O.K....I've not done more than 20 mins on my picture. So I've posted a picture of my pens instead.I've sat under a dark cloud all day. I spent an hour at St.James teaching my group to think and paint like a pointillist.It's always the same,either in school, or at an exhibition. Faces dumbfounded for words to say..complements gallore..but always the same old question: Why?. We looked at a giant book I have on French impressionism. I showed the children work by Seurat. I enthused over his use of colour..his draughtsmanship..and the fact that he is now dead.
Nobody I know has contacted me to ask how the weekend went. OK..so maybe I didn't tell everyone...maybe I don't want to cause a fuss. Maybe it's the fact that my friends are fed up with my negativity. What is it that causes me to walk this solitary road?..he's lapsing into melodrama again they shout. What is it I lack?..when Jan does not get a moments peace because people keep ringing her up all night because they want to know how she is, what she's doing, can they meet for coffee etc......she has people who actually like her!I get to write this load of cack and wallow in self pitty (maybe that's my problem?)Sadly not even Jan will put finger to mouse to even read this I fear.
So you.. dear friend (you are a rare breed if the slow accumulation of my site meter is to be believed.)I trust you are out there somewhere. I guess you have some passing interest in what I have to say..of course you may have clicked the 'Next Blog' button by mistake.In which case, turn away now! If on the other hand you are like me and slow down to see the victim of a road accident, stick with me. Things in my life have a habbit of changing. As I write now, I am still not sure if I am to continue with this artist lark, this dream I've had.
Tommorow the sun will rise (that,or it's a North Korean nuclea test)..
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
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2 comments:
So he's wrong - I do read it. When he's questioning what he's doing and why, it becomes hard to communicate; everything has a tint - not rose-cloured. The house becomes a less happy place.
He has a rare gift, something to be celebrated and shared and developped - not abandoned. We have enough money. We're a partnership - at times one earns more than the other - this month he's winning and yet money still dominates. We forget that things have an uncanny knack of working out. And surely life is worth more than money? Vision and passion and getting out what is within - are they not important too? This world needs all sorts of elements to survive and prosper and grow - commerse, trade, care, education - but it needs visionaries too - people who can see, who have insight, who look at what's in front of them and beyond what's in front of them and reflect that back to the everyday people who keep the world ticking over, but can't "see" so clearly. Is this not a role for art - and theatre. But it doesn't have measurable benefit, so people don't prioritise it. Sad but true.
And incidently people don't just ring up because they want to tell me I'm great and invite me out - a rare occurence. Usually it's about them, not me, which is good. And to be phoned in itself is quite rare. E-mail is a wondrous invention.
So - I love him and support him and want him to continue. I fail him in my marketing ability - I know not the doors to knock on or the questions to ask of whom. But I'll keep trying. If you knock on enough doors, sometimes one opens. The successful are not necessarily the most talented, but the most persistent. Both statements are, I think true and I'm determined to prove them so, both for myself and Niall. The road of the visionary, the shamman, the storyteller, the prophet, the therapist, the actor, the artist - all carry a similarity. All can be a bit rough, but if we prop each other up as we travel, maybe we'll get to the end. I hope so anyway.
hold on a minute, i commiserated with you on your difficult weekend, so you can't wallow alone, i won't let you!
k
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