Art Diary: Week Ending 27th December

21/12/2014

I planned to go out into the garden but went out with my wife instead (Christmas shopping and a meal). I worked on the computer on my return home so the garden is looking progressively more unkept and the plants in the greenhouses progressively more unloved.

Are There Other Worlds?

Are There Other Worlds?

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22/12/2014

Odd jobs in the morning (mostly involving water!) and then writing and a little computer painting in the afternoon. I probably wont continue my diaries into the new year as it leaves me no time for other writing and also writing every day of every week (or at least trying to) is at best a little onerous and can prove very problematic if something else crops up like a two month long illness!

Heavy Water

Heavy Water

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23/12/2014

Not a brilliantly productive day although I did spent quite a bit of it painting on the computer.

Horizon Activity - Study 1

Horizon Activity – Study 1

Horizon Activity - Study 2

Horizon Activity – Study 2

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24/12/2014

I was out most of the morning and then spent the afternoon writing Christmas messages. Not much creative work done.

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25/12/2014

Obviously a family day today although I did do quite a bit of painting on one of my tablets when the rest of the family were watching inane programs on the television.

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26/12/2014

We were supposed to go out for another day with the family but my wife was ill so we had to stay home. I did a bit of writing and digital painting.

The Reverie Of A Dried Up River God

The Reverie Of A Dried Up River God

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27/12/2014

Too cold for gardening, although I did a bit, so spent much of my time working on the computers.

As an unconnected aside I may have a found a false black widow spider indoors; I picked it up and put it in my studio as I wasn’t sure how aggressive they where at the time (apparently they are not aggressive at all) so wasn’t sure if I would have made it to one of the greenhouses without getting bitten. Obviously killing it was not an option.

Path In A Wood

Path In A Wood

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A Much Earlier Weekly Diary

21/12/2007

I was out as early as possible from the hover house overlooking the boat yard – this is where the seventeen children I once was grew fruit and then secretly ate them. I went out in desert clothes and was surprised when I came back with bits of the tropical rain forest attached to my overalls. With these same clothes I went to the factory in search of a chimney to smoke.

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22/12/2007

I went to see Father Christmas. I rose early with dove wings and visions of snow hopping kangaroos. However, it was mid morning before I managed to undo the chains from the rock I was shackled to. I then took the long journey where old trees fell to the dead house gardens where my wife and I had long past. I dug up as many memories as possible.

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23/12/2007

June discovered that she had broken her hand. We were both standing in bags of wet cement at the time. I had to pull a fish out of my pocket and make a phone call. It was a quiet day with the flags on the roof bringing up a family of refugees and the cardboard version of me surreptitiously making notes on a piece of paper in his pocket.

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24/12/2007

I climbed out of the tree house lavatory holding my tummy. It took three trips to town to fully reconcile all the differences between the various clans who purportedly live in sundry items of flat pack furniture in our bedroom. After swimming forty lengths in a cup of tea I went to join the congregation where little Emily kindly gave me a bottle for her portrait.

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25/12/2007

I woke bereft of visiting Magi but saw instead a Walt Disney silhouette of June as she rubbed two sticks together to turn on the television. After an Italian dinner the family settled down to pulling magic tricks out of pieces of anaconda strewn across the floor. I studied the tracks left by a party of marauding red Indians while the others gleefully buttered a monopoly board.

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26/12/2007

Another day away from home – we had to trek across the plastic land where plastic people lay with arms outstretched in a perpetual embrace – we then played with the baby and ate miscellaneous parts from a model kit. I dreamed of raising the dead while television screens duelled at a multitude of false dawns. I was worried by the amount of weight Poppy has gained.

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27/12/2007

I started the day by raising my arm like the dead warrior in Guernica. I then dressed myself in chocolate wrappers and squeezed between chinks in the wall. I tried to get back into my studio (which had been vacationing in the South of France) but the clock didn’t like it. At the end of the day my dinner was delivered by Viking longboat.

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Weekly Diary

21/12/2014

I went to town instead of tending to the once magical garden (all the garden statues were as silent as a pair of gunfighters). June and I took the mule trail to town, stopping off for a meal at a meeting place for ice children. I walked home on toy car paving slabs while June went even further into bowels of the shopping centre monster: a pretend princess wearing a thin blue dress looked as cold as the season as she bent down to talk to the young children at her feet. I got home to find a serpent wrapped round the house and then worked alone indoors as it searched for its own tail. It had been replaced by ordinary urban myths by the time June had returned with shopping bags full of mainly of dark matter – I replaced the science with fairy tales and then made her a coffee in a quantum mechanical cup.

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22/12/2014

I pulled myself up onto an ice cold tropical beach and played playing card snap with green turtles as June took a walk along the yellow ribbon of road to town (the buildings on the left side of the street were smiling and the ones on the right were not – a secret having not been shared). I rescued myself from the desert island in the unzipped middle of the day and then climbed the reptile scale stairs to work in a bomb gutted cathedral of silence. June rung sometime later with a voice that sounded like the national anthem of an island soon to be submerged by a globally warmed sea. I went out to help her wade ashore; her cruise liner hat tilted at a strange iceberg angle. Once home she emptied her shopping bags like water filled boots onto the desert dry living room carpet.

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23/12/2014

June left the house just after the portcullis had been raised; the water guards having moved from a glass to a very large cup. I stayed home listening to the mermaid orchestra and arranging the letters of the alphabet into a completely different sequence; tellingly it still spelt the same words. The lady down the road had flowers for eyes as I felt the weather change. Her husband was playing the accordion in a tub of water as I greeted him with a nautilus message; he replied with ammonites as I shut the Cretaceous door in my own face. It was raining candles as I walked up the dark in daylight road; I lit some as I ambled by, one side of my face painted black and the other white. I found June inside talking to a magpie.

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24/12/2014

I got up early and walked out though the alligator snapping turtle portal leaving June as one more signature on a heavily signed piece of paper. I signed a road sign which was spinning like a top and then got a lift on a double decker flying fish. I met the grand piano man after studying a map written on the head of a small man at the jellyfish stop – I observed that his bag was bigger than he was even though it was empty (perhaps we are all empty). I talked about the movement of clockwork grand inquisitors and then battery powered saints before plugging myself into the mains and lighting up my ear lobes in a multitude of colours. June was stuck in the cutlery drawer when I got home but I counted the number of white mice in my superman cup before getting her out.

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25/12/2014

June and I woke in a swarm of locusts; all were searching for the television remote so they could change channels. I had already dreamt of a thousand iron bolts looking for a nut and only finding the hole in the ground where Saint Paul was cast down. I gave June a photograph of an asteroid in its orbit between Mars and Saturn and we then went out to a Borneo long house for dinner; this was despite her having had fish gills appear in the middle of the night – she later developed the beginnings of a fin along her dorsal line. We had a meal on the side of a ship as it capsized in a warm sea and then a slow drink on the fast lane of a motorway; both of us wearing aeroplane wings with images from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel emblazoned on both surfaces.

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26/12/2014

June was feeling very ill and we found ourselves trapped in ice. She was wearing a modern housing estate (complete with cycle way and children’s play area) and I was wearing a bikini last worn by an exotic dancer in a night club for gorillas. The rest of the family took the fiery serpent route to the coast where a sailor stood at the top of the stairs casting water down on the ships below. The children went out carrying laughter (I am told) with their other voices kept with their recently opened presents. I meanwhile turned the heating up as June stayed in the surf bed waiting for the tide to go out and then come in again. A doctor arrived with her eyes in a bag and gave June some lighted windows from a deserted city at night – both of us thought we could hear traffic noises.

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27/12/2014

June laid in a cocoon that a biplane from between the world wars had quite recently flown out of. Just before this she had spent some time as an oak beam in a Tudor hayloft and immediately before this as part of the pattern in an Axminster carpet. I had been resting in a flower vase along with a couple of bright red daffodils (everything is out of their UFO seasons). While June settled down into the horse mushroom foam I went out pointing a corkscrew at the sky; it started to rain as I came home with snow in one shopping bag and sleet in another. I had walked by a group of curled up people and was pleased see them uncoiled on my way back; eventually they will light up like solar flares and vertical railway lines will bring down commuters from the sky.

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Art Diary: Week Ending 20th December

14/12/2014

I didn’t do the gardening I planned to do (which sums up this year!) and spent most of my time drawing and painting on the computers. Quite a bit was done despite my current tendency of distracting myself with non essential research on the web.

Red Stream

Red Stream

The Atonement Of Imaginary Sins

The Atonement Of Imaginary Sins

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15/12/2014

I belatedly did some gardening (mainly plant watering) and then went out shopping with my wife for much of the day, only having time to do a tiny bit of art work in the late afternoon.

The First Bridge

The First Bridge

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16/12/2014

I had to go out again and did not get into my study until the afternoon again. I worked most of the time on the computer creating an extended series of art works on a rather controversial theme.

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17/12/2014

I was out a lot in the morning and planned to write Christmas cards and sort out some paintings in the afternoon but ended up painting on the computer. Like yesterday I did a series of related works, this time exploring the idea of a landscape painted on a wall in a bare room.

Landscape Wall - Study 1

Landscape Wall – Study 1

Landscape Wall - Study2

Landscape Wall – Study2

Landscape Wall - Study 3

Landscape Wall – Study 3

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18/12/2014

I was out in the first part of morning and did various seasonal (finally writing my cards!) and nonseasonal things when I got in: the latter being mainly painting and drawing on the computer.

Beach Scene

Beach Scene

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19/12/2014

I had to go out for a short while and then worked on the computers for the rest of the day – putting up with numerous distractions, many of which I created myself.

Landscape In A Landscape

Landscape In A Landscape

Still Life In A Landscape

Still Life In A Landscape

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20/12/2014

I went out for the day with my father and sister, painting on the computer when I got home. The end of another week with work unavoidably slowing down because of all the seasonal activities. I still plan to return to my studio for real work in the new year (all being well!).

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A Much Earlier Weekly Diary

14/12/2007

The day opened its mouth and I shot out astride a torpedo; my target had a multitude of tiny feet and managed to escape. I chased the invisible sirens with a paintbrush. I then draped myself on ancient masonry before walking among the fallen and sprouting trees in search of an entrance. After the silent prayers I placed a lampshade on my head and illuminated the hallway.

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15/12/2007

I met my sister as she drifted by among the Portuguese man o’ war. We had a hot lunch among the cold caverns I had already pulled my eyelids across. When I looked up there were sundry faces from the Dark Ages looking down. When I looked down I saw that my napkin had polymerised a host of tiny versions of myself.

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16/12/2007

It was a bitterly cold day and there was a whole queue of us space refugees walking along the knife blade edge. Smoke emanated from the top hat I was wearing and the fairies wished themselves into existence before annihilating each other with bursts of negative energy. I paced around the cold space as memories of fifteen previous lives sorted themselves according to density.

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17/12/2007

Today disappeared like a lavatory flush; someone pulled on a cord and all the bells rung. In time to the music I danced in the mud with small sheets of paper stuck to me – my wife meanwhile burrowed into the flesh of a huge sea serpent that sailed by with the whole of the Trojan war enacted on the broad expanse of its kaleidoscopic back.

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18/12/2007

I woke with a start and found a couple of dozen prehistoric animals laying on the bed. I consequently jumped out with a pair of tights over my head (there was a blue garter above my eyes like a Jimi Hendrix bandana). After a brief discussion about a tin shack in the middle of France I cast myself adrift in a wine bottle and bobbled along in a synchronous water ballet with a number of intoxicated dolphins.

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19/12/2007

An in and out day like the tale of the person who lives in a matchbox. I pulled a parachute from under my hat and pretended to make a bad landing. I juggled thin air and then went home with a colony of meerkats in my trousers – after going down the pit in a hot air balloon I went out and in again with my propellor spinning fast.

20/12/2007

The blue touch paper burnt slowly and it was late in the morning before I unrolled the hose and pushed myself down it. The Christmas zombies walked slowly as I slid past wearing a pseudo snake skin. I managed to dance on a tambourine for the briefest period before having to sellotape my life story to the front of my vest and rolling down the hill to the glass lake of work. I had a message from my doctor.

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Weekly Diary

14/12/2014

The garden has aged this year and I unfolded a worn sheet of paper as I went outside with my childhood wrapped up like a compass in a tractor tyre. It meant to show all the places I wanted to go to but instead showed all the places I had been to and didn’t want to go again. Beyond the perimeter row of sentry shrubs the slow roll of hills was obscured by the typewriter keys of buildings and a thick column of steam looked like a swimming suit hanging by an empty pool. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a man had reconstituted himself out of pieces of bread thrown out for the birds; I waited for him to speak but went back to the house in silence. June watched from indoors as four coloured squares landed and tried to arrange themselves into a meaningful pattern.

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15/12/2014

June and I left the house (which had grown long auburn tresses in the night) with empty shopping bags that reminded me of the gates of hell in Dante’s Inferno – I would have spoken to Virgil but he looked the other way. After marching like an army coming back from war we stopped to eat; the waitress sat on a perch and the chef had an A road running though his middle – a little old lady tried to cross but had to wait until a passing vulture stopped to help her. I looked up at an angel in an elevator when we left the restaurant, June went off for more centipede shopping and I came home wearing shoes I had borrowed from Dick Whittington and flower petals in my wallet instead of coins. I put a flower in the mouth of my last childish thought and watched it drift off into the dark logicality of sadness.

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16/12/2014

I had to go out and took the door with me to save me the trouble of opening it on my return. June would have put the front gate in her pterodactyl handbag but we don’t have one, only the space where a Victorian postman would have forgotten to have closed it. I called my shadow omnipotent then talked in jungle colours as the monkeys on the overhead wires scuttled to and fro like garbled messages. As a joke I reversed the horizon and put the dirty houses on top – a man fell from a brick cloud and pretended he didn’t know me (I reacted by pretending I did know him). June and I then walked into the glimmering sky; wagon wheels rolling in front and the wagon coming along behind. It had purportedly come from a country where poverty is outlawed and money is only a bad dream.

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17/12/2014

I left the house moments before it transformed itself into a giantess combing her hair (if the house had an extra storey she would have been wearing a hat; as it was she had what was left of a test site for moustache wearing rockets). I came back sometime before I had left, a Chinese dragon stuffed in each pocket and a man in a long coat pushing a flag into the top of my head. June wanted to drag a paddle steamer to town and I drew the sea on a scrap of paper and promised not to sink in it. After she had gone I pulled the Biggin Hill airfield from a drawer and landed on it with smoke issuing from my one merlin engine – I would have said to myself that memories are like smoke but didn’t have to. A hovercraft then came through the front door with a map of the Isle of Wight on its nose.

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18/12/2014

I was up very early (after being awake much earlier still) and pressed my elf ears to the door before leaving the house. June was talking to the cupboard – or the cupboard was talking to her – and the dog was making a paper hat from the daily newspaper which she doesn’t have the time to read. After a forked tongue journey I met the grand piano man in his orchestra pit lounge. We talked in sonata form although he had to go out before the recapitulation and I then went out myself with wings extending from the sides of my head. I thought they were Nordic but the bus driver favoured the mythology of Ancient Greece. June was the remains of a camp site and was pulling thoughtlessly discarded litter from her cardigan when I came in – I pointed to my head and she pointed to hers.

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19/12/2014

I took a flaming arrow route to town, landing in a bucket of water and then drying my superhero wings in the only ray of light that was visible. Seagulls flew overhead as my journey home became a black and white movie, punctuated by one person who as an act of defiance had chosen to remain in full colour. It was only when I got to our house that I realised that the person was another version of me. We smiled at each other before he went off to crawl behind a mirror and all pertinent realities were sequestered again. June was a sergeant major among the housework chores and I slunk up to the old kettle in the roof – it was once occupied by a family of robins but now holds the name of every person I would like to be (including the Black Widow who once smiled at me from the other side of the road).

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20/12/2014

The stars of the Southern Hemisphere (which I have only ever seen in back to front dreams) were projected on the roof of our imaginary cellar when June opened the first door and followed the tunnel as an avenger from another world. I opened the last one and followed a trail of bread crumbs left by a person who is simultaneously a young girl and a very old woman. I met my sister at the juvenile blackbird station and we took a taxi to the town centre (it is code named octopus in my espionage dreams). My father was as large as a toadstool and all the stars revolved around him. We ate in the dark, emerging into the still singing daylight to put our hands in our pockets. The day was separated into paragraphs and I spent the second to last on my own, the blank page twisted like a snail shell.

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Art Diary: Week Ending 13th December

07/12/2014

My wife and I went out for a large part of the day. I painted on the computer on my return.

The Chosen One

The Chosen One

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08/12/2014

A day spent fiddling on the computers, although I did quite a lot of digital art work (plus far too much looking at movie trailers – I only started watching DVD films again recently when I was poorly and too ill to work in the evening – the addiction will fade again!).

A Short Sentence

A Short Sentence

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09/12/2014

I spent a good part of the day writing with a little bit of digital art thrown into the mix. I don’t think I will be getting back into my studio this year now.

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10/12/2014

A typical day of late which most of my time spent drawing and painting on the computer. Nothing much more need be added.

The Walk To The Railway Station

The Walk To The Railway Station

Landscape With Castle

Landscape With Castle

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11/12/2014

Out in the morning and to the doctor for the fifth and I was hoping last time in the afternoon (I have to make a follow up appointment, but not urgently). I am not sure if I am fully on the mend or not. I did a bit of digital art work but not a lot.

Throw A Six To Start The Game

Throw A Six To Start The Game

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12/12/2014

A reasonably good day spent creating art on the computer. The most productive I have been for some time in a variety of styles.

Nude On Bed

Nude On Bed

The Soul Of One Who Is Gone And Yet Hasn't Been Born

The Soul Of One Who Is Gone And Yet Hasn’t Been Born

Assimilation - Numerical Variant

Assimilation – Numerical Variant

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13/12/2014

Not a very productive day – I know it is Saturday but one still has to work! There was a hard frost and I couldn’t be bothered to work in the garden so fiddled around on the computer before going out in the late afternoon. Some writing and some art work completed. End of another week; not sure how much I have done, probably a couple of hundred art works and a bit of writing.

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