Artblog Archive

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Archive: November 2004 - March 2005

23/03/05

Grim times of late. I have seperated from my girlfriend of many years. I don't feel comfortable talking about it on the site - at least not right now.

So, in other news - a while ago, I had root canal treatment on a large molar right at the back of my mouth, The process was incredibly uncomfortable, time-consuming and expensive. It was the only time I have ever had any major dental work but it needed to be done. I've never suffered crippling toothache but I've always been in fear of it. The tooth was repaired. After three appointments, I had a shiny new metal cap to fill the excavated void in my tooth.

However, in recent years, I have noticed minor discomfort in the tooth slowly getting worse and worse. Not pain as such but more a kind of dull ache that has increasingly been demanding my attention. Occasionaly, I would look in my mouth but I have never closely examined the problem. Partly because inspection would be difficult but also because I would dread the possibility that more major work, possibly extraction would be necessary.

In recent weeks I detected a crack, a fissure between my tooth and the metal cap. The problem was getting worse. My dread increased and I knew that dental malfunction was inevitable. Still, it took me by surprise and with a mild shock when the cap suddenly seperated from my tooth. Suddenly, this gap in my mouth is exposed, a void that feels so unusual. I worry about losing this protection, the functionality of the metal cap, something that has been a part of me for so long. But I also feel relief alongside the discomfort - the matter has finally been brought to a head.

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07/03/05

I was in the Louvre today. I suppose it must mean many things to many people - repository of art, painting's greatest hits, or maybe just history in freeze-frame. It takes lot for me to feel comfortable in a gallery. So many people in one place, shuffling to take their turn standing in front of some centuries-old canvas, well, it doesn't feel natural after I spent so many hours lying in my bath in the country, flipping through pages of prints and reading commentary at my own pace. The Louvre is a huge building and home to enormous amounts of historical, biblical, or classical examples of painting and sculpture. Like most national museums, only a small proportion of the total stock is on display at any one time - the rest being safely tucked away in a cavernous vault or delicately being cleaned and restored with meticulous patience and cotton buds. Much of the work I want to see while in Paris is housed elsewhere in the city. Many of the painings that I consider "old friends" - many from less classical eras have seperate museums and galleries.

There is so much on display that it doesn't make sense to try to see as much as possible in one day. Myself and Matt walked through the main wing containing Spanish, Italian, and particularly the classical Florentine paintings. As to be expected, there was much to see from the early rennaisance masters, displayed with the typically disturbing Christian imagery of sin, atonement, hallucinations and sacred violence. Each "masterpiece" proudly displays virtuoso handling of awkwardly-applied tempera pigments, gold-leaf and lapis-lazuli adorned symbols of wealth, staus and power. Biblical imagery and humility in the face of God (not to mention an all-powerful papacy) were clearly the order of the day and probably the reason that the majority of "art" left from centuries ago has survived within environments that have changed little, if at all - i.e. cathedrals, churches and palaces. The artists of those times seemed to have little creative opportunity beyond these bounds but rather were shaped into a world of strict adherence to classical craft and apprenticeship. One cannot deny the wonderful attention to human anatomy, posture and the rendering of fabric. But it is so repetitive that I can clearly sympathise with the western world's desire to challenge every single rule of classical art. I live in a culture where it is acceptable for me to produce imagery out of a desire to simply create. Had I lived in the 1500s - well, who's to say what I would have ended up working on? Still - small but powerful examples of creativity unfettered by the church can be seen with the ghosts of Greek antiquity not to mention with the grotesques of Arcimboldo and the wondeful and terrible ramblings of Hieronymous Bosch.

Of course, the Louvre is famous for famous paintings and none are more famous than the Mona Lisa. In a cosmopolitan city with tourists from around the world trying to cram as much into the day-trip, they have to see it. Sheer weight of numbers requires that the painting be displayed on an otherwise bare wall, flanked by security and museum staff who yell constantly to keep the crowd moving and prevent people from taking photographs - hardly the most relaxed environment to in which to appreciate great art. A nylon barrier herds the public from halfway down the nearest immense corridor, preventing congestion. I didn't have the inclination or time to wait in line to see the thing close-up. I had a brief glimpse from the other side of the room. A security guard caught me trying to take a picture so I was reduced to facing backwards and attempting to capture an image with my camera secretly poking out from under my right arm. And this was the result.

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20/02/05

When spending hours in front of the computer, I've been anticipating the desire to get out and about. However, I'm getting quite engrossed in some of the design work I'm doing for the project. Apart from interface stuff and general web aesthetics, there are some graphics I'm producing that have been produced entirely by Photoshop. No sketches, no drawings, and nothing scanned in - I have been using the computer as a sketchbook, scrapbook and easel all at the same time. It is as if my studio has shrunk from the massive two meter easel to a single monitor on a little wooden desk.

I have been wandering late at night. I leave the flat and walk up to the Bastille, then the Seine, and finally I complete a loop around Notre Dame and head back again. My living conditions are cramped and a brisk walk is always welcome after a day of chasing pixels. I expected to feel nervous wandering around a strange city late at night but I haven't seen a sign of trouble anywhere. In fact, when people have passed me on the cold empty pavement, I'd swear that they were giving little old me a wary eye. I can't imagine I appear threatening in any way. Maybe the sounds of Testament blaring from stereo headphones gives me a defiant march and a glint in my eye. I have been told that this is a very safe city - most of the trouble is confined to the estates and the suburbs. My late-night route has taken me along a variety of empty river walkways which I would normally think to be nocturnal death-traps - but there's no-one there to rob me, stab me, or drunkenly ask for change. Granted, I have seen a few derelict buidings that one would not normally associate with the romantic trappings of Paris. Clearly, some kids are getting to them with the spray paint but the decoration is artistic rather then the sectarian football scribbles of Scottish graffiti.

For the most part, the Parisien architecture is beautiful but repetitive. Every building seems to have the ubiquitous, wrought-iron adornments. Here and there, a singular and world-famous structure sticks out from the crowd. Notre Dame is a spectacular building but it still pales next to Cologne's cathedral. I'll take the trip to the top at some point soon - it looks like a good vantage point to see the city. I have also glimpsed the top of the Eiffel Tower on my wanderings. There is some kind of huge flashlight that revolves at the summit of the tower. It spreads a great beam of light over the city in a boisterous and proud display that I can't imagine being repeated from any similar buliding in Britain. Not that it is easy to tell from where I am but the height of the thing must be stupendous. We'll see how the timing of the project allows it but I'm going to have to visit the tourist spots.

I'm slowly feeling more confident about speaking my broken French to the natives. Strolling back to the flat, triumphantly grasping my newly acquired french loaf, having bought it by uttering the devastatingly complex "Un pain, s'il vous plait" really puts a spring in the step. Much of what I hear really makes me realise just how inappropriate the classical French I learned in school would be. Not that I actually learned much of it - language lessons were fantastically dull for me. I have never had a natural aptitude for languages and being immersed in the middle of another culture has to be the most effective way to take it in. It brings back memories of sitting in my French classes taught by Mr. Latimer (his nickname was "Smate", taken from "See me at the end"). Learning language consisted of daydreaming while staring at the meaningless squiggles on the blackboard, the colours in the trees outside the window, and the clock on the wall that had the slowest second-hand you have ever seen.

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13/02/05

It's been an eventful couple of weeks but here I am at last - Paris .Settling in to the surroundings doesn't seem hard. I have enough understanding of the native language to get by and most people seem happy to speak English if I at least make the effort to speak French. Shops and restaurants are no difficulty as long as no-one attempts to engage me in a heated political discourse.

I've only been here a few days. I was staying with friends in Cologne for the Karneval. I had never heard of this tradition although all Germany celebrates it. It seems to be a particularly big deal in Cologne. Much of it reminded me of the Hogmanay celebrations back in Scotland except there are more people in the streets, everybody is in fancy dress and it goes on for a week - a real assault on the senses. The whole thing now feels like a blur of Kolsch beer, giant chickens, drummer groups and parades of people flinging literally tons of sweets into the crowds. It would never happen in Britain. A British version of Karneval would be twice as messy, involve a lot more broken glass, car alarms and fighting. For such a huge celebration, I was amazed at the general good feeling and a thus a noticeable lack of police presence. Most of the main celebrations seem to work on a repeating cycle - a day of partying and then a day to recover. A real highpoint was visiting the Cathedral - I think the largest gothic building in the world - utterly stunning. I normally have no problem with heights, but the relentless spiral staircase and a hangover even had me feeling a little edgy toward the top. It was worth it though, the view was amazing and the cold blue sunny day was just the right way to see the city laid out with the Rhine stretching through it.

More than anything, I've been aware of the sheer scale of the infrastructure here in Europe. Public transport, airplanes, trains, subways and all the technology and communication holding it all together - I've been observing and admiring it during all the stresses of passports, baggage and incomprehensible underground diagrams. Edinburgh feels like a backwater by comparison. In the meantime, I'm enjoying this city. There's some great stuff to see when I take a break from the project - any place where red wine is this cheap and plentiful and has double-decker trains can't be wrong.

Cologne Train Station

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27/01/05

I'm twitching with ill-restrained nerves. Four years I've been in this city and now everything seems to be wrapping-up, snowballing, rushing onward to my departure. All tickets, paperwork, money matters and so on are in order but I still have that horrible nagging sensation of having missed something. Well, I still have all my packing to do. Drawing materials, the laptop, camping gear, the tent, sleeping bag, etc - there's a lot of stuff to remember. Saying goodbyes, notifying changes of address, all the emails flying around, my mind is whizzing.

Paris is unknown to me. I hope that, in between the work, I'll get time to tour around some of the sights. It's intimidating to think of wandering around the huge galleries, but old friends that I've only ever seen in print populate them. Sometimes seeing a painting in the flesh for the first time can be a bit of a let down. The colours aren't always as bright as a glossy enhanced print would have you believe. The compensation is getting a true sense of scale as well as observing the archaeology of the painting - every little strand of hog's hair can be seen in some of those impressionistic works.

Still, when I arrive, I'll only be in Paris for one night. Matt and myself are flying to Cologne to stay with another old flatmate and friend, Steff. He's been living in Germany for some years and this is my first visit. Cologne (and all of Germany to some degree) will be celebrating Karneval. I know little about it but I understand it involves a lot of drinking, silly music, and everyone in the city dresses up for the occasion. I'm looking forward to it - especially the site of Steff dressed as a giant chicken. I have only been in Germany once before, many years ago, when I skied through a bit of it by mistake.

Interesting times ahead, but the reality of the people and places I'm going to miss are beginning to hit hard. Particularly concerning one young lady who I'll miss very much indeed.

Time to pack - my next entry will be from France.

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20/01/05

Travelling on the coach is hell. Apart from the discomfort and antisocial commuting hours, weather conditions have delayed the journey between Edinburgh and Glasgow by as much as two hours. The storm of last week closed the entire M8. Apparently, the high winds dislodged a hazard sign suspended above the carriageway - it had to be removed to prevent it falling and causing a motorway pile-up. How ironic.

The journey is always tiring and uninspiring. It has left me time to get my nose deeply into current affairs again. Newspapers keep piling up on the seat next to me. George Bush's second inauguration takes place today - let's hope it's even more of an embarrassment for him that his first was.

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11/01/05

2005. How odd.

As a child, you only have the most distant conception of the future. I remember playing with my toys by the radiator in the living room while my brother and father watched the usual Sunday afternoon war films on television. I remember sitting, off in my little dreamworld, trying to imagine a couple of decades or so into the future and I was filled with glee at the prospect of spaceships, hover-cars, teleporters, etc. Now, I'm looking around at the world in the new-year wondering where all this stuff is. I still have this childish longing and we haven't even landed on Mars yet. Nevertheless, these computers are helping me show art around the world and we are all carrying walkie-talkies - there are some small consolations. Further technological mysteries I have been pondering include the principal materials of two separate Christmas gifts: a gore-tex raincoat and silly putty. The former product is waterproof by virtue of the nine billion perforations per square inch that prevent liquid water transfer but permit the gaseous form - the silly putty was apparently an accidental bi-product of one scientist's attempt to create a rubber substitute in the fifties. Fascinating stuff. It's a liquid but bounces higher than rubber and shatters if hit with a hammer. Fascinating and completely useless.

A bad time for many over these holidays though. It's a pretty miserable time on the other side of the world as a result of that earthquake and subsequent tidal waves. Apparently the planet has had a few of its basic physical characteristics altered. The oblateness (flattening at the top and bulging in the middle) of the planet has decreased - the Earth is now more spherical. As a result, the poles have changed position by one inch and the length of a day has decreased by 2.68 millionths of a second. In the midst of my very traditional Christmas (plentiful food and alcohol and absolutely no religion) I felt pretty much tranquillised by excess as I watched each news outlet scramble to show the latest camcorder footage of swearing middle-class holiday makers shakily filming the oncoming muddy waves while yelling at their sunburned children to get indoors. I can only imagine how horrific it must have been for the areas that were hit badly - the satellite images are unbelievable.

A Richter scale reading of magnitude nine is immense but it was a seismic event that still pales in the face of Tambora or Krakatoa. Apparently, the boxing day tsunami wave was ten metres in height. Compare it to this account.

I'm physically exhausted but teeming with energy if that makes any sense. I have to endure three weeks more of commuting between Glasgow and Edinburgh. Three weeks away from the easel and three weeks without painting. But I don't mind. Soon I will be jetting off to Paris, then Cologne and back to Paris again to collaborate with a very old friend on a web project.

I wont go into any detail as to what it is for legal reasons but I can say that it will be an entertainment website that we have been bashing around conceptually for the last three years. His expertise will be applied to the coding and technical development. Mine will be applied to the artistry and design. Somewhere in the middle - hopefully something that's a lot of fun will arise. I'm excited and nervous. Taking this time out is the only way to get this done. We need to put some hard work into this and hopefully we wont starve to death in the process. It'll be a nice change to spend time in another country, that's for certain. I like to think that by not painting, I'm saving up a stockpile of artistic fuel to make something quite special when we get to work. We'll see. I plan to do a lot of drawing - not just for this project but also because I'll be in a different city, a different country. I've neglected my sketching in favour of colour work for a long time. It will do me good to get back to it.

I'm bored with the capital. I've been living here for five years, experiencing what Edinburgh has to offer. The festival, the fireworks, the cultural stuff - believe me, it's all second to none - but I can't shake the feeling of wondering where it all goes from here. Regardless of what goes on in the city, it still feels like a small and stunted place. I'm tired of the bus routes, the cobblestones, and the litter in the streets. For every beautiful piece of architecture in the city centre, there are ten run-down council estates sprayed with graffiti. It gets me down.

Still, I can't write it off forever. Edinburgh is a remarkable place - but I've got itchy feet. My father told once that the key to living in the city is to get out of it now and again. Well, I'm sure Paris will be a huge, bustling, claustrophobic place - so I'm bringing the tent and sleeping bag. Once the work is done, I'm going to go for a wander. No paints - no plein air - just the sketchbook and the pencils, tins of beans and the raincoat - bliss.

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21/12/04

There are some big changes going on. I no longer live in Edinburgh.

After a particularly stressful weekend of moving furniture and paintings (also involving my first asthma attack in years), my studio materials are in storage. All I can say is that I'm very glad to have all this done before Christmas. The idea of sitting watching movies, full of food, knowing that I had this moving to do would be utter hell - better to have it out of the way.

I've had this low-key panic about not having a paintbrush on hand. The studio space is more than just a practical working area. I get a real sense of security from having that easel in front of me. Not having that base for a while is going to take some getting used to. If past experience is anything to go by, I'll feel a little lost for a while and then begin seeking out other ways to use up the energy.

My analogy is of a basin with drops of water falling into it. When the basin is full enough, there is significant energy to create something large and ambitious. Once this is complete I have to allow time for the basin to fill up again. Of course, if there is no outlet then the basin overflows and work is created far more spontaneously - haphazardly. It'll be good to keep pencils and pastels close to hand. Just because I don't have the oil palette nearby doesn't mean that I won't create something I'm pleased with.

Its almost like not having the easel is like losing a small piece of my identity - I think. I worry that not having the ability to paint on the scale to which I am accustomed will somehow drain the basin without any creative payback. I was mulling this over while sitting on the coach to Edinburgh this morning. I was feeling tired from the early start, not to mention the exertions of the weekend, and the morning was particularly grim. This is the shortest day of the year and frost lies everywhere. The sun began to rise and, within seconds of observing it, the old familiar love of colour settled into my mind. There is no manifestation of light quite like those that the sun barely manages in winter and I am all the more appreciative of it, believe me. On a morning like today, as it so often does, nature conspires to make beauty. So will I.

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09/12/04

Everything's on hold right now. The knowledge that I am soon going to have to start packing up the contents of my flat has pretty much halted any artistic endeavours. Perhaps I need to feel relaxed and secure in a location before the urge to make stuff pops into my brain.

It'll be good to get away. These dark winter months can be demoralising and Edinburgh feels tired and gloomy right now. I was walking back up from Leith late last night - found this sprayed on a wall.

Isn't that the whole point of hell - that you can't leave? Is Leith hell? Certainly Edinburgh feels grim right now and I can't help feeling there are nicer places to look at. Hopefully, I'll get to see some in the new year.

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29/11/04

While waiting for the glue on the back of the painting to dry, I tried taking some long-exposure "portraits" of three wine glasses against a variety of different coloured backgrounds - don't ask why. I'm still prone to playing around with the shutter speed and aperture of my camera and decided to set it to the longest exposure, turn all the lights off and waggle a laser pointer through the glasses, really just to see what might turn out.

The laser light behaves strangely. Its intensity seems to pick up every little nook and cranny of the otherwise smooth and flawless glass. The actual trace of the point of light throughout the fifteen-second exposure leaves its own peculiar little artefacts too. But what really seemed to work was simply de-saturating and inverting the image. Suddenly, one is presented with this stark image of wineglasses that seem pure but also tainted and dirty - tainted and made dirty by light, strange as that seems. I'm pleased with this image.

Next I got thinking about the colour and saturation of the laser light as it appears in the initial photographs. The laser produces very intense, monochromatic light and, when I opened it up in Photoshop to play with hue and colour balancing, well - there were no other colours to balance, obviously. Colour management histograms show very sharp distinctive spikes.

I duplicated the initial image twice and altered the output to green and blue respectively - my thinking was that combining the three images would produce a "white laser" effect in the same way that a cathode ray tube will utilise these three colours to produce white light.

Well, the resulting image might be theoretically interesting to produce but it doesn't really work for me.

In any case, I like the outcome of this experiment, although it is reminiscent of some kind of nightclub advertising - maybe I should try other glass objects. Again, I actually prefer the inverse of the same image. It makes me think of paint trapped inside solid glass, somehow leaking into the surroundings.

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22/11/04

Disaster!

Well, not so bad really. I was full of enthusiasm, getting ready to work on the big acrylic beast again. Over the weekend, I moved it onto my home made easel (basically a huge thick slab of hardboard) and, while my back was turned, the entire painting slowly keeled over and crashed face-first onto the floor. The side of it caught the edge of the piece of glass I use as a palette for oil and smashed it to bits. The wooden supports glued to the back of the painting came undone with the bending of the hardboard. Actually, maybe they were already partially undone and that's why it toppled - hadn't thought of that.

Anyway, I got off light - the supports can be glued back on and there was miraculously no damage to the painted surface of the image. It could have been so much worse - my heart was certainly in my throat just after I heard the crash.

So, there I was, all geared up to get my teeth back into that thing and get it finished and now I have to wait two days while the repairing glue does its job. I've got it now, face down on the carpet with a load of books pressing down on the timber to help it stick firmly. Meanwhile, the easel is reproachfully blank.

waiting...

I'm so tempted to grab a new canvas and just start something, just to satisfy the urge to make something, anything - I'm that twitchy. I'm amusing myself with taking some late night panoramic shots of the city and experimenting with slow shutter speeds, glasses of water and laser pointers. Hurry up, glue!

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17/11/04

I'm glad I finished that big painting when I did. I'm moving out of here in a few weeks and I really had to stop adding big swathes of oil to that thing otherwise it wouldn't dry in time and I would never be able to transport it anywhere. Having made space on my home-made easel, I've actually hung the painting on the wall to dry. That'll stop me from making any "afterthought alterations".

So finally, I'm going to get this acrylic thing completed. A few more weeks should see it done. By then I'll have blistered fingers, a paintbrush in splinters and I'll be standing knee deep in paint-stained masking tape. This is why a traditional oil painting was a welcome break. I created a particular technique of using acrylic, finely blended by multiple rapid jabs of the brush onto a hard surface to produce a slightly textured airbrush effect. Varying the dilution and consistency of the acrylic, I can produce a variety of texture and glaze effects. Then I started using masking tape to create crude stencils. The image then builds up in a series of layers, not dissimilar to using the marquee selection tools and layers in photoshop. Because of the "pointy" nature of this painting style, I affectionately named it "pointyism". At the time, I had also been very taken with Steve Martin's poem from The Man With Two Brains. Kept me giggling for weeks.

Oh pointy birds,
Oh pointy pointy,
Anoint my head,
Anointy-nointy.

Genius.

I've spent years since, refining the technique - learning to cut shapes in the correct brand of masking tape with a craft knife, diluting the acrylic to varying degrees without letting water soak under the tape, trimming the brushes to produce a finer blending. The results are rewarding but painfully slow. I've never attempted a pointyism painting on this scale before - it has been a labour of love but I don't think I'll be attempting another image in quite this level of detail for awhile. Like many so-called practical innovations in my art, pointyism falls into the category of "interesting but inconvenient". Other notables in this category include painting on MDF and using my own hair clippings as a texturing agent - bad idea.

Good to see Langlands & Bell are shortlisted for the Turner this year. Their work is highly intellectual and very much ballerina for the London elite, but I do admire them. It makes me smile that an interactive rendering of Bin Laden's house has caught the judges' eye - presumably not many of them are familiar with the world of 3D games engines. I've long been an admirer of just what companies like ID and Raven can produce - I even produced a series of acrylic and collage works inspired by Quake some years ago, entitled: Its Amazing What They Can Do. As works of art, the people that actually develop the engines and create environments are some of the most skilled artists around as I'm sure Langlands & Bell are well aware.

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16/11/04

I've just finished updating the easelcam page - happy to say I've finished the large oil painting based on the New York sketch. I'm pleased with it for a number of reasons. Well, first of all, I like the way it looks of course. But I started work on this piece promising myself that I wouldn't get bogged down in it. If I found myself hesitating over a particular facet of the image I would try to move on swiftly and intuitively.

Being able to stick to that plan is a big deal. I've completely ground to a halt on some paintings in the past. There's nothing worse than planning to do an afternoon's hard work only to find myself staring at the canvas for three hours, pacing around the room, drinking tea and listening to Radio 4. This painting has been completed relatively quickly - taking into account the scale and medium.

Like most of my work, I knew instinctively that I was nearing completion when the final elements seemed to tumble into place without me having to think about it too hard. This painting was supposed to be a break - a brief excursion back into traditional territory before returning to the painstaking acrylic cityscape that I've been working on for pretty much throughout this year.

A ridiculous amount of time to be working on a painting - I'm going to try to get it done by Christmas. Here's hoping.

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14/11/0

The latest large scale painting I've been working on features tall, slab-like structures, inspired by the skyscrapers of New York City. Indeed, the basic outline and underpainting was lifted from a very quick and scrappy sketch I did sitting in Central Park. The portrayal of bright light hitting buildings is such a common theme to much of my painting that I've recently begun identifying common elements to how lighting informs the geometry of my cityscapes.

Below are two examples of a geometric exercise within photoshop to study the effects of lighting and shadow within a hypothetical city. In the left image I produced a cross-section view of the city being lit from the top left corner. As can be seen, the taller structures (represented in green) cast a more dominant shadow. In the second image this aerial view shows that the taller structures increasingly filter out direct lighting with the result that there are seemingly random shafts of light that less frequently gain access to the nondescript, smaller buildings elsewhere in the city.

In the aerial view, the buildings make me think of some sort of particulate matter held in suspension like light shining through sand held in perspex, or some kind of tainted crystalline material.

In the narrow streets and great avenues of Manhattan, I felt that my traditional experience of light was being challenged on a grand scale. I was lucky enough to be out and about in the city in a very sunny September, gawping like an idiot. Shadows could be sharp and indistinct by turns, giant megalithic structures could lurk improbably in darkness, and the murkiest and grubby little alleyways could bloom small yet startling islands of dawn sunlight. I hadn't even begun to take into account the reflective properties of some of the more modern glass skyscrapers. The passage of the sun across the sky was rarely visible but the progression of shadows across neighbouring buildings marched relentlessly.

In the top right portion of the painting currently underway, I have represented the largest structures as being almost triumphantly lit from one angle while holding the stark shadow of the city on the adjoining face. Something of the crystalline imagery definitely seems apparent to my eye although I'm not sure it was intentional. This representation of a sunlit city will hopefully be complemented on the same canvas by a murky, damp implication of rain. It remains to be seen if the combination works. I worry that the painting will become too busy and blatantly cubist. The square canvas allows a neatly halved composition and lends itself well to playing about with the sharp angles of buildings. I really don't know how the whole thing will turn out yet - it'll be an odd painting for me.

I've done a lot of work on the painting this weekend, but I'm getting wary of over-absorbing myself in it and thus spoiling it. This painting was supposed to be a break, a chance to fling some paint on a canvas without a care in the world - instead I've produced a load of sharp angles and straight lines with almost the same attention to detail as the big acrylic work. Oh well.

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05/11/04

I've had the great pleasure of creating a tattoo design for someone again.

Sending jpegs about the net is fun and displaying work on this site brings a certain thrill too. Better still is the feeling of knowing that someone wants to hang a print or original work of yours on their wall. There's also huge gratification in creating a custom made piece of body art for someone. Think about it, someone is prepared to let you use his or her own body as a canvas. Also, you get to work and consult with someone, refining the design until it is exactly what they desire. Can a painting ever be so tailored - even a portrait? Probably not and probably just as well.

This time, I was working on a design that was inspired by an image taken from a wine bottle - a lion and the sun together. I started working on a series of rapid sketches, trying a variety of different styles and concepts until the lion's posture looked natural even though it had to be simplified for the outline.

Eventually, the image took shape and I neatened it up digitally, trying to ensure that the line work was thick enough to translate onto the skin without distorting the image. From this image, photoshop allows experimentation with shading techniques and colour. Hopefully, this will allow her to try out different colour schemes and shadowing effects. I'll be curious to see what she opts for in the end.

Arafat was in a coma last night - then pronounced brain dead, then mysteriously came back to life, then died and recovered another four times during the night, was blessed by George W Bush before dying and recovering once more - the media are putting out a lot of confused messages. It reminds me of the early eighties when the Soviet Union seemed to go through eight new leaders in one afternoon.

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03/11/04

I've been advised in the past that it can be beneficial to keep a journal throughout the process of creating new art. Apparently there is some benefit to organising thoughts and keeping track of new developments on paper. I'm unconvinced but also willing to give it a go. Writing here seems to make more sense to me - at least this way there is an audience, albeit blessedly anonymous. Otherwise, what's the point? I'd never read what I write anyway and at least this way I can get some feedback.

So, what's going to appear here and is it worth reading? Well, to be honest, I don't know. I'm going to try to talk about my art, what I'm working on, what it might mean, and any thoughts on future work. I'll be referring to a variety of external influences and pointing to them via the web. the green section on the right will contain more formal writings that I'm working on for a variety of purposes - these include cathartic ranting, examples of creative writing and stabs at journalism.

It seems fitting that any creative urges I might have are very unpredictable and unfocused at the moment. I'm working simultaneously on large format works in oil and acrylic, figurative and abstract. Hard to stay focused when the train I was on today was shot at by someone in Fife. No joke - broken glass and everything. The girl sitting closest to the window was very upset and the police took statements from the handful of people on the carriage before they let us off. Other notable confusing and distracting events of today include viewing a variety of grim slides depicting advanced adenocarcinoma, dropping a plate on my foot and finding out that Bush won the election.

Here's a puzzle - follow the arguments...

- The US president firmly and vocally believes in the existence of a God.
- Regardless of faith, the majority of the world's population pray to prevent US president's re-election.
- US president is re-elected.

Possible explanations:
1. There is no God.
2. God is deaf.
3. God is a Neo-Conservative
4. God hates us all.

So, alas - more pre-emptive military intervention, more division, more fundamentalist christianity in the seat of power, and of course, less Kyoto - four more years... time for bed.