I decided to get stuck in to tidying the studio. I have been putting it off. It is a small space, and I realised that a gradual accumulation of piles of papers, work notes, materials samples and books, had left no room to work. None. I had, on occasions, resorted to pushing the computer keyboard out of the way for a space to draw. So a tidy studio could be a good start.
The new works are going well. I have set up a little production line with tiny pots of enamels for another work, and I’m experimenting with materials. I’m also using an electric drill to help me apply paint – different. I have been colour-correcting photographs of some completed works (why do some works photograph very badly and others exceptionally well?).
Read the instructions and check the date. I found myself rushing to get an application in on Monday. Earlier in the day I had realised that I had been referring to the date on my watch which was three days out (cheers, February), then, thanks to a friend, found out the deadline was the 7th, not the 10th as I had thought. Duh.
I have been reassessing some of the works in progress and ideas still in the sketchbook. The work is occupying an uneasy place between the made and the conceptual – an unease which is intentional – I just want to clarify where I am. This morning, for no particular reason, I walked at the exact point where the beach meets the sea. Wet sand – neither land nor water. This suggested a sense of uncertainty, and it struck me that perhaps it is no bad thing. One side or the other could lead to complacency, which could lead to, well, nowhere. The struggle has value. Besides, it’s exciting. Waves were washing in and out, and my feet got wet.
