Archive: April 2005 - December 2005

13/12/05

Its been a month since my last entry in the Artblog. I try to add something new depending on what has been going on in the studio or out in the world. Well,for the last four weeks I have been given over to the almost hypnotic act of drawing. The sketchbooks are filling with ideas and are certainly fulfilling their purpose - chronicling concepts as they occur and leaving a trail of strange ideas that have no idea as to their eventual conclusions. I've been trying out all sorts of odd things - microwaving old CDs, assembling weird models with matchsticks and rubber bands. Of course, it makes sense to record ideas in the same place so there's a lot of strange materials actually glued into the pages of the sketchbooks so they're having trouble closing. No matter. I think the trick is not to be too precious about them, just to let everything flow out into the books.

Aside from this scrappy work, part of the coursework is encouraging me to work in larger formats. I have never worked on a grand scale using charcoal and inks before but this large drawing is on a sheet of MG paper. Grinding charcoal to darken a large area is certainly fun, but it kills my arm at this scale.

Its still very unfinished at this stage but I think I'll work on it when its flat on the floor from this point. I've discovered the joys of dripping ink from a stick onto the drawing's surface. I like the unpredictable effects - especially if they're complementing a more planned and worked area. Still, I doubt this piece will make it into the final portfolio. It has been a useful exercise, certainly, but its massive scale is an intrusion compared to other works that are going in. There will be a lot of smaller works mounted onto A1 sheets as required in the portfolio guidelines. Of course, I have so many prints of larger works that I would like to include but space is limited. I'm producing so much of what I would normally call "preparatory" work right now. For too long I've rushed into large paintings - this is a different phase of creative outlet right now. I may not be in the depths of a large oil painting but it feels no less intense, just the same.

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11/11/05

For the first time since the historic New Labour victory of 1997 the prime minister has been shamed. He pushed very publicly and, I dare say, courageously for a bill that would allow the 90 day holding of terrorist suspects without trial. The bill was defeated.

Of course, the main driving force behind this media sensation has been the contribution of fundamentalist attacks, particularly the recent train bombings in London. These were disgusting and cowardly acts of blinkered hate and the distortion of a noble and respected faith. Unfortunately, the existence of the tiny minority who sporadically strive to disrupt and maim has provided yet another opening for those who would work towards a different agenda.

For a long time I have coped with a dull sense of dread regarding this kind of issue. The government's huge majority has enabled the steady erosion of civil liberties with little or no opposition since the events of September 11th 2001. It is desperately ironic that G. W. Bush condemns those who wish to destroy us because "they hate our freedom" and yet we reward a "terrorist" outrage by diluting and restricting our own societal freedoms.

Well, I think I have to welcome the return of my long lost respect for the actions and potential of parliament. Regardless of the motives, I think there was enough of a majority who recognised that the prime minister was quite simply wrong to support the appeals of the police force to this end. Blair is clearly a pragmatic man but after his terrifying quote, "I only know what I believe", he has made it plainly clear that he has neither the level head, clarity nor precision of thought to lead. His recent loss of temper in the Commons under stress has only confirmed this. On this issue, he has made it painfully clear that he is out of step with public opinion - the fear of the potential police state - that 90 days a.k.a. "The thin end of the wedge" and, most importantly, that our prolonged climate of fear may give the public the impression that this tiresome suspicion and trepidation is temporary. Remember - our security forces rarely give up such a draconian tool once it has been granted - and never forget that the old gentleman who was forcibly removed from the Labour conference this summer for shouting during Jack Straw's speech was prevented from reentering the conference under the prevention of terrorism act . What comes next? 120 days without trial? 240?

Although I am deeply suspicious of the term "terrorism" - although I am deeply suspicious of the biased media coverage regarding our minority communities so readily ostracised through casual racism and religious intolerance. I am convinced that the "Blitz Spirit" still has value today. We should cast off our fears and bulletin panic that are sold to us as slickly as a new mortgage plan. We should resolutely condemn violence without hysteria and not allow our basic civil liberties to decay in the face of a western mindset that wishes us to embrace fear so that we accept questionable foreign policy.

Remember the tanks at Heathrow? Give me a break.

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07/11/05

One of the sketchbooks I'm keeping is exploring the potential of electrical components from an old 1960s car stereo. This started as a small project for the GSA course. As usual, I've been getting a bit carried away with it. There seems to be a variety or recurring motifs based around the clunky circuit board. Bearing in mind that this thing was made in the days before microprocessors, it is fascinating to see all these old-fashioned transistors, capacitors and resistors hand-soldered into place.

A subject as devoid of emotion as this reminds me of a lot of the sketch work for the Telegraph & Pathmaker series. Familiar themes of technology and its relentlessness are expanding anew.

This time, however, I'm staying with this newfound practice of trying out as many different drawing techniques - using as many different ways of exploring the subject as I can. Being the time of year that it is, I asked some friends to help me out with another form of drawing. I handed out sparklers and showed each person one of the simplistic motifs describing an electrical component that they would draw in the air. The camera shutter speed was set to six seconds with the aperture fully opened.

It struck me what an odd tradition the whole firework thing is. Still, I can't help but enjoy the spectacle. I went up onto the roof with my camera and set the shutter speed for fifteen seconds this time. I have a great view of the city at the best of times but the site of rockets lighting up the sky and the buildings of Glasgow all across the horizon was spectacular. The sound was astonishing - a constant bombardment of cracks, bangs and rumbling.

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01/11/05

The course work proceeds, the current project brief is focusing on 2D and 3D drawing. No colour work as yet - we're developing an understanding of the relationship between space and form.

Step 1. Pile a load of objects in the middle of the studio (e.g. a ladder, boxes, cardboard, umbrellas, gloves)
Step 2. Produce a series of drawings of the installation, continuously varying media - pens, pencils, charcoal, collage, etc.
Step 3. Expand upon drawings and produce a series of 3D models based upon the forms within the drawings.
Step 4. Create a final model based solely on the previous models.
Step 5. Produce one final detailed drawing of the finished model - large format / MG paper.

So, what we end up with is the net result of analytical drawings, with several degrees of separation from the original source of study. I have to say that this project really bemused me at first. However, I'm slowly recognising what this technique has been doing to the way I work. For one thing, it has really helped me reestablish contact with the diagnostic aspects of drawing. I scribble merrily away without being conscious of any desire to produce a sketch with artistic merit in itself. Drawing has again become a tool - a means to an end. It doesn't sound like much but its a big deal for me. My various sketch books have, for years, been examples of a gallery attempting to assert itself on pages rather than a scrapbook of ideas and developments.

Additionally, I used photoshop as an investigative tool - using it to eliminate any connotations implied by colour, perhaps by changing the hue or completely de-saturating an image. Prints of these oddities were then turned into expanded drawings themselves.

Initially, I fell into the trap of thinking too much about each step. As usual, the best developments seemed to happen intuitively. Exercises that I thought would grate against my instincts have actually been incorporated and adopted fairly smoothly. I've even started to enjoy cobbling together these 3D "drawings". I've been reading a lot about automatic drawing, as in the way that many of the founders of Surrealism practiced it and, although these models are based upon the forms of the previous drawings, the abstractions that creep in are entertaining. This intention of creating individual units reminds me of Yves Tanguy's little shapes in his larger paintings - almost as if each model is an entity with its own implied personality.

I've been getting very wrapped up in all this abstraction but I had a great break from it all the other week. Niall (he of West Highland Way fame) is getting married soon - so myself and a group of our friends went up to Glencoe for his stag night. Before we had a night of drinking at the Clachaig, we went canyoning. I had no idea what canyoning was so I looked up the website for the centre that organised it. Basically, its like white-water rafting without the boat. Over an extensive chain of waterfalls and rapids, our group progressed single-file. We were kitted out with two wetsuits each, headgear, buoyancy aids, harnesses, etc. and were instructed that we would be negotiating icy water, clambering down rock faces, rapelling, sharp rocks and heart-stopping precipices. The whole thing was unnerving to say the least - dangerous and exhilarating. I think we forget our true nature living in the city. There's something delicious about a burst of sheer animal fear when preparing to jump from a 35 foot ledge into churning rapids. I would recommend the experience to anyone.

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12/10/05

Well, the course was heavily oversubscribed but I was lucky enough to be chosen. I haven't written anything for a while because I've been so busy. If I want to make this course worth my while then I need to put a lot of effort into it. With an emphasis on drawing and disciplined project work, I am expected to produce huge numbers of drawings, experimenting with different styles and techniques of analytical drawing - different materials, different media. In short, I have started working in precisely the opposite way to the way I work in the studio.

Nothing has ever caused so much upheaval to my usual output and habits of making art. My drawing is something I have neglected and trying to get back into it really grates against how I'm used to working. My dreams are really strange too.

In any case, I don't expect to produce anything approaching what I would call a "finished" painting for a good while. Its going to be ink, charcoal and pencil for a while. Not to mention I have to stay on the lookout to gather scraps of any material I can draw on or create a collage out of - part artist, part magpie - here I go.

The timing is good, I suppose. I finally finished the series of nude studies that have been cluttering the studio. I could only go so far using myself as the subject of these paintings. It has been a real development for me to work on life drawings and paintings throughout this summer. I wonder how long it will be before I create oil paintings on this scale again. It probably depends on how disciplined I can be with the project work.

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21/09/05

I'm feeling twitchy. Although I haven't exactly been back from my wanderings very long, I'm still longing for the outdoors. Autumn is refusing to set in at the moment - the leaves are still clinging to the trees. I find myself pacing around the studio, unable to concentrate on what I'm painting. Usually this is a recipe for disaster on the canvas but I'm fairly happy with the way this large nude study is turning out. Again, most of the canvas is dominated by the torso, cropped at the head and waist. The subject focuses on the hand gestures more than the last time - the hands dominating the lower portion of the canvas. In a similar style, crosshatched brushstrokes obscure some portions of the composition and emphasise others.

One of the final things I completed on the last painting was the surrounding background. I left it very unfinished and, impulsively, green - a colour I usually have some kind of strange blind spot with. The crosshatching across the torso into the background makes sense to me - it feels correct. But this time I'm obsessing over the issue of background colour. It seems so much more important this time and I don't know why. Maybe I shouldn't worry about it. Maybe I'll let myself act impulsively again - not with green though. I was lucky to get away with that the last time.

I can barely concentrate to write this down. I feel like I need a focus of some kind. Recently, I applied to the Glasgow School of Art to take part in a portfolio course. I'm hoping it will give me some discipline to approach projects in a more planned and disciplined way. I rely way too much on spontaneity. Here's hoping that I'm accepted. I should find out this week.

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16/09/05

My right foot is still bothering me but the walk was worth it. The West Highland Way covers 100 miles of countryside from the north east of Glasgow to Fort William on the west coast, finishing at the foot of Ben Nevis - Britain's highest mountain. Myself and Niall, an old friend from university days, walked throughout the week, cooked sausages and porridge in the tent, drank in the local pubs at each stop, and completed the walk, sparing a day to climb the final mountain.

Paris was hectic and Glasgow, although familiar, is a big city. I was longing to get some air into my lungs and stretch my legs this year - this was a welcome break. I feel so much better.

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28/08/05

What a strange day.

I had agreed to participate in the BBC's "Rolf on Art" special - live from Edinburgh. I was lacking in sleep before traveling through early this morning. Dozing on the train helped but it left me very bewildered as to what followed.

Imagine one hundred BBC runners, highly stressed, not used to the local climate, but armed with a formidable contingency of alternative plans for when all else goes pear-shaped. Still,the plan was well established and good. 120 artists would paint a small section of the Mona Lisa - all of which would be assembled on live television in the evening to create a giant collage - an accumulation of many artist's styles and passions. Well, I was one of those artists. Think to the lower portion of her left sleeve - this was the area of canvas that I was to replicate. Being a wholly dull and dark section of the painting to represent, I produced a very dense and quick acrylic mass, streaked with lines of glaze. However, to give the impression of a single painting in itself, I replaced the cracks of varnish with the signature of the master himself - Leonardo. I wonder what he would make of this spectacle tonight. Bathed in the light of the technology he predicted.

Check out the BBC website for the finished result. The collage was arranged this evening to much harsh lighting and yelling of the public. As I write, I haven't seen the finished result - I'm too busy packing my things for a week of camping. Tomorrow I walk the West Highland Way with an old friend - I hope he enjoys it.

A word on Rolf...

He took the time and interest to display untold enthusiasm for my painting. No matter what enormous stress an event like today must have been for himself and the various other celebrities, he was very approachable and very energetic. I handed my camera to a woman standing nearby and asked her to take a photograph of myself, Rolf and my canvas.

So here it is. The person poking his head between our shoulders is my friend Jason, the tattoo artist. The reason he is laughing so hard is because at this point he knew something I didn't - the woman I asked to take the photograph was the film star, Jane Seymour.

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23/08/05

The smaller figure from Impression: Notre Dame occupies my interest at the moment. The figure's shape wasn't particularly planned but there's something about its outline that keeps me thinking. The original painting carries a tension in the relationship between the two figures standing in the rain and I find myself thinking more about this person. I think it is a woman although I can't be certain. I've prepared a canvas for a larger painting of this woman. I'm in the process of experimenting with different possible variations on style. I can feel the essence of how she will look but I can't see it yet. I think the face will be isolated but the body will be portrayed more decoratively. I can see the painting being more precise and less impressionistic. It feels strange to work like this - to extrapolate a painting's component from a small concept into its own finished piece of work. Usually studies for a painting precede the finished work. Regardless, I'm not feeling very confident about the eventual outcome - if I don't tackle the major work soon I'll probably leave it behind - use the canvas for something else. Perhaps this figure is destined to become a finished drawing. Or maybe she'll stay like this, in obscurity.

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03/08/05

Okay, I'm clearly not done with the nude thing yet. Two large pristine canvases have been lurking in the corner of the studio for a while and I expected another was going to be used on another reflection painting. Instead, I started on what I thought would be a final nude study using myself as a subject.

The larger scale seemed to give rise to problems. First, I was aware of the desire to do something highly finished with the large canvas - consequently, I lost some of the spontaneity that usually produces something good. I certainly spent more time working on this painting than I intended. Second, the lighting of the pose was more subtle than I've been used to - I just couldn't seem to get the midrange flesh tones right. Still, it is actually a pretty good facial likeness of me. I'm not sure if this success was a result of practice; all the painting I've been doing recently - or maybe it was just a happy accident. The better stuff always seems to flow out on to the canvas. If I spend too long struggling and solving problems, I may still produce something that I like but it will always be second best. Or maybe its something simpler. Perhaps I just dislike something that made me frustrated - the experience becomes tainted with the memory of the fight, having to spend more time and effort than normal.

I needed a break after this but I still needed to keep painting - an odd feeling. So in one evening I threw paint onto a little board in the good old impressionist style again. I had seen a wonderful sunset beyond the tower blocks on the edge of the city some nights previously and I churned out something like it. It couldn't be further from the style of the nudes - very loose and quick with attention paid to the colour at the expense of the form. The colour problems of the previous painting were jarred by this. Very quickly I prepared the other large canvas and started on another nude. The pose in the above painting was me trying to click my troublesome lower back - easing the pain of standing for hours in front of the easel - bracing myself on the floor with my right leg and twisting at the hips. This pose left a lot of background space on the canvas so I decided to try something simpler that devoted more of the painted surface to the skin.

This was the result. It was painted very quickly and spontaneously and it seems purer to me somehow - definitely the best of the series. The above little foray back into impressionism loosened up the brushstrokes - I created detailed forms and then crosshatched them to produce something not quite impressionistic. This painting has far more representational colours used in a more natural pose of conversational gestures. The best sign of all was that I rarely revisited previous areas - minimal correction and definitely less use of paint. It is clearly a very different kind of painting compared to the other nudes but I feel confidence in the natural change of styles through repetition. I know I'll work on still more nudes but I'm not going to impose limitation in style - we'll see where it all goes.

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27/07/05

I've been trying my hand at drawing with charcoal. This last week I attended a life drawing workshop at the Glasgow School of Art - a lovely building, if a bit battered and scuffed. Some of the exercises were excruciating. I was encouraged to work in a very counter-intuitive way, the purpose being to break me out of habits and expose me to new techniques and methods of approaching drawing.

The most rewarding elements of the workshop were the moments wear I felt able to capture something of the subject from a model as opposed to working from conceptual drawings or photographs in order to complete a finished painting. I have been working more and more with painting the naked human form, trying to appreciate some of the subtleties of anatomy.

Throughout the week, I have been working on one final painting based upon photographs of myself. The drawing exercises upset the flow a little but I hope to finish it soon. Right now the flesh-tones seem to be excessively pale and blue, regardless of the fact that I live in Scotland. I have a couple of reflection studies in mind for when this is finished - I'm just waiting to dash out with the camera when it next rains.

 

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08/07/05

I'm back in Scotland again - feels good. Within no time of returning, I threw myself into painting again. With access to the studio and some nice large canvases, I quickly took an old image of my goldfish and adapted it for colour. I had such a huge spontaneous rush of energy in starting this first painting - after six months without making a mess with oil or acrylic I knew that something colourful was going to appear. For the first time, I have used quickly applied impressionistic brushstrokes to imply movement. Well, the finished result is a little over the top but it makes me smile. Its a nice big painting too - it certainly brightens the room. Having completed this, I settled into working on a smaller, more subtle painting.

It didn't seem right not to create at least one piece of work that didn't reflect my time in Paris and, unsurprisingly for me, reflection cropped up again. I loved the rain in Paris. They have occasional but massive downpours - big fat drops of rain that clear the air in minutes. The courtyard in front of the cathedral was one of the places I walked through most and I used a tiny portion of a photograph I took in front of Notre Dame as the basis of this painting. The reflection effects are more abstract than usual. I allowed a sense of experimentation to creep in as I was putting the finishing touches - little blocks of colour here and there. The tension between the presence of the two people wasn't intended but I liked the overall effect.

And then, with no fanfare, I started painting again. I still had such a strong urge to keep working but no subject matter in mind. So, I took a series photographs of myself and started sketches based on them. Painting anatomy is almost completely new to me. I've never had much interest in depicting flesh in this way but the experience has changed something in me. I have never been as productive as I am right now - I'm continuously priming new canvases for the easel and experimenting with different colour combinations for skin tones and shadow effects. To paint in such a way to define form was not a conscious decision. There are no impressionistic feathers of paint streaking canvas fibres. I have been applying paint so decisively and strongly compared to the way I normally work, leaving me pleasantly bewildered. I have described the process of my painting as being a process of deleting the mistakes I don't want to keep - well, this has been a very different experience. Feeling this enthused can only be good - It has been years since I have been quite so absorbed by painting.

 

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12/06/05

I went to La Museé D'Orsay this weekend - finally. This was the big one for me. Much as the Lovre was a pilgrimage for famous and historical painting, this weekend was about finally seeing in the flesh paintings that I know very well indeed - those that I learned from. The gallery itself is a far friendlier place than the Louvre - a pleasant and informal blend of old and new architecture. Once a railway station - there is plenty of natural light available - ideal for paintings in which so often the primary focus is natural light and raw co lour effects. A grin broke my face when I turned a corner and saw Degas' The Bellelli Family. Here was a painting that I have studied for hours in glossy books of print. As I have said before, it is often disappointing to see an original painting in the gallery if you know it extremely well - being accustomed to colour-corrected glossy print. Well, being amongst the old favourites was no exception. However, the great breakthrough pieces were superb to see. I've never really liked much of Manet's work but having my nose up close to Olympia and, his best work, the simple still-life paintings encouraged me to think afresh. As ever, it is hard for me to enjoy a piece of art when four hundred other people are shuffling around me and barging into my view. It's harder still when overawed with image after image of fame and education in so short a space of time.

The one thing that really struck me was just how close I could get. The one real benefit from being in a gallery as opposed to staring at a print is that I could see the detail - the thickness of the paint on the canvas and the coarseness of the brush used. No velvet ropes, no surly attendants -I was able to get within centimeters of the paintings I love the most. And there, in front of one of Monet's haystack paintings, I had a little moment of peace. I was able to forget the hundreds of people behind me and I finally saw a famous painting the way I see my own. I was able to forget the whole and concentrate on the intimate habitat of a painting - maybe two square inches of lumps and bumps, pigment and distortion, scrapes and mistakes.

It refuels and charges. I am returning to Scotland in just over a week. I am so looking forward to three things: seeing my family and friends, climbing in the quiet open air, and painting.

And painting and painting and painting...

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20/05/05

I've just got back in from another late-night marathon walk. I've become accustomed to the greasy roads, streetlights shrouded in leaves. The shop-fronts are quaint and stereotypical - the architecture leaves me cold for the most part. It is beautiful but too repetitive to maintain the impact. After a few blocks I stop appreciating it. In the usual setting, something occurred to me tonight. Here I am in this classical city of famous cultural influence, style and aesthetic appeal. If someone were to ask me what my single strongest memory from my time in Paris was, my answer wouldn't be the galleries, the paintings, the cafes, bars and restaurants. Not even the glorious wine - it would have to be all the homeless people.

Night after night, I walk the beautifully quiet, tree-lined streets. There are so many items that appeal along the pavements - movie billboards and chained mopeds lined up in formation. Every other street seems to have at least one shop doorway where some poor soul is huddled for the night. Sometimes passed out with a bottle in front of them. Others are clearly veterans of the city, with a mini-fortress of cardboard, blankets and provisions. It seems so incongruous with what appears to be such an established hallmark of civilization. Paris is equipped for every tourist, employee, artisan, critic, commentator, adventurer, traveler and career professional. Yet there is no reward in helping the growing number of alcoholics, mentally-ill, and general misfits that have no option but to sit on the streets. So there they stay. I am not writing this out of outrage or pity, only confusion. I have been so long away from the notebook or easel that my mind is filling itself with unborn images when I try to sleep in the early hours. I can feel the new images lining up to be assessed by the part of me that has to produce paintings. I know what will be painted because I am thinking of Boulevard Diderot, Rue St. Antoine, even the Place de Republique - all glittering lights, lush vegetation, and a forgotten minority of shapes huddled in sleeping-bags.

I have no great social commentary to make, no grand theories. I do have precedent though. When I lived in the country I produced paintings of nature - when in Edinburgh, I painted buildings. There is no inspiration, only exposure.

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06/05/05

General election time again - I'm sitting in the flat in Paris watching the BBC webcast of the election footage. Superb commentary from Andrew Marr, the usual combatative insults from Jeremy Paxman, and the frankly ludicrous computer generated statistical nonsense with Peter Snow. I care deeply about politics and, like all other things I can exercise no influence over, I get utterly frustrated and angry by what I hear. I sense the distant call of approaching middle age when I catch myself shouting at the television.

I'm not sure if increased attention to political issues has made me more sensitive to the morals of politicians but it seems to me that they aren't capable of lying nearly so well as they once did. Regardless, I really can't understand if the electorate are either accepting of political ethics, particularly with regard to current foreign policy, or if they are just easily convinced. Is there a single person who believes in the "extensive and credible" threat that brought the UK to war? Is it acceptable to turn a blind eye to the lies of a Prime Minister because we know conflict is inevitable? What turns my stomach the most is having to listen to Jack straw attempting to patch a myriad of lies with other untruths by his continuous dubious translation of UN resolutions and international law despite the massive press and legal criticisms to the contrary. Contrast this with the unsavoury manipulations of Michael Howard, preaching to the reptilian brains of the racists and xenophobes.

I was in London last weekend. I walked past Downing Street for the first time since I was about five years old. As usual, actual physical exposure to a concept leads me to more confusion. Rosettes and liars - claims, counter-claims and rebuttals. After one of the most senselessly dull, base and withering election campaigns I can remember, we are preparing to re-elect an openly dissembling and overly centralized government and we still have no credible alternative. I find it hard to see democracy in action - I can clearly see the bars at the end of the tunnel.

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26/04/05

Only a couple of weeks after my last visit, I was back at the Eiffel Tower, this time to take the trip to the top with some friends. I think I've neglected photography recently so I was pleasantly surprised to have come home with two images that work for me.

This first one is a panorama of Paris. Four images, taken from the observation deck, were stitched together in Photoshop. I think I'm getting better at choosing the amount of pan between photographs - fewer lens distortions are apparent in the finished image. Paris is flat and repetitive. The residential buildings are so similar and all are roughly around the same height so the landmarks are easy to pick out. I also love to see the light areas where the sun breaks through the clouds.

The second image was sheer luck. I held my camera through the safety barrier at the top, pointed it down and zoomed in as far as I could. After a little cropping and cleaning, the final image is strangely compelling. The vague streaks of wet concrete hold a vertical pattern, the line of people also suggests order wheras the scattering of others makes me think of more random, insect-like behaviour.

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04/04/05

Yesterday was an eventful day. I went for an extremely long walk to the Eiffel Tower. I got sunburn and aching legs but it was worth it. On return to the flat I discovered that we were locked out and needed to break the door in. Also the Pope died.

The Tower is certainly quite a structure, although a little uglier than I expected when up close. After all, it is just a massive collection of steel and iron - elegance in the slender design is better seen from afar. Nonetheless, it is an amazing feat of architecture and engineering. Like all such monumental oddities in the world, there are huge numbers of facts, figures and stats on display. Anecdotes and tape measures - I have been particularly impressed with the official Eiffel Tower website. There are plenty of images and QTVRs available, along with the history and other related information.

It was my day to get out and about again. I have been sitting in front of this computer working on the project design relentlessly. The weather is suddenly beautiful, the leaves are sprouting from the trees and I knew it would do me good to get out. I have been low of late - coming to terms with being single again, not to mention the inevitable decline of spirits that comes with trying to work to get away from it all. So my long walk in the beautiful city of Paris wasn't as uplifting as it could have been. I marched through the crowds, mulling things over.

My thoughts turned to an idea that I've been bouncing around for a while. My previous work in cancer services put me in contact with some amazing people - doctors, nurses, clinicians, you name it. I was particularly interested in the institutional environment that they worked in and how it shaped their lives. For whatever reason, I imagined an accident happening to a doctor that appears to disfigure him as well as leaving him with new abilities - the kind of bizarre situation that transforms mild-mannered citizens into superheroes. I liked the idea of it being a parody of old comic books. Of course, there is no such transformation, rather the perceived results of this accident can be viewed as a metaphor for a psychotic episode with all the accompanying stress and delusion. Mentally, I have been creating a story in comic-strip form that chronicles the character, his accident, his transformation, and subsequently the strange twists that this delusion/alter ego bring to his working life. I'm uncertain about creating a comic strip - it may work well as a piece of animation.

The provisional and silly working title to this is Haematology Man. When I lay down on the grass next to the tower, I finally pulled out my notebook and started to scribble the initial ideas. While I'm here in Paris this is an ideal creative outlet - I don't need a canvas.