Thursday 14 March 2024

14 03 2024


 a shoal of palette knives... these plundered from Patricia Malfis studio. You never forget another artist when you use their tools. I still use a couple of splendid large bristle brushes that belonged to Edward Seago, given to me by his partner after his death. 

Was about to list others and realise I'm in danger of becoming a death cult.

Studio work continues, bafflingly daft. 

Monday 11 March 2024

11 03 2024

 Shopping morning... then working in studio, so good though still clearing as I go. Just an extra layer of chaos. I like chaos.

Saturday 9 March 2024

09 03 2024

Finally, really, truthfully finished; the flags of warring nations conclude it. What a palaver!

And this too - filled a too-big gap with the words from Isaiah, in French.

Tiding as I go. Relieved that Bob will be back tomorrow, he can manage all the stuff I can't, poor chap.

Despite a sense of anaemia - intellectual bloodlessness, what's that called? -  lots of ideas.
 

Friday 8 March 2024

08 03 2024


dinky little pix from yesterday, sitting in the sunshine under the tour magdela in Rennes le Chateau.
After being woken by the dream of the helicopter burning out after Id left it tied to the top of a tower/ cupola, seemed appropriate. 

Just been to the denuding of Patricia Malfi's studio. Her husband has decided its time to sell so contents can be distributed among artists. Grave robbing. Took her palette knives, loads of tissue paper (really hard to get in France), some oil pastels. Hey ho, they'll be trying to clear mine out soon enough. 
 

Wednesday 6 March 2024

07 03 2024

 Still no product - maybe I've retired - still not sorted the studio.

Woken by the dream, the burnt out helicopter on the roof.

Sunday 3 March 2024

03 02 2024

 Masses of rather nice prints and gouaches emerged, pretty in some cases and in some cases inks on top of etchings, terribly pretty. Not ready to chuck them. will order some portfolios on line, maybe they exist - the ones I've made in the past and that these things were stored in are sort of crunchy, since I would cut up boxes and glue fabric over them. Not a long-lasting thang. And I don't like them.

It seems of one my asthma drugs, one that works well for me, promotes mood swings, psychotic episodes and suicides. I asked Ian how one might know if one were psychotic and he said, by the trail of bodies...

Miserable day and I just got soaked. Time for a hot bath and a chance to read Ruth Brandons Surreal Lives. Enjoyed it so far, well put together IMHO


among many large drawings is this one of the view from the third window of the Woolwich studio. Painstaking; evocative. 


Friday 1 March 2024

02 03 2024

 

Louix Maunder RIP...

Here's Louix from her performance days ('96 at Fordham Park)  She packed in a lot when she was young - which is as well as she was only 54 when she died, at 20.45 on Wednesday 28th Feb. 

She'd done some crowdfunding and had enough money to do a few months of touring before the predicted end, but the cancers were too advanced. The plan had been to get here again which would have been just great... but alas.

Our friendship began when we had a shared lover - and turned into a joyful, hysterical, BF -type thing until I moved to France. She came here once and I went to her sea-side retreat once but by then I was somewhat infirm and travel was expensive and hard for us both. We kept in sporadic touch.

Dear Louix was not ready to die. Her daughter had decided it was time to have a child and she wanted to share that with her. Plus, 54... no age really. Ive spent the last few days mourning. 


Slowly shifting stuff in the studio. Been binning drawings and prints unless they are portraits.


rather an odd picture of David Walser... and again

Here's Jan 

and Bernard, working in the studio -
a souvenir of my first major incursion to the monetization of art -
Shedloads still to shift. Depressing isn't le mot juste.