacuated the garden, the neighbours shut the windows, cute bunnies scuttled down their burrows…
I can see now that the something I did before may not have been quite right. But it was also not wrong.
I should probably werk on something else for a while. Load up the third canvas of the day –SPQR – and open the cobalt violet.
As I paint, I regain composure. Sucking on a Halls clears my head, and I know that this preoccupation with timidly inching forward is a ridiculous way to werk. I know that whatever wrong is done can be rectified later, in fact maybe there is no wrong, and everything is part of the process. I can tell myself that if I do something rash, like scrawling a giant schoolboy prick across months of hard werk, it can be painted over, buried under another few layers of paint. But the problem I have is that this would put me back another few weeks, going over the ground I have spent many hours toiling to create.
It’s a futile business if you look at it like that. So I’ll just get on with it.
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