When I was at art college I got tired of all the white walls that ‘best displayed’ the art we spilled. My tutors weren’t happy when I jazzed up the walls…but I was making installations, so they couldn’t entirely object. I feel the same when I see graveyards….the perpetual white to grey sameness in rows. All those individual lives, spent in a myriad of ways, shapes, colours, textures, flavours….remembered as a grey tablet when they’re gone. I would like this as my tombstone, please.
One of my favourite online magazines. I have an artwork in this issue. It’s free to read and a great one to submit writing and art to.
I rarely put my drawings up here. Maybe I should. Today I wrote a poem and then drew this, using the (writing) prompt ‘Wearing your Charmed Life’
Some people will know what I mean when I said I felt ‘too mental for therapy today’…..even though therapy was turning up at my Trailer (since I keep feeling too bad to do the bus ride) I decided to draw a map to show next session….even though previous therapists have not been massively happy when I do art for them. It’s a map showing my childhood …when my dog was savaged by a Staffy…and had to be pts….connected to three and a half weeks ago when my dog was savaged by a Staffy….and is just about recovered physically from the attack/surgery. Art therapy of my own devising…
November issue of one of my favourite online magazines. Happy to have a poem in here:
Download for free 🙂
Hardy is the first plant I’ve not killed off; not only have I not killed him, I grew him from a pod. He is a wild child, anarchic and threatening to take over the room. A welcome member of my strange little family.
In the end I’ve decided blogs and Twitter are pointless for me. Radio silence. Hasta Luego: I’ll be back if I feel the urge to talk to myself in public again.
Tomorrow my son is coming over to collect a painting I bought off him last year. It’s one of the several artworks of his selected for a group art show in London. I’m a proud parent.
I’m looking forward to seeing him, and as you can see from the photo I took on a recent visit, he will be looking forward to a stimulating conversation with me: the whole family hang on my every word.
This drawing is one I made for Olivia’s Story, which appears in my book:
Art of Rescue, Various Authors, Ed. Karen Little
The dog belongs to my editor Eve Arroyo, and this is her story:
Olivia is a mini-schnauzer. She’s white so there may be some other genes in her pool. Her story is that when she was about one-year-old she fell from a second story roof and broke her leg. Apparently, her owners just abandoned her.
Eventually, she ended up at a private animal shelter where her leg was repaired, but because of nerve damage, they had to amputate it.
We arrived at the shelter, coincidentally two weeks after her surgery, with specific wants: female, young (preferable a puppy), non-shedding, and small. After losing my big dog earlier that year I was ready for a lapdog.
The young man showed us several big dogs, but I was clear I wanted a small dog. He went to talk to someone and came back saying he had the perfect dog: female, four-months-old (it turns out she was actually a year old), ten pounds, doesn’t shed, and, oh, yeah, she only has three legs!
It was love at first sight! She is a very happy, and loving little girl. She’s practically glued to my side or lap when I sit down. She’s very well behaved, and is so happy when we have company. She just loves everyone she meets.
Filled With Ghosts 