I love scarves. I was cleaning
out a drawer and realised just how many I have, far
too many, the picture is only a small selection. I buy
them on impulse, seduced by some gorgeous colour, pattern
or texture and then only ever wear the same three or
four. I took the whole lot out and hung them on a
clothesline, wondering what could be made out of them.
Ideas, anyone? The more unusual
And below I am in Middle Eastern/ancient
I had trouble drawing the
chapel built by Père Lafitte and Susan without
some kind of model so after many false starts, I made
a very rough cardboard structure loosely based on
the idea of a hollow tree trunk. Of course I didn't go
as far as working out how many plastic bottles
and other junk would be needed to build such
a thing but I thought it would be fairly small, more
or less human-sized.
Below is the cardboard idea and
you can see how it developed in the illustration below which
is now inserted at the end of installment 18 of La Vie en Rosé.
There's another new image at the start of this episode as well. I hope to finish
the rest of the missing illustrations pretty soon.
Not writing about the riots because
thousands of words are being written and
spoken about the situation and I don't have anything
useful to add. Those who have said the most useful
things are not politicians or pundits but people whose
actions are better than words, people like Camila
Batmanghelidh. Or like the man in the street who
had served time in jail and told a reporter that
instead of wasting money and time to lock young mayhem-makers
in jail for a few months, they should be put to work
clearing up the mess and making amends to the communities,
and individuals they have damaged. And though I'm certainly
not a Daily Telegraph reader, this article
also hit some nails squarely on the head.
I had no intention of making a
word-painting and the image below evolved like this:
first I covered a large sheet of paper with splashy
abstract shapes of the gestural kind. Then I decided
to do a splashy self-portrait over the top. Then I painted
over it with a grid of heavy white brushstrokes. Then
I wanted some abstract shapes to fill each rectangle
of the grid. Then I saw that letters made the best shapes.
Then the words emerged.
Greenyellowbluered Acrylic and
ink on paper
The next picture is not relevant
to anything and I regret falling into the cat-blogging
trap once more but Pushkine (she is female) dropped in
again and is just too photogenic to resist.
Here it is again, turning up regularly
on the same day at the same time, midnight, every year.
I wish that it would forget
to turn up and then I could stay whatever age
I was when it stopped coming round.
But since something must be done
to mark this date and since it's all about
identity, leaving one's handprint on the cave walls of
time, I've gathered photos
of a few of the self-portraits I painted over the years
- many many years. They're arranged more or less chronologically
but the actual dates are probably lost in prehistoric
mists. I must say that seeing these portraits together
makes me realise that I could be quite a good painter one
day. Must get back on track. A renaissance is due.
All the actual paintings are in
colour. Apart from No.3 and 4, I still have these
and they are for sale, if anyone's interested. By
the way, in real life I don't have a long neck, unfortunately.
More recent ones, including the
digital series, are here and
There's been a very lively response
post about ghosts, inviting poems on the subject.
I've just added my own, here it is. I made
a videopoem for it and have posted it to Vimeo as well as the main Blaugustine.
just not here
the way to see them
is to wait
for that moment
when your eyes are closed
but you’re still conscious
I forgot what it’s called
that’s the moment.
a little window opens
as if you’re in a cave
to brilliant sunlight
and there they are
not pale zombies
but ordinary people
tiny figures moving about.
I saw them last night.
Some of them I recognised.