Winter wasteland: what an unecessary day- MS Windows is broken on this computer and it’s taking all day to fix it. It has been snowing outside, slushy dull grey day.
Night Walk with Rosie on Cannock Chase. Wow! what a fascinating experience. Only illuminated by my head-torch, I walked in fire-breaks and some undergrowth on the Chase. Starting on Castle Ring, in all totalled about 2 miles soon startling a small herd of Deer in the Ring. All that was visible of them were pairs of silver eyes, watching at us. Suddenly, they turned to escape- their white hind quarters were clearly visible. Next, we walked down into the densest woods, here occasionally, pairs of white lights caught the head-torch, animals were everywhere. On returning to the ring, I shot this photo of Rugeley Power Station. Next time, take a tripod.
Just another day: waiting for the rain to stop this morning, it did then go out on the bike. 58 miles, that’s it.
K Hersh: Sky Motel delivered in school yesterday. Since it was a staff training day, I played it over the speakers in my room. First impression wasn’t great. Now I’m at home listening on a proper Hifi, a change of mind is unavoidable. The concert next month should be stunning. Note: take spare cash for any goodies for sale. A book of lyrics would be perfect.
Making more pictures today, searching for things, and finding things to throw out. With rain outside, that’s the kind of day we’re having.
…Continuing from yesterday’s K Hersh ramble.
I received another of her albums today. An earlier one- ~"Sky Motel". An album driven by a more rocky band, it is closer to the Throwing Muses than the other familiar solo albums. I’m admiring the lyric writing still, which is at the fore in my mind when listening.
An interesting exercise is to make comparisons between the act of painting and writing. Apart from the mechanical
process of constructing pictures, the way objects are assembled is a
source of meaning for visual artists. Composition, colour and tone are
merely technical issues, meaning itself lies in lower layers. Pinning it down though is rather
like defining conscience: no-one has really come up with a satisfactory
explanation of that. However, what I am talking about is
communication, often of wordless thoughts. KH’s wordless thoughts are driven by a state of mind, one that is driven in part by a depressive state of mind. The inner pain that many feel, has been linked to creativity by Kay Redfield-Jamison in her book Touched by Fire. In another article, there was the suggestion that women are more likely to express this kind of creativity through poetry than in other art forms.
I may get this book soon; feeling a need to understand.
I’d better leave this now, it needs expanding, but I have agreed to get up at 04.45 tomorrow morning.
An Evening With Kristin Hersh: a birthday outing for me in London. How the day will pan out is not at all clear yet. But the tickets order made it in time.
In the meantime, I am thinking over the way she writes. Writers are so interesting aren’t they. I love the way they talk about the process.
She says in in a 1995 interview with AOL’s
Critics’ Choice electronic music magazine:
The air: is lighter today. There is a lot of personal turmoil underway at work but my mood is lighter. So many have personal-life-falling-apart issues, unscheduled absence, disintegrating families (not just me then). What is going on this year?
At least my day was lighter in spirit; no visits to the blue study for me. I did escape to the Arboretum for some air, some light and time.
Letter writing: try this for an intriguing website.Sleeptrip. The site is full of love letters, 300 of them (possibly more). Have a read.
Tuesday Night :
When you sleep you tell me off I told you once before I can’t resist you When I sleep I build you up I make you king of here I can’t resist you I can’t wait…I’ll suck down another water while I wait I watch the clock turn blue and think of you while I wait I can’t wait the moon shines through my dress and through my glass I promise not to drink until you’re home I can’t wait… the moon pales even when I think it holds the face of the clock I watch for you While I wait
I can’t wait…
Me And My Charms :
You can come back when you want just know that I’ll be here I haven’t left this step and when the lights go out I pick the angel up
I only have two hands… she here? is she here right now? drive her off; don’t bother to call I’m checking out today me and my charms
when I kiss the angel I have a taste of you when I take the angel I have a piece you can come back I haven’t left you yet and when the lights go out I pick the angel up I only have two left feet all I have in my hands me and my charms when I kiss the angel I have a taste of me and my charms down on the ground you can’t leave me now I haven’t left you yet
Book: "Norwegian Wood", by Haruki Murakami
There is a lovely line in the book I am reading currently ("Norwegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami.) He uses a simple language that is all the more powerful for it:
Chase: the dogs are so filthy and smelly after a romp on the chase, that it will have to happen less often. There is now mud in the kitchen where they are drying off. Never-the-less I’d still like to do that walk in the forest in darkness soon. Better do it soon, the moon is nearing last quarter this week- it would be good to have at least some light.
Painting: started a new one today. No, I started a new one three times today, each one got wiped off with a spirit soaked rag and done again. The problem was getting enough space around the figure- the scale was all wrong. This evening left enough time to build up the next layer on the third go but, I’m holding off until I am certain. Then more layers will be added, and tone, light and temperature be thought through. This picture includes cold shadows which need careful balancing.
Spirit of Turpentine 