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Up at Silly O'clock

Not that it matters much, but have lain awake for a fair while before rising!

Millennium 15. There seemed to be so much silly debate about the spelling and about the bug that did not halt all world communication, so I substituted an n with a tilde to imply L" interference. I made batch of backgrounds with the same set of colours and allowed to the squiggles to suggest some pasrts of the image, though the face was already imposed on top of the skein of marks. The sclera are white enamel.


My tutor at the Courtauld was John Golding. He was a world authority on Surrealism, and (yes, you've guessed it) I was studying Surrealism. I was in a tutorial group of one, so every single week I had to write a paper and then read it to him in his little room in Portman Square. It was very daunting and I hated reading out loud. I always did ant school; and still hate having to do it in class. My head swelled immensely when doing a lecturette on Dali; he said 'Oh, I hadn't thought of that.' I had pointed out that Garcia Lorca's work included much inclusion of insects. The two were in the Residence together in Madrid and continued as friends thereafter.


He announced at one point that he was obliged to help up and coming artists, so after I graduated I took a mountain of pictures down to show him. He said I was not ready. I hope I am now, though he has passed away and so I cannot consult him again. I take knock-backs badly, but have grown thicker skin of late.


The trouble is nothing seems to work at the minute: governments flounder; education is mess; ecology is understood but unenacted; all art is useless, inequality abounds and Covid now stymies everything.

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