Yesterday I wracked my brain for hours; I wrestled and worried and then the power got cut off and I went to sleep. I studied and thought and got nowhere. I looked at artists and theorists and liked some of it and didn't like some of it. In the end I wiped it all and drew some geometric shapes. Today I decided without thinking or worrying to start at the beginning and take little steps and keep on going until I got to the point where I could go no further.
If today follows from yesterday then perhaps it was Ben Okri or Descartes or Camberwell College that helped or perhaps it was chatting with a friend about a festival or just getting some decent sleep. Okri says people are the stories they feed themselves. Descartes says you must use method, Camberwell is surprisingly objective.
So the story started with a bottle of linseed oil which then became a metre of wire. It was coiled then shone upon and it became a line in ink on paper. The bottle in wire was wrapped in a vest and looked at through a flatbed scanner and the drawings were too. The highlights by colour separated and were put back together again and layered and levelled to a median. The pictures were copied and slowly, in the process, were new pictures.
Can't believe how weird life is and yet how normal at the same time.