Text now written, I must plan the layout and then the images have to be drawn.
I am able to work again, at long last. It's been weeks. The Leamington mosaic is done, very pretty it is too, and now onto the drawings.
A civilised bunch up in Leamington, a bit quiet though. I was driven around by a very lovely cabbie, friendly, it made my stay easier. I hate leaving London.
Raucous, fun and racy, and as long as I keep an eye on work, all is well. It's a choice between London life, or as Ernest Hemingway said, the life of "wide lawns and narrow minds".
My brains are fried. Still. It's taking a very long time.
I am using ceramics as an extension of my sketchbook. 3D ideas are made/thought with my hands and this work serves to free up my mind for the graphic novel. It's liberating, playful and stops my head 'clogging up' with the stress of working to such a tight deadline.
Off I trotted to the Freud Museum to listen to the talk. To my dismay the whole paper was read out, in full. When I run residencies I know which kid is likely to be super creative by the way they walk through a door, they bounce in, they are disruptive, they can't sit still, they are louder than the rest, they do a drawing, it's always fantastic, then they bounce off as if I never existed.
Many 'creatives' have an element of that and find it difficult to sit still, but we just have an amplified reaction to a problem that anyone would have. Listening to a flat delivery of a dense piece of research is uninteresting.
A lack of a liberal education is frightening and it's repercussions on society immense. I wonder whether I can weed them out early in future by simply asking if they believe in God?
I must start the poppy mural tomorrow. Death. I can feel it everywhere today.
Cooking, a term used by an old tutor at Art School. The time when an artist looks like they are doing nothing bar making cups of coffee and tidying up, but there's something quietly cooking in their hearts and minds. It's different to the emptiness, that can stretch for months, called 'a block', that's terrifying and painful.
What should I do to prepare? Shall I work from my pretty room, under the trees, with my cafetiere and little cat for company or should I go out into the world where at least I shall meet people? But the world is too loud for me.
“The canary bird in the coal mine theory of the arts: artists should be treasured as alarm systems.”
My blog, a thought or two