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It’s sculpture this week not because I have run out of drawings but because Dancers 25 in in Barnstaple awaiting copying and I hadn’t taken a photo of it beforehand. Number 26 might be finished but I’m in that ticklish situation of deciding whether doing any more to it will improve it or otherwise. MaybeContinue reading “Olive wood sculpture”
My partner, Jo, and I are getting ready to exhibit. We have identified a few galleries to apply to but we now need professional digital images of our work. My photography will not do except for my sculptures. I have also joined the North Devon Arts group and Jo will also join when she getsContinue reading “Preparing for exhibitions”
Having learned to play my guitar and sing, and having written some songs it seemed I should get out and perform them. Something I would possibly have never done were it not for my friend Tony. I was, and am, more introvert than extrovert so I can’t imagine how I would have got started onContinue reading “Stage fright”
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I am new to this and may have remained a stranger to it were it not for lock downs. So instead of exhibiting and going out to sing I am stepping into this virtual world to share my efforts. Here goes…
I always drew as a child. At school I sat at the back of the class, if possible, and drew. If the teachers noticed maybe they thought I was taking notes because I don’t remember them bothering me much. So when a youth employment officer asked me what I liked at school I, who had loathed going to school, could only mention art. Thus I found myself at Eastbourne art school.
But I have not been drawing for many years. Not that I didn’t want to or didn’t try but for some reason I was not inspired. And back when I was drawing I never found a theme. The idea of dancers came to me when I lived in York in the 80s but did not get beyond a few scribbles and a couple of unsatisfactory paintings. Until now.
(My partner, Jo, helps me when it comes to finding titles for my artworks and she suggested that I use my song lyrics for titles for my drawings which is what I have done.)
The lyrics of We all make waves: If I speak my words spill out to fall like scattered seeds Will my words grow into trees or simply into weeds? For we all make waves No-one can be innocent We all make waves If I move my actions send a ripple into life Should I make my movements dance or make them crash and collide? For we all make waves True we are not omniscient But we all make waves What did I plant in the world today, did I add to it’s colour or help it turn grey? Everything matters, including little me, even if I believe that no-one will see For we all make waves The waves that shape our destiny We all make waves the waves that shape our destiny We all make waves.
While I was at art school I tried to write poetry, something I knew nothing about, because my girlfriend, Rachel, suggested that I should. (The spell checker tells me that the correct spelling is Rachael but that’s not how I spelt it back then.) I found myself writing a lot as if a tap had been turned on. And I wrote mostly in my sketchbooks because I used to carry one around in those days.
I travelled by train to and from Eastbourne daily and I would draw my friends, who would often ask to see, and also read my words. Tony, who is still a dear friend, asked me if he could turn some of my efforts into songs, which he did.
He also helped me with my struggle to learn to play the guitar and put up with my attempts to sing. We even performed these songs, which only worked if we sang in unison for without his voice keeping the tune my voice would wander because music then was a complete mystery to me. The only musical talent I discovered at that time, apart from writing lyrics, was keeping time, so I thumped the bongos.
Eventually, I started writing songs on my own in the 70s while living in Hastings.
Thanks to Rachel and Tony for starting me off on a new and fruitful path. Thanks to my partner, Jo, for much love and support. Thanks to the people who over many years have given me valuable feedback. And thanks to inspiration, that mysterious postie who comes knocking sometimes, and who you have to be ready for.