There’s been some good shit cracking off recently. I read Dune, The Children Of Men and Clay, they were all very excellent. I thought Children of Men was going to be real difficult to read or too full of politics, but I had obviously misjudged it and it was a good mix of suspense, action and moral stuff. And a bit of politics, which is ok.
Clay is a kid’s book by one of my favourite authors David Almond (he wrote Skellig and Kits Wilderness). His style of writing is kinda magical, I like it. Read Heaven Eyes! It doesn’t make sense but it’s great. Then there was Dune, that started off a bit odd but in the end it was a wicked concept, especially how the thingys oh yeah the Fremen rode the sandworms, that was funky. Kinda old fashioned style of writing but nevertheless a good tale.
I’m trying to work my way through some of the so called ‘classic’ novels, not Jane Austen or owt but like I want to read 1984, and I’ve just started reading One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich, apparently it was very famous when it was written. So yes. And of course I have purchased a copy of Lady Friday by Garth Nix, continuing the series! I wish I knew someone who knows what I’m on about. No one reads much I don’t think.
Last week I did not see one but two great films at the ol’ multiplex, The Lives of Others and Sunshine. Danny Boyle, what a fucking wicked director. He’s well good. Watch Sunshine and you’ll understand, the last hmmm 20 minutes or so are the fuckin biznitch mate.
And thus we move onto the last topic of the day, artistic revelations as experienced by myself on Friday morning last week. To cut a long story short, I looked at my final piece from my last project and was ultimately shocked to discover that it was not the sort of work I would ever want to do EVER. AGAIN. It was shit. It wasn’t me one tiny little bit. I couldn’t see my style in it. Where did my style go? Did I ever have one? It’s amazing but I had completely abandoned the style in which I work and I hadn’t even noticed. For nearly a year. What the hell. I realised that I was a fine artist at heart. With illustrative tendencies! That may not make any sense, let me sum it up: It’s all good! I’m gonna revisit all my paints and charcoals and chalks and do it my style baby, no more shitty little illustrations. It’s expression and colour from now on.
Well with all of that (sort of) cleared up, I think I shall sign off. Oh one more thing. Hi Tim, I know you’ll at least read this. I’ve still got your shoes safe here. I think I’m gonna go make a banner to advertise my blog on myspace. Sayonara.