All is arranged for the first chapter of The Count of Monte Cristo. “Island of True Stories” opens at Exeter Phoenix on 1st April.
http://www.exeterphoenix.org.uk/galleries/?page=2
A van has been organised, I have posted the dvds (Annabel is frantically painting again) Badges are to be made and a special edition of Arty will be produced by Cathy Lomax of Transition Gallery. For this special publication I have written only my second bit of poetry. I once told a group of student that there was enough bad poetry in the world and they should think twice before adding to it. However in a rush of blood I was unable to stick to my sage advice and plowed on regardless. Perhaps Cathy will see sense and excise it from the publication.
In the studio the tunnel is continuing slowly but I have completed (at long last) one of my box films which is intended for Rogue studios for Chapter 2.
Since my last post I have been endeavouring to spend as little as possible. My parents read this blog and I was told that my father (an accountant by profession) “took to his bed” after being told of my profligate ways. So instead, at least for the first half of the week I fell back on old ways, lurking in my basement cobbling things together out of bits of junk. A new series of post apocalyptic sculptures are on the way (see images to right).
EBay called again however and having managed to sell a variety of strange objects including part used nail varnish (£10) I ordered a set of EPNS grapefruit spoons with which I intend to dig an escape tunnel through the concrete floor of my studio. This is a project I must endeavour to keep secret from my landlord. I have taken ideas on this score from “The Great Escape”.
On Friday, while walking past M&S, (Miss Dover loves M&S) we heard some unusual buskers. They were unusual for a number of reasons. Firstly they were neither fiercely blowing an unidentifiable tune on a tin whistle, nor were they being looked after by a long suffering dog. Their instruments were fine and unusual. I, for one, have never seen a busker playing a Bassoon before. The violinist appeared to be in another world, a trance which placed her still features in direct opposition to the speedy precision of her fingers. The music was beautiful and largely ignored by the shoppers of Ipswich. We left some money (they had but 30p in their hat), said thank you and wandered off to the bus stop. Mr Pig was at the vets having her teeth extracted so, to distract ourselves from this life or death procedure, we were heading to Martlesham to deliver some work to the framers. Annabel had five beautiful drawings of minerals, I four, not so beautiful ones, of my belly button fluff. They are to be shown in Exeter for the first incarnation of “The Count of Monte Cristo” and needed to be placed in 9 identical box frames. I can tell the story of the rest of the day in pounds and pence.
Bus fares to Martelsham – £8
Framing – £575
Lunch – £14
Vet fee – £260
Special cat food – £4
On Saturday we went to the Ballet. With a full house of mostly grey haired ladies we saw Swan Lake performed by the Russian State Ballet of Siberia (£30 each). We took our seats next to a lady who had seen Nureyev and Fontaine (not in Ipswich). She was booked into every performance.
The conductor stalked on, shook the hand of his lead violinist (our busker) and …..
During the interval we met a tall stiff man with a medieval haircut. He had danced with the Saddler’s Wells Company in the 50s. Miss Dover is hatching a plan to interview him and his neighbour, Douglas Wilmer.
My first eBay item has sold for £10.75
I had held my ability to string three blog posts together in doubt. But here I am. Since I last wrote I have been on a dubious research trip to the dog track in Yarmouth and embarked on an Ebay selling career that I am hoping will keep me fed in my dotage. The visit to Yarmouth was meant to be some sort of ironic treat but I couldn’t help feeling that I was being presented with an image of the future. Our B&B (for I was, as usual, travelling with Miss Dover) was sited diagonally opposite to a grand and characterful building which still bore the signs of having been the town’s Art College. Now it was: boarded up, surrounded by chainlink fence and litter, awaiting new life as rented accommodation. The town itself looked like a very poor man’s Blackpool being largely abandoned apart from the odd dog walker and even odder jogger. The latter looked as if he were running away rather than to. It was cold, bloody cold. Actually it was colder than that but my mother may be reading. We were visiting the dog track to see if I could find any interesting men to film. I am still looking to follow up my film of the bingo caller, and have still not followed up my desire to record a Blackpool tower organinst in action. Twenty minutes into the meet I reaffirmed what I already knew, that I am not cut out to be a documentary film maker. I found myself too shy to take my camera from its hiding place and, although the bookies looked a very fitting subject, ended up eating chips and watching the dogs parade, shit and run. It was quite good. Now back in the warmth I am attempting to sell bits of bicycles and a series of strange objects found in Annabel’s dead aunt’s house. I should be catching up with things for The Count of Monte Cristo.
The deadline for another project is approaching rapidly. The Count of Montecristo is a group project a touring show which will pop up in a number of venues in the next couple of years. Each time it will appear, like Edmond Dantes, in a slightly different disguise. But lets face it also like Edmond Dantes it will be instantly recognisable. The show is being put together under the auspices of a new philanthropist for the arts, who I have not yet met. It all seems a bit shady to me, but these are straightened times and artists cannot afford to look gift horses in the mouth nor anywhere else. My fellow exhibitors are Annabel Dover, Hayley Lock, Mimei Thompson and Cathy Lomax which is, I have just realised, a distinctly female lineup. I have made the work for one venue, though not yet framed that which must be framed, nor decided which pieces to use for the second. To help me mull things over I have been completely ignoring these issues and concentrated on making work for which I have no plans whatsoever.
-
-
