The Book, Chapter 3 Sneaky peek!

First page finished. Next page is now underway.

Hope you like this style, I'm enjoying it a great deal.

365 project days 5 - 11

This project is becoming strangely like a journal for me now, and I rather like that it is evolving into something other than a simple drawing project.

OMG I may actually have talent!

I recently entered a print competitin and found out today that one of my prints has been selected for the exhibition.

This will be happening at the Oriel Wrexham, Wales from 25th March 2011, to 18th May 2011.

I am so happy I keep jumping up and down!

This is my first submission for a selected exhibition and I really didn't think I would be selected my first time.

Now I really need to calm down and get on with some more work.

The Book, Chapter 2 Completed

At last, chapter 2 the fall from grace is finished.

The story is the Bushman legend of Kaang, and can be read here.

And now for chapter 3!

365 project

I finally bit the bullet and started a 365 self portrait project. The hope is that it will encourage me to draw everyday, and in doing it in a diary I won't be daunted by the blank page syndrome and will be able to keep track of when I've done them if I stick to doing them on the correct day.

My first efforts are pretty dire, but will improve with practice. Hopefully. It's not easy drawing yourself in a mirror.

Holidays

The house is quiet and empty, mum is next door supping strong tea with the next door neighbour and they are quoting the old swap the children dialogue that has been playing between them for 5 years.

I feel lost on my own, but at the same I enjoy the peace, the moments of freedom to do what I want, sit where I like and not be the cause of everyone's ill temper.

In my daze of quiet time pleasure I wander upstairs to the bathroom, and remember that they are hidden on the top shelf.

I have to climb onto the bath and the sink to reach them, they are kept on a high shelf to prevent 'accidents' happening - again. Why do they think I have so many accidents? Why do they think I stopped falling down the stairs once I discovered I could reach the medicine cabinet? Do they even think?

I have the cabinet door open now, and there they are, wrapped in wax paper and hidden behind some ancient Yardley perfume my mum was given for Christmas before I was born.

Sneaking back down stairs with them hidden in my shorts pocket, hoping that my mum is still next door, sharing tea and fantasies of a better life with the right children.

Outside I go, there is a place at the bottom of the patchy garden, past the disused dog kennel, and under the overgrown lilac trees. It is cool there, the sun is hot today and the ground is dusty dry, packed hard where happy children have played together, and where one unwanted child is penalised for her existence.

Under the lilac tree, filled with the sound of dozy bees and sharp chattering birds I open the wax paper packet and my breath is taken away by the beauty and purity of the edges on the blades. Clean, smooth and perfect, untouched by him and his pink face.

I take one out and run it along my fingers, edge first. Almost immediately a flush of the red stuff, dripping onto the hungry ground, swallowed incompletely by the dryness in the back yard.

I succeed in opening all of my fingers today, before mum catches me and wonders how I managed to have yet another accident. She threatens to tell him, but she won't. He'll find out later, will be offended by the signs of blood and won't look at me until they are healed, fully. They take an eternity to heal, I can keep a scab going for weeks. Its like being on holiday. I know it will end, but for now, I have peace.

Ouch

Today began with the cat waking me at 2.30 am playing with motes of dust in my bedroom, skittering about the laminate flooring like a baby elephant. He then decided to pee in the bath and spent the next half hour sweeping in EVERY corner of the bathroom, my bedroom and the stairs.

At 4.30 after I had cleaned up any messes or presumed messes he had left I finally threw him - almost literally - out of the house.

My alarm clock goes off at 7 am. Long nights sleep then.

I finally scraped myself out of bed at 7.30, and started to get ready to drop the boy off at college and come to the studio. After throwing the cat out of the house again, off we go!

Halfway to college, I stop to let a bus pass me on a narrow stretch of the road and BANG! I am hit in the rear by a car skidding to a stop, using the rear of my lovely little van as a braking mechanism.

So today's early start, cracking on with the book and other things at the studio are now fully interrupted by telephone calls to insurance companies and garages.

We are both fine, just a bit annoyed, and wondering how much it will cost to repair the cracked rear body coloured bumper on my wonderful little Brian the box.

You Can't Change Your Mind Now

I did. I really did it.

I applied to Glasgow School of Art.

Electronically.

The selection of images to include in my e-folio took 5 days. Some went in, came out, went back in and came back out. Some didn't even make the first cut, then helpful friends asked why I hadn't selected such and such a picture it's their FAVOURITE.

Some were in until the final selection. Then were mercilessly binned as if so much rubbish.

One has gone in and I think it may have been a mistake to include it. And no Michelle it ISN'T the print of you. That was never in question. It is stunning and so are you!

Sketchbook pages montaged together in photoshop, life drawings crammed into one image, theming collections of drawings and paintings to match the completed works.

After which I had to write a folio statement. 12 hours of writing, rewriting, erasing and opinion gathering to get that looking like I actually know what I'm talking about and I have an idea who these artists are. Yeah OK, bluff and bluster.

Apparently its not good to admit that you think you blagged it onto your foundation degree when trying to blag your way into a really important art school. Huh? Who'da thunk it?

So now I wait. To see if I can hear the laughter from here, or to be invited for an interview.

Wish me luck.