Thought it had been ages that I had added to this, turns out it wasn't.


Meeting with T in the morning, it started quite giggly. Then popped into Chelsea to for the artists talk, the climbing in and out of clothes recycling banks, and the talk of having such a diverse practice that it was like trying to keep 5 careers on the go, was a bit close to home.

SEAN DOWER


My assessment is next week. My potential grade probably means more to me than anyone else on the planet. Still haven't posted the drawings I'm going to submit.

Had to think about what had initiated them. It was this article which started with a dutch still life and then tied itself up in knots about it's originally intended meaning and values, and what they would be now.

I remember the friend, Jon, that went through the 'A' Level with me at Lewisham, trying to copy this in gouache. He went on to do a BA at St Martins. I bombed at Camberwell after 8 weeks, fed my portfolio into a paperbank and was sectioned, seeing my classmates on the Kings road from my [private] cell window. That was in 1997, wonder where they all are now.

I thought onto why would someone want a painting of flowers when fresh flowers could be bought. Which is how I came up with my tea cup piece. [Still no picture] I thought of what was valued now, it seems to be geometry and high finish, isn't that what people are describing when they talk about the decorative end of being minimalist.

So much for hidden meanings.

Took my sofa and dining table to the dump yesterday. If Galleries and museums celebrate our material culture, rubbish dumps seem to be the concentration camps.

Somebody was dumping victorian chairs into the container next to the one I was using. Remember reading in a book by Derek Jarman about piles of Georgian furniture being piled and burnt after the war. Of course there's the original Bonfire of the Vanities in Florence, a few Botticelli's went into that. Don't really feel like making anything.

Been putting down flooring in the storeroom that is supposed to be my front room, but having to move a huge hoard into here over a weekend I moved in followed soon after with clearing the ancestral pile and house-training two puppies it's always been a disaster zone.

 It now feels like playing chess when I rearrange things, and more will have to go.

Tonight filled sacks with old drawings, catalogues, books I will never read, meant to read, would probably read but now won't. And apart from all the dust and dirt I've removed - can't - like Lady Macbeth, remove the self -disgust of taking seriously all the breathless crap contained within - "This is profound , No THIS is full of meaning, No this is the future of . . . .."

Was interrupted by D, who didn't seem to get much of a response to his Joseph Kosuth rosette, apart from a lecturer in aesthetics - seems to be a bit of a closed shop.

Anyway had some idea that I'd show here during the group show, but as it's only a couple of weeks away ? [Blackboard says nothing - as per] that's never going to happen, and can I even bear to make anything over the weekend.

One is left feeling "If I create anything more, it either has to go straight in the bin [my last two pieces] or I have to anticipate what would make it so desirable to another, that they would take it away.

Both dead ends.