Untitled blog post from "macro & micro"

The layers and layers of primer on the canvasses are finally finished - painted a couple a day, rubbed down inbetween each coat. This afternoon I decided to create vertical lines using glue and sand, but before braving the Narnia that is my studio (-10 outside and not much warmer in the studio) I thought I'd look for some exhibiting opportunities on here and on Axis - nothing that immediately needs attention, but whilst browsing I stumbled across Graham Crowley's interview on the John Moores.

I know Graham from the RCA and he helped me a lot, he talks sense - here's what he said about applying to the John Moores:

Yes, of course I’ve applied again this year. I hope there’s something on the CD that I’ve sent in and that they get to see an image, and then I hope that I get through to part two. That’s all you can do. As an entrant you have to be stoic. Don’t get suicidal because you didn’t get the judges approval. Move on. I’m sure your readers are familiar with this experience.

There have been times in the past when I’ve looked over a list of judges and thought I don’t stand a cat in hell’s chance. You have to think strategically. It’s expensive; you’ve got the work, the transport, the entry fee. Above all though is the emotional investment. I’ve made masses of bad commercial and strategic decisions during my career. You have to treat the only other resource you’ve got – your time – as precious.

I didn't apply, neither to the Summer Show - for me it is logistically complicated working in the Pyrenees. I have submitted in the past and have had to depend upon favours from friends and family to deliver and collect works. The time I was accepted for the Summer Show they didn't hang it, so it was almost worth the effort.

Things would be different if I lived in the UK, but here I am, free to do what I want (well, that's what I've decided, of course it's not true), even paint every day if it's not too cold.

My studio is strangely empty as I managed to off-load a lot of my old stuff in the sale I had. It is quite a strange feeling, cathartic, but also unnerving; it is as if keeping the old stuff was some sort of crutch, comfort in past work - the paintings I'm going to make this afternoon will be like starting from scratch and I like that idea. The work must look ahead rather than just fit in with the old.

I hope to become engrossed in my 'quiet' paintings, form some sort of relationship with them and see how things develop, maybe make some new friends who don't mind that I haven't applied to the big open exhibitions.

http://www.axisweb.org/seCVPG.aspx?ARTISTID=11547