my life as a artist
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doolittle did little today
Thursday 3rd May 2007 11:34 PM
'Look!.. I respect you. I want you to be free and to express yourself but this is no life for you. We can't live together in this caravan. You're the outdoor type. You're very beautiful in your own way, but ultimately you're irritating, and sometimes your disgusting. When I came in just then, you spat on that cake deliberately, externally digested it, and now you're sucking it all up.'
Because I live on my own, and it's nice to chat, I spend a lot of time talking to animals and insects. Being a vegetarian I get along with chickens and cows quite well. It's often difficult to find areas of common interest but last week I borrowed the DVD of 'Chicken Run', bought some hemp seed, and invited the chickens round to the caravan to chill. Some of the bantams became distressed during the action scenes and there was shit absolutely everywhere, but it was a great night.
The cows, two Belgian blues, mother and daughter, are very self-contained, almost aloof, but occasionally they amble over to chat. They like me to tell them of my time in India and about their exalted status within Hindu culture. Last week I was stroking the mother, over the fence, and we talked of our hopes for Manchester United in the second leg in Milan. She told me that one of her cousin's was Rio Ferdinand's sofa.
Abi, the sheep-dog asleep-dog, has the kind eyes of a saint and is a hundred million dog years old. We talk of love and rabbits. Poppy is young, fond and foolish and I tell her propaganda stories that involve patience and calm being fabulously rewarded. So that she doesn't feel patronised I talk to her about rabbits as well.
The rabbits themselves are very poor conversationalists. They talk extremely quickly and nervously, and always about sex, and just when they're getting to the good bit, they see a dandelion and hop off.
Birds are better listeners. Yesterday there was a chaffinch sitting on the fence, just outside the window. About fifteen yards directly behind the chaffinch, in the field, was an old English bantam hen. This created the optical illusion of the birds being the same size. (bit like the sun and moon). When I explained the surreal and comedic effect of my perspective to the chaffinch he started larking around, pretending to mount the chicken. I mentioned it to the chicken the next day but she hadn't got a clue!
Now we're into May there's a few more insects around. I get on with bees and beetles but I find mosquitoes and wasps a bit aggressive. To be honest, I try not to talk to insects too much , because it can make the winter seem a bit lonely.
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