my dyslexia is affecting quite badly at the moment. i’m binging off wanting to do other things, rather than actually physically finish the current work off, as in my mind it’s finished.
i have looked at a lot recently. experienced a lot.
i realise i live in a system that i don’t agree with, yet have to endure it as it’s the system i live in, it’s mad i know, i will attempt to find positive fun things to engage with to make my living happier.
i’ve begun a new little film; working title is ‘ dormant terrorist ‘
i’ve been told what space i have for the degree show. i’m happy with it. i do have a sense of unhappiness about the work, i can’t put my finger on it, other than to say i went to see ‘ the age of stupid ‘ last night. i cried. we are doomed. none of the ‘ protestors ‘ i spoke to after seemed to know what they were doing. there’s something missing for me. I don’t understand why it’s affecting my work. oh hang on, it’s because of all the negative energy that is produced.
if only I could find my aesthetic bubble and live there blissful and happy.
i’m reconsidering my opinion of last summer. my particular opinion being about work being made about a subject and being removed so far from the subject, that the subject is lost. i now recognise that that is the only way to engage with the initial subject after all.
as some artist said of some writer of a quote of his : if you can’t change it: laugh at it. (not very fine art though is it).
like i say, my dyslexia is affecting me quite badly at the moment.
maybe I’m just not clever enough to find what it is I’m looking for creatively.
maybe it’s time to go into a field and throw some rocks around again.
maybe I need another early night.
I definitely need a cup of tea now.
