Art Diary: Week Ending 13th September

07/09/2014

Sunday and very clement weather. I spent much of the morning and early afternoon in the garden and then my wife and I had a walk with the dog – giving me an opportunity to take more pictures with the proper cameras.

Reflected Clouds, Rooksbury Mill

Reflected Clouds, Rooksbury Mill

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08/09/2014

I didn’t get into my study as early as I would have liked but carried on scanning in early drawings when I finally got there plus more digital art work from the latter part of the afternoon onwards.

Framed Path

Framed Path

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09/09/2014

Practically all day was spent scanning in drawings with a variety of other creative tasks tackled before and after.

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10/09/2014

Out in the morning, plant watering and odd jobs in the middle of the day and general fiddling about on the computers in the afternoon although some of this fiddling about did result in the creation of art work.

Primary Colour Meals

Primary Colour Meals

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11/09/2014

I went early in the morning, coming home in the middle of the day and working on the computers off and on for the rest of the day. Some digital art works created and some photographs edited and titled but not a huge amount.

Four Ways To Tell The Same Story

Four Ways To Tell The Same Story

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12/09/2014

I had to the water the greenhouses (belatedly) and then photographed some watercolour works and several sketch books – all of which were bigger than A4. I still plan to get an A3 scanner before the end of the year and will tackle all my A3 drawings as soon as possible in 2015 (finishing off all the A4 books this year). I also want to go through all my early poetry and prose: most of which was highly experimental and probably of dubious quality.

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13/09/2014

Typical Saturday with odd jobs in house and garden in the morning followed by writing and other work on the computer, then out for a family meal and finally a bit of blogging and sundry other things on the computer in the evening.

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Weekly Diary

07/09/2014

When I went into the lizard lounge dressed as an amphibian (it was uncertain if it was extinct or not) I found June watching the television although it wasn’t actually switched on. She hadn’t gone out hill sitting as planned, having to stay home instead with a lava flow bandage round her wrist where the time would normally be. I proclaimed my satisfaction with an invisible time although still hankering for an invisible space where thoughts float like jellyfish. I went out into the garden wearing a manhole cover as a sun hat to cultivate encroaching shadows and watch the afternoon ebb away. I came in trailing flowers to find June modelling her new range of road signs – I thought the stop one was a bit unflattering and parked a Grumman Intruder fighter bomber on the doormat.

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08/09/2014

June and I march crawled to a medical portal early in the day. We were both dressed like medieval farm workers, although I had hair made from rose petals and she held the last remnants of the sunrise like a shawl around her shoulders. While waiting I talked to a woman who had walked down a very long tunnel (she placed her arm in an electric breadmaker while we talked); she said it was like a church without an altar. I mentioned this to June on the crawl march home. I was still thinking walls made words and wasted time waiting for a sentence to form before collecting a multitude of useless items in an old sheet – when I was a young boy I wrote long words on used bed linen – I wanted them to be even longer but back then I only had a single bed.

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09/09/2014

June spent the morning marking the floor with water; typically I wasn’t quick enough to see what she had made but the turtles mentioned in passing Isis with the infant Horus on her lap. This suggested to me a buzzard flying over an ancient wood and I poured out a hot drink into an egg cup. I was alone in the house all afternoon, imagining walls made from turning propellors above a landing strip floor – personally I wouldn’t take off unless I was using my own wings. I then turned a page and discovered that sound travels a very long way underwater. Several hump backed whales had spoken before June had returned with a map of the Atlantean underground. An unhearing artist knocked on the door much later in the day saying she was trying to sell her work to an unseeing public.

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10/09/2014

June and I took her lava flow wrist to the doctor’s surgery again. The doorway was surrounded by light bulbs, several of which had blown. I went into the auditorium while June went up onto the stage; I pulled two extra pairs of arms from two extra pairs of pockets as she tried to remember her lines. We came home without tablets as the crater was now filled with water and a rising moon – apparently it looks much larger at the moment although I haven’t managed to get a very good photograph – and the ones I did take I scribbled over. We had a quick lunch in three four time and left the house, both dressed in white suits on which were drawn a rough outline of the Martian canals – typically mine were annotated with ideas for a theatrical show with all the actors dressed as white mice.

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11/09/2014

I had to go out very early again (getting up in the dark but going out in the light). I smiled at the owl eyed people before boarding the bus with my bat wings folded up in a carrier bag. As I waited for my connection I held a child’s crayon to the light; it was translucent but I still pretended to make opaque lines in the sky – I knew the departed hadn’t gone there when all my thoughts wore short trousers but I am still hoping there is another space superposed on this one. The grand master of smiles smiled as I entered and after a sequence of long laughs he left; leaving me to tend to the garden which no longer has a view. A garden ornament told me that all existence was just a mathematical formula and he would have been able to work it out if he hadn’t run out of paper.

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12/09/2014

Neither June or I went out all day, save for walking Poppy around a serrated edged piece of paper that only she was allowed to read or write on (she plans to design a galactic mandala and then watch disembodied minds jump through immaterial hoops). The weather was nice for invisible gardeners but we reluctantly chose visibility. June looked at her reflection while cleaning glass and I imagined the view from an entirely different window – or windows: spread out in a line, watching but not seeing until someone was kind enough to stand behind them. In the evening no one knocked on any door although an entirely imaginary character stood at a dead tree base and smiled like a flashing scimitar blade, cutting an apple in someone else’s hand in half – they gave the resulting parts to three people.

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13/09/2014

June went to town counting dolphins as they emerged from the pavement while I watched from the Antarctica in my head, waving at the waves and changing the channels in my mind. I took my grizzly bear avatar for a walk before setting down in a cornfield of words – not all of which were ripe. I had already built a pier at a popular seaside resort for cold blooded animals and caught raindrops in a purple desert with the hope of selling them as the sand dial people walked by with footsteps that sounded like a dying person’s heartbeat. All thoughts stopped in the late afternoon when a returned version of June and I went out to meet Spring blossoms in the Autumn – we talked of the Grand canyon and whether human beings will ever fly with dodo feathers.

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A Much Earlier Weekly Diary

07/09/2007

An unusual day as I was the middle course in a five course meal for the first time. I walked in a circle as I paraded with a team of seaside donkeys. I have now forgotten their names but I remember they were fluent in at least five languages. I came home in time to design a garden for one of the moons of Saturn.

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08/09/2007

My breakfast plate was a building sight as I pushed my spoon among second hand clothes and the fallen pillars of an ancient Greek temple. I had to rush to town to make a neolithic enclosure in the middle of a symphony orchestra, pushing aside the musicians as they attempted to tune up. When I attempted to erect the first round house I heard the opening bars of Walton’s first symphony issuing from my conch shell earrings.

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09/09/2007

I licked the dawn and put it in a stamp album; inviting Bugsy Malone to appear on the cover. My life is a showboat and I had to tie the rigging to the mast before I could go out to trespass in my own garden. Once among the girl tresses I kept my eyes open for voices. I could hear magical children sliding down the cloud sides as I remembered lifting every sheet of metal on the railway line to try and find lizards and snakes.

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10/09/2007

After a morning sleeping on an outstretched birds wing I went to the paper bag palace to roll around in bran sacks; emerging with one eye attached to a periscope I looked over the dentist’s wall and saw the smiling brickwork. During the dream time I had to tie string on a variety of wooden boxes – all of which contained a surprise.

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11/09/2007

I managed to see the fabled white horses today, after years of trying. Like an early explorer I saw big brown birds fly high over the forest – with the trees looking like oversized inverted beards – and I saw the bundles of stones left over from the giants battle. The sailing boats were as small as confetti and I imagined marrying the place. There would be a simple ceremony.

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12/09/2007

I was depressed as the procession of stuffed animals went by. I hitched a lift on the back of a mastodon and rode to the glass houses of town. The building was red hot by the time I got there and I burst into the room wearing a military uniform and holding a set of masks in my briefcase. The sentries kept guard on top of the crenellated walls as I walked home with burning coals in my pocket.

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13/09/2007

I skipped across the stones set on the plastic river bed (we had a large sink but no bathroom when I was a child) to the village long house. Once there I unwrapped myself, disentangled the laurel leaves from the live electric cables and went in search of the windows the old ladies looked out of. I went home carrying a bust of Voltaire.

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Art Diary: Week Ending 6th September

31/08/2014

The weather was nice but I still worked indoors for much of the morning, partly on onerous domestic tasks and partly fiddling around on the computers. I then had an hour or two of gardening before my wife and I went out for a walk. We came home to find the turtle pump was leaking so I had to spend time fiddling with this rather than being creative. A small amount of blogging was done in the evening.

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01/09/2014

Domestic and computer random jobs in the morning followed my writing and the scanning in of approximately another hundred and forty drawings. Blogging in the evening plus the continuing battle with the faulty turtle tank pump.

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02/09/2014

A frustrating day as after going to town myself to do all the heavy shopping I had to go down again as my wife (who shops when she doesn’t really have to) had forgotten her card. This plus two visitors – poetic license as it was actually the same visitor twice! – meant that not a great deal of work was done.

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03/09/2014

I spent practically all day writing – progress was not especially rapid.

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04/09/2014

I was out all morning and then my wife and I had to take the dog to the vets. In between and after I did more computer art work although needless to say not a huge amount. A large number of smart phone photographs taken while I was out however.

The Path

The Path

Perseus And Medusa

Perseus And Medusa

Man On The Edge

Man On The Edge

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05/09/2014

I had to go out again although I finally managed to scan another set of drawings. As I had various other commitments I decided not to do anymore even though there are masses to do – this project will probably run into next year although hopefully I can also manage to get a reasonable amount of new work done as well.

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06/09/2014

My wife and I went out; that more or less sums up the day as I did very little creative work on my return.

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Weekly Diary

31/08/2014

I got up quickly after unexpectedly pulling a full deck of cards from my navel; I nonchalantly shuffled them as I walked downstairs thinking of man stuck on a waterwheel and getting wet on a regular basis – I concluded I wouldn’t want to do anything on a regular basis and then took a deep breath. The hermit crab that haunts the house in lieu of a ghost was sat in the chair immediately opposite the door and stared at me intently. I thought this was rude even if I was holding a picture of a naked horse with a clothed Lady Godiva. June went out early to stand among walking crowds and I went to work in the garden (the hippopotami in my imagination fighting like old currency). Nothing much had been accomplished when June came home holding containers of cold water which had once been hot.

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01/09/2014

I queued with myself outside the bathroom thinking of all the things I have to do this week. June wanted to buy an iceberg even though she knew I wanted to buy a ship. She went out wrapped in a liana which was previously rejected by Tarzan – he used a retractable ladder instead. I walked the dog using old books for shoes; the one on my left foot, which incidentally is larger than my right, was still unread. I was marshalling goods trains in muddy puddles when June came back with countryside highlights in her urban hair. After a linear lunch I went out with Poppy (who had been rehearsing for a part in Shakespeare’s Henry Four And A Half); following main roads to side roads and side roads to rough patches of ground where I promised to found a city in honour of glowworm brides.

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02/09/2014

The man with pulled teeth for clothes turned off the lights in the broad daylight. He walked several feet above the ground and the shadow of the dog passed by underneath (she absentmindedly turned the page of the music score she was listening to). I had already gone out without a shopping list and now June went out without any money. We had to meet in town to reconcile these differences; me with an empty aquarium for a head and her with a mind full of fish. When I got home the tooth man returned with an ache. The ache, which resembled the Horsehead Nebula, mended the electric socket above the gas cooker (we call the cooker Williamina) and then tried to get to the first floor without using the stairs. I imagined a swarm of small boxes with wings in someone else’s head but not my own.

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03/09/2014

I spoke to the cobweb lady, who was packing a bag in the space between my imagination and the real world – I have given the space a boy’s name even though it is probably female. After some time in a tunnel without a clear entrance or exit I talked to the spider lady again – this time she was unpacking her bag (we agreed to call it Nigel). To avoid what was left of the sun I made an avenue with my fingers only to be surprised when I caught someone walking down it. They were idly scattering words that someone else would have to sweep up – I told them it wouldn’t be me and turned my inside out hand into a church for nonbelievers – they had been told they face a mechanical oblivion which I hope myself to miss: in the latticework distance tree branches seemed to catch people like flies.

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04/09/2014

I had a very early start: pulling back the blue/black sky to reveal the day still asleep with dreams of yesterday (June called the sky curtains and the ventriloquist’s dummy, who still engages us in conversation even though the ventriloquist is gone, called them an opening to the soul). I rode out among the herds of mechanical horses, pulling strands of colour out of an otherwise grey sky. I met the old man as an incandescent light in the middle of a fog and we exchanged the information of lighthouses, pulling pieces of paper from our hair as we did so – I noticed that more of his paper pieces had been written on and resolved to get a new pencil. I came home astride a mechanical ostrich and holding a haversack full of sand.

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05/09/2014

I woke with black and white stripes and walked down the zebra crossing stairs with a row of stopped cars in my head. June was still asleep in a motorcycle sidecar with a winged horse on her chest. I would have called my breakfast Bellerophon if it hadn’t already called me washing up. The man in the shadows (I knew neither him or the shadows) had a guitar for a head and strummed a chord – I thought it was a seventh but he said it was a sixth and a half. While the cloud people cavorted overhead I poured water like scorn and watched a very large bird slowly ascend higher in the sky – the child in me imagined it going right through the surface of a second ocean and then up into a second sky (the adult who is not quite in me wondered how long this process could be continued).

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06/09/2014

The little hunchback chimed the bell in my head, simultaneously waking me up and putting me to sleep. June was dancing with a goat when I walked down the hall trailing an arm that I had found still clinging to the net curtain. As usual we went out in the morning; she had her hair arranged into a Portuguese man of war sail and mine into a wheat field just after the harvest – harvest was early this year and I caught myself thinking that old age was a precursor for youth and cause always follows effect. As I thought this a group of space age Vikings walked through the shopping centre: apparently they were still looking for their ship. The sails on their heads startled a group of pigeons by the entrance and they all stopped to watch me lift one leg off the ground as a sea eagle landed on it.

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A Much Earlier Weekly Diary

31/08/2007
I parachuted quite early out of our bedroom window, writing my memoirs as I floated slowly to the ground. When I had the mandatory trip round the garden riding in a fluffy cat chariot I dreamed I was living in a cake, trying desperately to rise up through the icing. NB. I had to go out twice during the day, carrying a lighted candle each time.

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01/09/2007
I woke with both a start and a finish; it felt like a village, circa late Eighteen hundreds, was entangled in the wig I put on my head to keep the bed warm. I had to go to the over water Town by dog sled, remembering the death of the old fireman as I did so. I subsequently talked of birthday suits painted blue with lipstick smiling manakins and came home pulled by a team of pygmy hippos.

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02/09/2007
I only spent a few hours modelling natives for a Rousseau jungle scene before coming into the ice mansion to stir the radiators and stoke the fires. I studied the wink in the single eye set in the ancient walls of the only place I feel safe in. The armorial assemblages clanked and the stuffed jellyfishes in the serried rows of glass cases busied themselves inventing an entirely new language. I saw the plumber and he promised to call eventually.

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03/09/2007
I flew to the well known mole on the back of a woman laying in the cloud shine. Stopping only to frame the butterfly wings I used for the journey, I immediately acted as an usher at the wake of one of the players in the local Ragnarok football team. I had forgotten my dinner so I flew home by space rocket, holding tightly to the grey tabby cat I had used as an interpreter.

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04/09/2007
I had time to sun myself at the desert in the middle of an oasis, chatting as I did so about long lengths of pink ribbon. An aeroplane took off in the middle of the conversation and I went and made myself a cup of tea in a cup perched on top of a tortoise. I then felt the need to make some new clothes by sewing together lettuce leaves and partially chewed wooden planks from a full size mock up of a Viking long boat.

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05/09/2007
I was out on the plain of long dead ancestors early in the day; the sun was a partially eaten sandwich. I worked in the foyer of the Tower of Babylon until lunch time when I went home to whittle wood until the werewolves knocked on the door in the evening. I was then the wolfman and went to the nearest Masonic lodge to learn line dancing.

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06/09/2007
Out in the land of echoes until the apples parachuted from the tree and the twins had made their promise. I had to scuttle home like a formation of Roman soldiers; bursting through the door of the crusade recruitment office holding a bag of bananas. After my term in office I retired to the road where I live so I could sweep the step.

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Art Diary: Week Ending 30th August

24/08/2014

I spent the morning in the garden but hadn’t completed all I wanted to do when my wife and I decided to go out for a walk – unlike last week I didn’t take any of my proper cameras, although I took quite a few photos with my smart phone.

IMG-20140824-08403

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25/08/2014

As forecast it poured with rain for most of the day. I had planned to catch up on my writing and made a start early in the day but somehow ended up doing a lot of more domestically orientated things with just a bit of photograph editing and computer art in the afternoon which partially saved the day. The barest minimum of blogging in the evening.

Bird In A Tree

Bird In A Tree

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26/08/2014

Unusually for me I didn’t feel very well (I even dreamed of me being ill!) and spent much of the day catching up on my writing – doing what I should have done yesterday which itself was what I should have done at the end of last week. With a bit of computer art thrown in for good measure.

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27/08/2014

I went out briefly in the morning and then came home to scan more pencil and mixed media drawings into the computer. I did a little computer art immediately after this and blogging or various other computer jobs in the evening.

The Theatre Inside My Head

The Theatre Inside My Head

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28/08/2014

I was out in the morning and spent most of the afternoon scanning in early (circa 1978/1979) drawings with only a couple of quick digital art works done at the end of the afternoon. The usual blogging in the evening.

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29/08/2014

I got a further four sketchbooks of drawings scanned into the computer. I may have mentioned this before but the books rarely contain sketches but rather finished pencil or coloured pencil/crayon/oil pastel artworks, albeit usually fairly spontaneous ones.

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30/08/2014

Very little gardening (although I often don’t do much on a Saturday) and very little creative work done either as my wife and I went out for much of the day.

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