my life as a artist
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some like it less flappy
Saturday 6th October 2007 6:23 PM
This is an example of what I like to call 'textorama'. The up-coming exhibition in Aldeburgh will feature three styles of painting; Still life, (teapots, tobacco and table-tops), Moving life, (flapping bits) and Textorama (still life, despite it all)
Last week I drove the 4,000 mile round trip to Aldeburgh, (I went the scenic route), to check out the gallery. It's a big room with white walls, which, happily, is more or less what I had in mind.
Foxy comments that she likes the tea-pot stuff, but finds the flapping-bits one a bit queasy, due to having to regard one of her siblings as a sexual being. She says I'm a very dif, and very supportively, knowing full well there's a glitch in the comment box facility, Les Miserables agrees with her.
Well, Foxy in the box, I have to admit that the blunt thickness of oil pastel sticks do tend to exaggerate the flappiness of female genitalia, but I like to think this is off-set by the bright colours they afford. I hope the word-art makes you happier, because it's snappier, and less flappier.
Posted 6:23 PM | 0 Comments | Permalink
mmm, lovely
Sunday 30th September 2007 9:35 PM
Les Miserables comments that he likes the 'tea-pot and cups' painting, but wants to know what's happened to the stick-men and willies. Well Les, as you can see, stick-man and his willie are well, and wooing a stick-woman with flapping bits.
Posted 9:35 PM | 3 Comments | Permalink
a picture what I painted
Friday 28th September 2007 4:57 PM
The reason the blogs have been fewer and further between recently is because I've been spending a lot of time painting pictures, in preparation for an exhibition at the Peter Pears Gallery in Aldeburgh, Suffolk, which will run from 2nd to 4th of November. This one is of a chrome teapot and some cups. I did it all by myself, although my Mum did help me with the reflections on the teapot, and Mrs Abercrombie, from next door, did one of the cups. I'm hoping to sell it for £650, and if black jacks and fruit salads are still six for a penny, that means I'll be able to buy loads of sweets. It's great being a artist.
Posted 4:57 PM | 4 Comments | Permalink
comments three
Thursday 27th September 2007 10:37 PM
Steve comments, perceptively, but rather cockily in my view 'Ha, so you couldn't think of anything to write today, then!'
Even though you say I couldn't think of anything to write, I did actually write something. Thanks to some rather fine Orange Pekoe tea and some irresistible shamanic drumming from my next door neighbour, Mrs Abercrombie, I was able to enter a trance state, where-in I could navigate a route through the terrifying landscape of now. The reason I embarked on that perilous venture was for you, Steve, so that you'd have a blog to read. Yes, you might well look at your shoes.
I agree that it had a sort of 'nothing' quality to it, but if you take it as part of the ongoing, greater blog feast, you can think of it as a palate cleanser, a sort of insubstantial sorbet, that doesn't fill you up or have any nutritional value, but tricks your mouth into thinking it's still feasting.
Lord Archer comments 'the combine harvester of creativity fails to catch the ripe stalks of inspiration', which, let's face it, is the best thing he's ever written. To be Jeffrey with you, Frank, I'd pack in the novels now, and go for an up-dated I Ching, a bit like the Wentz Evans thing, but shallower.
Sophie, quite sphinxily, (I'd like that on a triple word score, although I know there'd be arguments. Certainly Bill Gates doesn't like it), comments 'Today's validation word is …. number… how exact' Well Sophie, today's word is 'solid', and coming after 'exact' and 'number', I think we might have a sacred geometry thing going on here. I'm hoping tomorrows word could be 'pyramid' or 'stone' or some suchlike. According to my webstats, about 20% of Rory blog-watchers only log in to read the validation word. ( I can't give you an exact solid number)
Posted 10:37 PM | 2 Comments | Permalink
inky clumps
Monday 24th September 2007 10:13 PM
Welcome to an organic, blank blog of becomingness. As I type, the empty white tundra of the page becomes forested, and 'I' becomes a lonely tree, on the spreading flora (straight from the fridge) of meaning. See how the forest grows!
Now these words are like rabbits, copulating under the comforting, green canopy of a first paragraph, creating other jumping bundles of cute mystery, leaping inexorably towards the dual-carriageway of critical appraisal.
Beware Critics! Just when the 4x4 of your mind thinks it's going to flatten a rabbit, it might run into a tree.
Now the sweet rainfall of inspiration is falling on Blog forest, and old seeds, survivors of ancient conflagrations, are germinating and flowering into trumpets, which are being played in the shade of the glades, by the wind, who looks a bit like Roy Castle, but plays more like Miles Davis.
What a strange landscape I find myself in! Metaphorical rabbits rutting in the sylvan fecundity of a self-created forest of words, while somewhere, in the far off distance, the mute trumpet of life is whispering, 'Roy'.
To be honest, it's a bit scary here and I'm worried about getting lost. It's getting quite dark now, and I think it might be the shadow of indulgence. I can see the end of the page coming up, and my computer has made a break for it, so I think I will as well.
I don't know if you know, but I once went on 'Stars in their Eyes' as Samuel Beckett, and came third.
Posted 10:13 PM | 4 Comments | Permalink
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