Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Sunday, 8 November 2009
It's not a bad day so I can finish the yellow line painting and put the fag ends in.
So I do.
Being as it's a back alley by the studios where people come for a cigarette, not much happens.
Later in the studios I get carried away and write on it small at first and then bigger. It's taking a while, but I think I'm finally starting to loosen up with the words thing, although I guess they could still me more readable. To make up for the lack of action I am including 3 (yes 3! count them) photos of the same painting.
Also in the studios I go to the loo, because of course this is real life and that's what people do. In the movie of my life I think there will be lots of going to the loo - at least every other scene. And when anyone goes out someone will say, 'does anyone need the loo before we go?' and someone will and they'll go. And farting. In the movie of my life there will be lots of farting. Not necessarily always me.
Anyway, where was I? Going to the loo at the studios. So there I am, in the loo that I've been going in for 5 years, but this time it's different. This time there's a smell. Not a bad smell, but one of those smells that evokes a really strong memory and I'm six or seven years old again and I'm in the cloakroom at my Gran's house. It's a big downstairs loo and I'm lost in the mass of coats that hang on the wall. It's a little bit scary (still me as a 6/7 year old), but kind of comforting at the same time. I love it when that happens - transported by a smell.
Talking of being young, I was reminded the other day that I had never ever in my life eaten a toffee apple. It went straight on to the list of things I have to do before I die and so I ate one and hated it and can't think why anyone would do that to an apple.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
I end up at the studios playing about with last weeks painting of the railway bridge. It wasn't much to write home about anyway, so it won't be a problem if I mess it up. I try a different way of achieving a similar effect on the edges that involves layers of paint and then drawing into the paint with the pencil. It sort of works and it sort of doesn't, but I like the feel of the pencil lines better - they become more integral to the painting. I also break up the words I wrote on it last week and scatter them about the picture. Hmm.
Later and I get inspired by a yellow line and a bunch of fag ends (fag ends to come). I keep going until it gets too dark. Ray's grinding a bit of stone down by the garages, annoying the neighbours. A horse goes past on the main road. The fire alarm goes off (I'm already outside, so I can just keep painting). I make a note of the noises, as I might write the sound effects on later.
I'm walking to the studios and I know it's not going to go to plan when walking under a tree laden with berries, one of them gets caught by a gust of wind and falls on me. It finds the slightest of openings around my collar and it's straight down the shirt. Oh yes - now that is a sign. Doomed I say, DOOOOMED. After putting everything down and untucking and jiggling (next to the busy road) out pops the berry and I move on.
Aha, there it is, just ahead - the sainsbury's petrol station sign. Just as I left it last week. Now we're talking. (Exciting compositions - that's what we're talking.)
I set up across the way so I can see the sign across the busy (busiest in bath, according to an in depth study conducted by me just now) junction. There's a little patch of grass covered in leaves, which I try to avoid as you can bet your bottom there's a pooh lurking under there somewhere.
So there I am, all set up, looking to paint the sainsbury's petrol station sign, when whammo, the curse of the berry strikes and my paint medium disappears. Totally disappeared as if I forgot to put it in the easel, which is inconceivable. Damn that berry.
Ignominiously I pack everything up and slink off to the studios. The petrol station sign will have to wait for another week. (I'm pretty sure it's waited its whole life to be painted, so what's another week?)
Back at the studio, I did mean to put in the fag ends, but the lines take longer than I thought they would. Lines, Ben? What lines? Well, these lines of course ...
P.S. The left handed line drawings still aren't showing much sign of improvement. Damn, but I'm looking miserable.