Well, A Bit Up And A Bit Down

http://www.antoniarolls.co.uk/ for my website
http://www.jesusonthetube.co.uk/ for my other website
http://www.agracefuldeath.blogspot.com/ for the A Graceful Death exhibition, paintings from the End Of A Life
antonia.rolls1@btinternet.com to email me

So. Maybe Up, Maybe Down. It's The Way Of Life

Today's blog is from the heart of a rather sad Artist, and an Artist who has had a good day. Isn't it funny, I would have thought if I was Sad, a good day would make me Happy. But it hasn't. Not that much. Let us explore this. Pour your tea, get the Milk Tray ready, settle yourself into your favourite armchair and tell your friends you will call them back.

What, we need to ask ourselves, is a Rather Sad Artist? Well, a Rather Sad Artist (RSA) is an artist who is required to think grown up thoughts and be detatched from being overly emotional when having those grown up thoughts. In the process of thinking things through, the RSA has to be careful not to look back on the life already lived and feel that it really Doesn't Amount To Much. That, under any circumstances, is not true. It may not amount to what was aspired to when one was younger, but it has amounted to something.

The RSA may feel gloomy about the past, and that, we are told, is not something one can do anything about. It is the Present, we are reminded sternly by Those Who Know, that has the Power. Having become gloomy about the past, the RSA is very affected by this Gloom in the approach to the present. The Gloom covers all, it seems. The Gloom is All Pervading. There doesn't seem much power in the present because the Gloom has settled on it and it all seems rather pointless.

"What," you ask with insight, "do you want, RSA?" "Ah," the RSA replies. "I thought I knew. But it seems that it has changed and I no longer want what I thought I wanted. I want... I want..." and there the RSA stops. She is unable to answer the question. What does she want? Well, an easy life and a house full of servants would help. Nice children that agreed with her on all things would help too. Actually, her children are very nice. Unorthodox, scarey, huge but very nice. If you don't disagree with them.

What else? To have money enough to make wonderful paintings and creations for the rest of my life. To not feel like the Odd One Out. Oh RSA, you say wiping a tear from your eye. How low you feel today. Tell us about the Bit of Up now.

My bits of up are as follows.

I sold the Angel. I have nearly finished the Birthday Commission and jolly good it is too. I look forward to painting Angels on Stones for Arundel and I am going to a reggae concert with 20 Year Old Daughter in Brighton next week. I have a bike. (Love it like it was my fourth child).

My hair looks clean today, Alan came yesterday and was nice to me, and I have heard from a lovely young girl from USA who came for Art lessons about 6 years ago. That little message from her was absolutely lovely to receive and it doesn't surprise me at all that she is doing very well indeed. She was a talented and extemely likeable student. Her Dad gave me a tiny piece of paper that he had done some Mathematical Workings Out on because I thought it was such a beautiful object. I still have it in my purse. Another world, Maths. I can only Look and Wonder.

And, Lovely Darling Scottish Friend Who Married The Nicest Man In Ireland (where I have just been staying with 13 Year Old Son) has got 7 distinctions in her Graphic Design course. I knew her before she was brilliant.

I shall go to bed now. I shall plod off into the house, like an Artist Who Needs To Finish Today and Hope Tomorrow Is Better. I shall sigh loudly as I pass the French Student's quarters, in the hope that he will wonder Genius Thoughts are going on in my Complex and Arty Mind, and I will pause and gaze wistfully at the Hamster (it is inside now, its wheel has been Sorted and it doesn't sound like a Steam Train any more). "Little Hamster," I will begin to say, and find that I am unable to finish the sentence because the Hamster is quite bonkers and there is no parallel to draw between it's little life and mine.

I will climb the stairs (Plod Plod Plod) and say a "Goodnight 13 Year Old Son" in a tight strangled little voice. 13 Year Old son is hard of hearing and will shout back "What? Can I have a Sandwich and some Crisps and some Custard Creams and a Cheese Toastie?" and I will ignore him and slope off into my room and go to bed.

One thing I did think of that cheered me up a bit - if I was Associate Royal Academy, I would be Antonia Rolls Associate Royal Academy (ARARA). ARARA it will be! Night night.