Category Archives: It Cracks Like Breaking Skin

Swimming

Was the title of the first short story I ever wrote, which was in response to a task called ‘a sense of place’ which was set in my first year at Art School. That story was partly about a Victorian … Continue reading

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Dennis the Menace meets Raymond Blanc

I phoned the legendary Old Stokie last night to check where he’d be and where we’d meet up for the FA Cup Semi Final at Wemberley on Sunday. After inquiring about Mum he moved on to the main business of … Continue reading

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By request, sort of

On the thread below the Mysterious Ovookla mentioned that this was her favourite painting of all time. It’s certainly resonant; I once put a beech floor into a restaurant, thin strips of tongue and groove. You had to drill through … Continue reading

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Do you like Caillebotte?

I was asked this in an email today. It’s a brilliant question isn’t it, I really wish I’d known it when I was a young man; could it ever fail as an opening gambit? I had completely forgotten who Caillebotte … Continue reading

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My one system of barter

When I was a skint Art Student I decorated my hairdresser’s salon and also made some gilded mirrors for the place in the art school studios. I did it for nothing, using ‘found materials’ and ever since them I’ve had … Continue reading

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The blog went to work today

It was rather wearing; after the writing workshop there were tutorials which were held in the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts where there was an exhibition of basketry. Via Motorola we just intend to make make a quick record of … Continue reading

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In these days of changing ways

I heard The Killing of Georgie by Rod Stewart on the radio this morning. It threw back me into a time and place as cleanly if I’d just been shown a Polaroid of myself as seventeen year old. When I … Continue reading

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