Sunday 29 September 2019

30 09 2019

Not a foot did I set in the studio yesterday, except to collect my drawing knapsack. Which I put on my back and took for a very long walk. No drawing at all - too hot, too uncomfortable, too uninteresting. Not true, of course - there are various bits I regret not confronting - but the world does not need more drawings.
Going to buy some new canvases tomorrow. Yeah, right.

Saturday 28 September 2019

28 09 2019

 Done, done, done. One nearly also done. Anthropomorphism continues to rule.

Friday 27 September 2019

27 09 2019

Good days pottering yesterday - knocking the studio back into shape to get ready to trash previous work. I'm not going to give myself grief.

Thursday 26 September 2019

26 09 2019

Home again, home again... great meet with the Walthamstow chap, Malcolm, with whom I am very happy to work. He took me over my old college which has been trashed beyond belief - 'remodelled' - to the point of unrecognisability. It's now a 6th form college. The art school was closed as its teaching methods were 'ad hoc'. Indeed, it was. Felt a surprising affection for the place as memories tumbled in.
The Kings conference, CyberSoc, was a laid back way. Raul was there and we were able to talk about my presence as artist in residence in Russia next year. Need to consider an on-line art-gesture of some sort for it, I think. I'm certainly not about to repeat what I did in Rome.

Saw very little art - a dash though the National to use the toilets :)

The stuff awaiting me on the easel is abysmal but some of the ink drawings are OK.

Wednesday 18 September 2019

19 09 2019

Emily Carr book driving me mad. She says stuff and I dunno. Its like reading my own diaries except she has 4 dogs, a monkey and a rat instead of 4 parrots, a tortoise and 2 hens. Her morose husband is called Henry.
Determined not to take it to England with me - I go this afternoon - its such a wind up ( Oh caravans!! Bloody hell)
So, CyberSoc, the Serpentine, Waltham Forest and a visit to a brother beckon.

Tuesday 17 September 2019

18 09 2019

Been ink drawing - first up the hill, which I found I could climb quite easily. Once the road rises above a particular level it seems to be easier, whether the body is used to it or the air is better I can't tell. Difficult though as there isn't a good work space - I was balancing me and the work on the bench there, didn't really work.
 In the afternoon - had to wait in till 3.00 when the gas service man eventually turned up (at least this time he DID turn up) and by then having missed siesta - only went to the river bank, by where there are picnic tables. The parking by the river packed with caravans.
Quite happy in my corner, watching and drawing caravans through trees, when one arrived and pulled up  by me. It was a signal of some sort - they started flocking in. The overflow space where I was started to fill up - at first it was rather jolly, I was thinking it might all be fun to meet new people every night, very carnival atmosphere - then they started to approach me. At first for a match for a cigarette and then... and very soon the air was full of smoke and dust from the caravan wheels and the gypsy in me turned into a fascist and I left.
Results predictably poor.

17 09 2019

Drawing yesterday; restricting myself to ink which is easier than struggling with colour and requires less concentration. Woke this morning and saw immediately what was wrong with the painting on the easel, how can I be so blind?

Despite the sunburn and the little flying beasties, planning on more of the same today.

The trick is to find somewhere private and I've done that - now to decide if that's it or to find somewhere else. (This was the lay-by over the damn, it's never used as it's quite hidden from the road. Has tables and chairs. Downside is the noise from the road. Upside is small scented flower and great views.)

Saturday 14 September 2019

14 09 2019

Finished one of the dead flowers and the second (large) is en route. Two little ones will do for firelighters.
Oh but who knew the Waltham Forest Borough in London is Borough of Culture? Certainly not me. One of the art schools I attended is in their purlieu and I'm to meet them next week.

Friday 13 September 2019

13 09 2019

I dunno... but the text inclusion helps.

Thursday 12 September 2019

12 09 2019

Ploughing on. Didnt (yet) bin dying sunflowers. They begin to look respectable. Bah.

Wednesday 11 September 2019

111 09 2019

Decent day yesterday, the first for ??? feels like years. Painting still no good but the process is in me now. Though for how long, I dunno... managed to frame this sketch of Stan that I stumbled across looking for something else.
Remember doing it. Thought he looked too troglodyte and did another version, bigger with a larger lower body.   May have binned that one. haven't found it though found some others. What was I doing, drawing Stan all the time?
In retrospect think this version is OK. It has a deal of him about it. The charcoal sits prettily on the canvas paper (bought cheap, used whenever possible) Wish I'd included a cello or at the least the stick thing you play a cello with. 
Of course, this was all done at the time I painted the naked cellist, its coming back to me - they were a part of the studies for that picture. Which puts this around ten years ago, when Debs was alive and causing trouble - and dear Stan wasn't dead. Hey ho; he led an eventful life.

Tuesday 10 September 2019

10 09 2019

Evasion continues though feeling more energized today. Found a missing painting, the one that is in the catalogue for the Magrie show this year. Had lost it. Eventually went through stock in garage, stock that has found its way to archive room, stock lying around studio. Then started again and it was in the store in garage, stacked with others the same size. Since I couldn't remember what size it was... anyway, that's a day lost.
The Magrie paintings now together.
(= Terre Mere, the newly discovered one; the 4 riders of the apocalypse; four emerging flower paintings; 2 dead flowers) Want to dig out a load of drawings as well, either for a browser or to clip to walls.
All this led to many reflections on painting, purpose of, and my life, ditto.
However I ate a hearty meal and slept well so back to action today:)
Here's a photo of a doorway in the studio.

Sunday 8 September 2019

08 09 2019

mostly evasion.
Some things come home to roost; found Stans portrait though not the one I wanted, it'll do. Found some of the tricks Id been searching for for the new garden gate, now have to install though the weathers a bit iffy.
Putting off deciding whether to scrape off and junk the last four pix, or not.

Friday 6 September 2019

06 09 2019

...copied Banksy notes, searched for the drawings for the portrait of Stan (RIP); stared into space a lot.
More paint applied.
Bob away so have a clear stretch which so far I've filled with housework and animal management.
Not had alcohol or coffee for almost 2 weeks now and feel very physically altered in ways both big and small. Miss coffee dreadfully.

Thursday 5 September 2019

05 09 2019

Grafting away - not getting anywhere but covering the canvas which is the only way to get somewhere, I suppose.

Tuesday 3 September 2019

03 09 2019

sold these three yesterday - mostly painted 12 years ago - going through stock, cleaning and varnishing took the morning.  Will be paid when I deliver them.

Today would be going well, I'm a little clearer about what I'm doing (perusing the unacceptable, the silly, the whimsical etc) but interruptions (friend returned a loan, hurrah, took possession, went to bank) and now I'm writing this. Au boulot!

Sunday 1 September 2019

02 09 2019

 Dead flower stuff crossing over with the flower fairies of youth... not sure what direction these are going in but alarming that dead flowers continue to die, they aren't static, things change even when I don't expect them to.

Been reading the journals of Emily Carr whose work I've never much liked, too mannered for me - got dragged to her show in Dulwich and liked her even less though one or two were almost to my taste - was given the journals by a fan. The bloody woman sounds just like me! She moans and compares and contrasts and despairs AND she has nose-bleeds AND she reads Ouspenski...  hundred years ago and nothing changes. Doubt that I'II be able to finish the book as I keep throwing it across the room.