Tuesday, 24 July 2012
Monday, 23 July 2012
I have set up an Art Is Autobiographical shop on etsy and I am trying to raise awareness of it's existence! Could you write a wee blog post (or just a couple of sentences in one you were planning to write anyway) to give my site a plug?
As a thank you to everyone that shares the information on their Blog/Facebook/Twitter page I will be holding an additional 'win an original drawing' competition where the winner can choose ANY original from all the pictures that have been put on the blog so far...no monthly restrictions.
Here is a graphic you can use (It should link to the shop) but incase you are having any problems the website address is http://www.etsy.com/shop/ArtsAutobiographical
(Oh, and if you do help out please let me know so that I can include your name in the draw. I don't want you to do your bit then miss out!)
Tuesday, 5 June 2012
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
The curve of the station roof stretching into the distance
A flickering black and orange board announcing arrivals and departures
An Asian girl talking urgently into her mobile
A man concentrating intensly on what he's reading on his ipad
A young boy snuggling into his Mum
A large clock displaying the time
People eating at Yo! Sushi
Plants moving in the breeze
A sculpture of Paddington Bear
A group of people running to catch a train all trailing large suitcases behind them
The beautiful elegance of a conversation using sign langugage (I try not to stare as its considered rude within the deaf community...it is the equivalent of evesdropping)
I can hear:
The rumble of a train approaching the platform
The screech of feedback on a microphone
The mumble of an announcement which is impossible to make out
That underlying hum which comes from being in a busy public place
A coffee machine grinding and hissing
The click of a pair of heels as a woman scurries pst
The theeeerrrrump theeeerrrump of the wheels on a suitcase hitting the ridges of the floor tiles
The rustle of a newspaper
Ice clicking together as the man next to me slurps his drink
A hushed, urgent sounding, conversation in a language I don't understand
A couple arguing
The tinkle and clatter of someone dropping cutlery
A tut from somewhere behind me
A child crying
I can feel:
A slight tension in the air as people wait for their trains to be announced
A cold breeze moving the hair on the back of my neck and making me shiver
My eyes...hot and tired after a long day at the office
The weight of the book I am writing in
Heat from the arm of the man sitting next to me who is invading my personal space
My rucksack pushing against my leg as it is jammed in the tiny amount of space available between me and the table
The smoothness of the paper as my hand glides over it
The smooth satin of my coat lining contrasting with the rough wool of the outside as it brushes the top of my hand
A slight cramp in my hand from writing (So used to the computer now!)
Bubbles playing in my mouth as I sip my sparkling water
Time passing slowly as I wait
I can touch:
The embossed front of my notebook as it balances on my forefinger
The ridges of paper already scribbled on under my thumb
The faux leather of the chair that I'm sitting on
The glass of chilled water in front of me
The textured waterproof fabric of my rucksack
I can smell:
The oil and dirt of machines
The stale sweat of the man sitting next to me
Liberally applied perfume or aftershave...I'm not sure which
Something sweet and slightly sickly
The aroma of freshly ground coffee
An acrid hint of stale cigarette smoke
I can taste:
A hint of lemon from the slice that is in my water
The slightly bitter aftertaste of coffee
(I did some blind contour drawing after I had written this (including the one here) so pop over to Art Is Autobiographical to see them. They will be appearing over the next couple of days)
Monday, 26 March 2012
Last year, inspired by the lovely Fire Byrd, I did a post called 'Six Senses'. I really enjoyed writing it and, from the comments I got, you lot really enjoyed reading it. The idea is that you stop for five minutes and really pay attention to your surroundings...what you can see, touch, smell etc. So once a week I'm going to take five minutes to myself. I'm going to concentrate on that exact moment in time and I'm going to try and capture it. It solves the 'what the hell shall I blog about?' thing that has been bothering me, it will force me to stop and pay attention to my surroundings (which is always a good thing) and I think it will help me appreciate where I am right now rather than always thinking of the next thing I need to do (and hopefully it will make interesting reading). So I'm going to start right now
(Today at 3.36pm)
I can see:
my netbook which I have propped up on a cushion
the sun glinting off a hand carved wooden boat that was made for me in Thailand
a carved wooden elephant
a spider plant that is looking surprisingly green considering I keep forgetting to water it
a stack of books sitting on a dust covered table top
cat nose smears on the window
dust motes swirling slowly in a shaft of sunlight
Lugs sprawled on his back letting the sun warm his stomach
I can hear:
the whirr of my computer
the rattle of a lorry as it makes its way up the hill
the fridge humming
Gai making his way down the stairs
a car door slam
the click of my netbook keys as I type
the tick of a clock
Chris moving about in the bedroom
I can feel:
the weight and heat of the netbook on my lap
a slight breeze cooling my toes as it comes in through the window
the soft cashmire rug under my foot
the bottom half of my right leg starting to go numb because of the way I am sitting
the soft cotton of my top
a thread on the frayed bottom of my jeans lightly tickling my ankle
a stray hair touching my cheek
I can touch:
the smoothness of the netbook keys under my finger tips
the warmth of my netbook,
the slightly raised stitching of the cushion my netbook is sitting on
the smooth silk of the green cushion next to me
an ice cold can of Irn Bru next to me
a bead of condensation that is forming on the can
I can smell:
fresh air coming in through the window,
a hint of paint (someone somewhere must be decorating)
the Issay Miyaki perfume that I put on this morning.
I can taste:
a slight honey aftertaste left by my lipbalm
I'm hoping that these will get better the more I do them but I don't think that's too bad a start. Please remember that you can always visit me at Art Is Autobiographical if you want to see how the drawing is going...oh, and if you follow the blog you will automatically be entered into a competition to win an original drawing. I put all the names in a hat and select one at random ever month so you have a chance to win every month.
Monday, 19 March 2012
So what's the book about? Well....
Kate isn’t like 22 year olds. She’s got a job to do for her Uncle Phil. Each day, she spies on The Kevin Keegan Day Nursery across the road from her bedroom window, writing down all of the comings and goings in her notebooks. That’s how she spots her little girl in the pink coat. She likes her, and it isn’t long before Kate asks her mum to steal the girl for her. Plans are made.
But then, quite unexpectedly, Kate flashes her breasts out her bedroom window at the little girl’s father. And that’s the reason why nothing will ever be the same again…
There is no one ending to Kate’s story, instead there are nine possible outcomes which you can navigate through your ereading device. Each is different, and each exposes a little more of Kate’s utterly wonky world.
One of the endings -
Reason 99 - Why I was only worth ninety-nine quid.
It’s been six days since the little girl in the pink coat went missing and me Uncle Phil’s in me bedroom.
We’ve been watching the little girl in the pink coat’s mam on the news. She was appealing to the public for witnesses.
‘Didn’t realise she had a mam,’ I says, looking at me telly.
‘Everyone’s got a mam, pet,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘She sold her story to The Sun,’ I says, looking at me telly.
‘Got a few quid,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘She wanted nowt to do with that bairn before all this,’ me Uncle Phil says, looking at me telly.
‘Do you know where she is?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
‘Belle?’ me Uncle Phil asks me.
‘She’s safe,’ me Uncle Phil says to me. ‘Your mam’s keeping an eye on her.’
‘Can I be her mam?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
‘No, pet, you’re a filthy whore,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘Can you make Andy Douglas come back, Uncle Phil?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
Me Uncle Phil shakes his head.
‘I love him,’ I tell me Uncle Phil.
‘Andy Douglas is your brother, pet. You didn’t seriously think Princess Di was your mam, did you?’ me Uncle Phil asks me.
‘You’re a cradle snatcher just like your mam,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘Your mam miscarried when she found out I’d been banging Betty Douglas. Betty was expecting you,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
I don’t speak.
‘When you was born, your mam went mad and I ended up buying you from Betty Douglas for ninety-nine quid,’ me Uncle Phil says.
‘Ninety-nine quid?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
‘I paid a hundred but got a quid change for some chips for your mam and dad’s tea,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘You bought me?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
I’m a little bit sick in me mouth.
‘It was the right thing to do,’ me Uncle Phil says to me. ‘I got Betty Douglas pregnant straight away with Andy.’
‘I’m pregnant,’ I says to me Uncle Phil. ‘I’m pregnant with me brother’s baby,’ I says, and then I throws up on me purple carpet.
‘You’re a filthy whore,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘What am I going to do?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
‘You’re going to have the baby,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘Have me brother’s baby?’ I asks me Uncle Phil.
‘Then I’m giving it to Betty Douglas to bring up,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘You what?’ I says to me Uncle Phil.
‘It’s the right thing to do,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
‘I can’t—’ I says to me Uncle Phil.
‘It’s either that or I’ll make you disappear,’ me Uncle Phil says to me.
I don’t speak.
I’m thinking, they’re all a bunch of nutters.
You can buy it here
Friday, 10 February 2012
and here they are in the hat
(erm, just ignore the wine glass in the background)
and the winner is....Juniper :-D. Congratulations lovely lady.
Commiserations to everyone else but hey...there is always next month!