Thursday, 25 February 2010

Photos from the Exhibition for details of the A Graceful Death exhibition now in London till the 28 February for my website to email me

Photos from the Exhibition.

A view of the "Portrait of a Couple" and others

A view of "Glum Angels Triptych" and "Goodbye Michael, Goodbye Old Friend"

A view of "Loneliness Triptych". The most pressing pain was not knowing where Steve had gone. Where did he go? In this triptych, I sit alone with an empty chair and Steve's slippers, then there are only two empty chairs, and then just Steve's slippers. I am looking straight ahead and my eyes are red from crying. The theme of the painting is emptiness. Loss, things Going. things Not Being There.

A View of my favourite ever "A Graceful Death 2". This is the day Steve went to another unknown unknowable place. He was beyond us, wherever that is, and I was left with his empty beautiful body. There are two inspirations for this painting, one is the wonderful Deposition paintings of Holbein, of the stark 15 and 16 century paintings of the Entombment of Christ, Christ Crucified. The power of the iimage is made more dramiatic by making it represent Jesus who is the Son of God. The second inspiration was from an artist i met called Stevan Stratford who painted a portrait of his daughter with a gold background that made such an impression on me. The gold in the background lifted the image to a higher plane. Steve here is in full glory and is where we all will be.
More as it all happens. Wish Dublin Friend could come. Get on plane, Dublin Friend, I have the kettle on.

First Open Evening Of Exhibition A Success You Can All Breathe Again for the latest on the A Graceful Death exhibition in London now for my website to email me

So. A Good First Night And I (And You) Can All Breathe Now

I am so relieved. I came up and set up the exhibition in Clarissa's house which is now A Gallery. We moved all her furniture into the spare room (spare room? Just the one? There are probably over a million spare rooms here. It's a big house) in fact we removed everything that the eye could see from the hall and dining room, unscrewing things from the walls, taking dining tables apart, and so on. Then up went the paintings and Oh Boy! They look so so good in Clarissa's house. There is A Graceful Death in the hall and dining room, Jesus on the Tubes going up the stairs and Every Day Angels in the kitchen. Three exhibitions in one go. Oh how clever. And Clarissa continued to run her business alongside doing this Exhibition Construction Stuff from her office at home, showing me how real people multi task and Get Things Done. Wine was delivered care of Clarissa's brother, (Thank You Clarissa's Brother. He runs a wine business and Knows These Things) while I made billions of eggy sandwiches on brown bread, and cream cheese and cucumber on white, crusts removed, and cut into teeny teeny triangles. (One for the plate, one for me. One for the plate, one for me. Etc).

When everyone started to arrive I felt so proud of the paintings, the work done to make them look good as an exhibition, and of Clarissa's faultless good taste in arranging and sorting everything out. For a brief moment I felt a primeval urge to rush up to everyone and say "No! Don't say it! I understand you don't want to be here and I fall at your feet in a grovel and apologise! I am Above Myself and Uppity and What Am I Thinking Of Putting On This Show!" That may be the artist's version of stage fright because once I said Hello to the first visitor I felt able to cope. There were, after all, a trillion microscopic sandwiches to help things along, and the Excellent Wine and diet coke to add further meaning to the evening.

People were moved. Good. People have much they carry around in their lives, and this exhibition seems to enable those who wish it, to Talk. I love this. Sometimes, when the time is right and it is safe to do so, Talking about what is really in your heart and on your mind, is a great relief. That business of Not Being Alone and not Being The Only One Who Feels This Way is very important. I did meet some very interesting and thoughtful people.

I gave a speech. Yes. Clarissa insisted and Alan insisted because they both didn't have to do it. I did. They were right though, it was good to explain things a bit, because I can't assume everyone knows exactly what I mean and what I am about just by osmosis. I feel the Speech was a kind of steam of conciousness ramble but I could see that the fact that I said anything at all looked professsional. And, this is so good, 16 Year Old Son clapped his hands and made the room quiet and introduced me. 16 Year Old Son! He hates me! Not any more he doesn't, he wanted to do it because neither Alan nor Clarissa felt able to and 16 Year Old Son said "Leave it to me". And he did it so well. Oh I was so proud of him. I felt like saying "Thank you Everyone and before I begin isn't he (16 Year Old Son) lovely? I used to pick him up with one hand and he used to love Bambi and he really believed the Tooth Fairy was real. Oh and I remember when....."

So here I am at Clarissa's in Wimbledon. I am eating a lot of egg mayonnaise sandwiches, and feeling terribly in control. I sold some Angels, I have 2 more commissions, I met some pretty fab people, and it is only Day Two. I am here till Sunday, and on Sunday we have a Closing Party from 6 - 9 too. It is all parties and eggy sandwiches.

Next weekend I go to Birmingham and on Monday I open there. I have a large hour long slot to make an address on Monday during the day, and then at the Launch in the evening I will have another address to give so I may have to add a bit of Singing and Dancing to keep up the interest and momentum. "So during this difficult time I took photographs of Steve as he deteriorated before my eyes and made images that spoke of my pain and here is a cha cha cha I designed to explain it all."

Come to the exhibition. I will put photos up when I can, I am not At My Computer today so can't, but when I do you will all say one of two things.

  • Boy I am glad I was one of the Chosen and made it to this Life Altering Exhibition where the Eggy Sandwiches matched the Wine and Diet Coke and Altered My Life
  • Why oh Why Did I Listen to name and agree to go to the Ritz/Opera/Tescos when I Could Have Been At Clarissas Being Deeply Moved and Artistically Enthused and How I Dream of Eggy Sandwiches Diet Coke and Wine. I Feel My Life Has No Meaning.

So there is time. Details follow -





eggy sandwiches diet coke and wine. And paintings.

Sunday, 21 February 2010

Alone In The House. There Is A God. for the latest about the A Graceful Death exhibition opening this Wednesday in Wimbledon for my website
mailto:antonia.rolls1@btinternet.comom to email me

Alone In The House. Thank You. There Is A God.

It is not that I don't love adore and cherish everyone that is in my house at all times, it is just that it is like a Naughty Moment Of Freedom when everyone has gone. Almost like I should not have this dangerous gift of utter freedom - at a weekend too. It feels like I have a Get Out Of Jail Card Free. Yippee. Hooorah.

Let us analyse this a bit. I am alone in the house. I am in my studio. If there was anyone in the house, across the garden, I would not see nor meet them. But there is a feeling of the space around me being bigger, there are echoes in the rooms that are not there when there are people about. There is no hint of a shadow passing at a window on its way to the kitchen to eat Everything In The Fridge and Leave The Washing Up . The loo seat is still closed when I go back into the house every now and again. No one has had a bath and so the towels and the floors are dry.

And no one is coming out of the french windows in the sitting room in their pyjamas at 2pm, picking their way in the rain across the garden to ask me an impossible question like What Is There To Eat? Or When Will You Be Finished? Or Have You Done My Washing? Or even Who Are You?

There is a feeling of being unaswerable to anyone, there is a feeling that if I want to eat (as I do, but not until I am celebrating something) a whole box of Milk Tray, both layers, I can. I can start it without comment or preparation, in my studio, wander with the box and a brown mouth to the sitting room where I can watch telly for a while. Then I can, if I like, take my dribbly brown mouth and sticky hands and the Milk Tray box to the kitchen, the bathroom, any of the bedrooms, and in each place, sit and Have Another Chocolate. I am going to do this one day. It is a Given.

13 Year Old Son has just phoned to say he won't be home for 7pm as he has 7 more stops and each stop takes 10 minutes. Lordy, I thought. So I phoned him and he said he was at Amberly which is only a few stops from Bognor. Surely, I said, it won't take you over an hour to get from Amberly to Bognor? You talking to me? he said distractedly. I gave up. Sweetie Pie, I said, your food will be ready when, and if, you get home. It seems he wanted to pass on his angst, by giving me an emotional and innacurate text, the facts were not important. Just the feeling of being doomed to be on the London to Bognor train for ever and ever and ever. When challenged, he lost interest. I am going to be like this. "I am on the brink. Life can't go on" I will text to Alan. When he phones for an explanation I will say "Are you talking to me? Can't seem to choose which Milk Tray chocolate to choose next" and he will say to his family and friends, "Antonia just wanted to get the feeling of not knowing what to do next. Doomed to indecision about her Milk Trays felt as if she was doomed to indecision about Life".

My exhibition, "A Graceful Death", starts on Wednesday. Hiram Burnett is below. He was, as his daughter Cecil says, a character. I think he was in the room with me when I painted this. Cecil was with him when he died, and her account of it is very moving and loving. I hope to include this too, with the painting.

"A Graceful Death"
127 Worple Road, Wimbledon SW20
Wednesday 24 - Sunday 28 February 2010
10 am to 5pm daily
Open Evening Wednesday 24 Feb 6 - 9
Closing Evening Sunday 28 Feb 6 - 9pm

Thursday, 18 February 2010

How Are You All Today? for the latest on the A Graceful Death coming to Wimbledon next week

"Angel Happy With Her Teapots" oil on wood, about 6"x 6". This is me today
Well Then, How Are You All Then, My Hearties?

Good I hope. It is raining, and we are all probably stuck indoors because of it. I know Alan is, he can't play tennis tonight because it is so wet. How about you? Annoyed because you had so many out door activities planned and you can't do any of them? Or you had decided at long last to go and Fell That Blinking Tree, had psyched yourself up and now look at it outside. Rain, drizzle, rain, heavy rain and then rain. Not good for the chain saw, you say, and go back indoors and put on the kettle. Or today was the day you and your dog were going to Go For A Walk. At last, the way was clear, the Mood was Upon You (both). It was going to be a long one, and today was the day you and the dog were going to lose some weight and it would all have been fine if only the goddam rain had not set in and goddam spoilt everything. You and Dog look at each other, by the back door, and feel the cold of the rain seep through the ether to say to you both "Ooooh. Muddy, this kind of rain. Not good for the bones. Or shoes. Or plans to live a long and healthy life. Bit too much like hard work, this kind of rain." So you sigh and say to the dog that you'll both go a bit later when it is less likely to be A Strain. You go and put the kettle on and Dog goes and gratefully falls asleep on the sofa.

Maybe you love the rain. Maybe you can't bear the restriction of the warm dry inside, and long to stride with purpose throught the rain and if you can get it, sleet. Perhaps you are Poetic, or Tough, or A Child Of Nature. Maybe you feel people are not your thing, and Nature is Where You Are At. Maybe you have a poem coming on, and need to have a bit of extreme (ish) weather to get it into gear. Or maybe you like being wet and cold so you can have a hot bath when you get back in and eat more than usual as a reward.

Well, I got onto my bike today, poised and dressed for the weather, only to exclaim with mock exasperation when a drop of rain fell onto my upturned face. "Oh no," I said sternly to myself. "This here is rain, and I will get wet. Oh best take the car". And I did.

Monday, 15 February 2010

Nice Weekend, Started Late Today, With Scrambled Eggs On Toast. The Only Way To Go. for the latest on A Graceful Death in London Feb 24 - Feb 28 for my website to email me

So. About Those Scrambled Eggs

They were wonderful. They came on top of many good dinners and lunches over the weekend, and so I am needing to reign in a bit. Scrambled Eggs make the day go well, they have a mystical power that means that if you eat them, your day will go smoothly and well and there will be World Peace etc. I have eaten mine, and lo. I am in the studio and Womans Hour had a fantastic piece on girls and maths and a nice new drama serial, and Hiram Burnett looks good on the easle, and my gnomes are drying happily. None of that would have happened if I had not had scrambled eggs.

So. My weekend was wonderful. Alan has some lovely tennis club friends, and one such lovely couple asked us to dinner on Saturday night. What a lovely evening we had. The company was always going to be good, I very much like the lady who invited us. I did not really know her husband, but an evening in their house showed him to be as kind and hospitable and interesting as his wife. Really, when I am entertained with such effortless ease and fed such good food, I feel very privilaged. There were another tennis couple there who were great fun too, and lots of jolly stories of Tennis Club Life made me very keen to go and watch the match being played the next morning just to put a face to all these people whose lives I knew so much of.

The only problem in the weekend was that I forgot my lipstick. I never go anywhere without it, and I am much more presentable in it that without it. So as the weekend wore on my mouth became more and more invisible and disappeared completely on Sunday afternoon. I didn't wipe my mouth or wash my face at all from Saturday morning till late Sunday night, so my mouth only faded by degrees. I tried to make my eyes so full of allure and fire and light that no one would need to look anywhere else on my face. People did say "You look Different..." to me and I tried to make my eyes go like the snake's on Disney's "A Jungle Book". "Trusssst in Meeee...." I tried to make them say. Well, no one ran out of the room so I must have distracted them from thinking I was speaking from a mouthless face.

16 Year Old Son has a job at Wagamamas in London. He passed his trial evening with them last night and I am so proud of him. He has a job where he can feed his Mother. We need to discuss Family Discounts with Wagamama. They need to know that family covers USA, Ireland, Canada and UK. Best be up front about it all, and give them a map to help them contact all the Wagamamas world wide.

Enough. Time to paint Hiram Burnett. He is looking good on my easle. Oh, and the frame for the Still Life will be utterly wonderful. Man in the Framing Shop thought it was really unsuitable and too heavy but client and I cried "It can take it! It is a Tough Old Painting, and Full Of Colour! Cut the frame my man, and cease your feeble complaints." And so he did. Cost £80.

Friday, 12 February 2010

Painting And Fiddling And Having Fun for the latest information in A Graceful Death coming to London for my website to email me

Painting and Fiddling and Having Fun

Today is Friday. There is nothing in the diary, nothing in the calendar, there is hour upon hour of Time in this Friday, and it is all mine.This day was booked by me to be simply for painting and listening to the radio and chuckling to myself. It is not necessary to do anything around the house, not important to follow up all the Office Stuff (making brochures, designing invites, organising exhibitions, finding new commissions, going on facebook, googling myself). Today is, officially, Studio Time. Hooray. I even put out my crummiest studio clothes last night, like Black Rod might lay out his best lacey cuffs and neck tie on the chair in his bedroom, and gives his black rod a last going over with a dust cloth and squirt of Mr Sheen, before he has to get up and open Parliament in the morning, I laid out my warmest but most stained old trousers, a nice cotton long sleeved teeshirt that is long enough to tuck into my knickers (to keep my kidneys warm) and a pale green cardigan that is such a lovely colour on me (in case Bill Nighy comes calling) but is perfectly dotted with blue and white paint and a few sweet little holes.

I will paint my Still Life which came back for additional butterflies. That will be finished (again) today. I will paint Hiram Burnett for the A Graceful Death exhibition on 23 Feb see for info.

And if I have time, I will make another Gnome to go with the glorious Lady Gnome I made a few days ago.I may not even answer the phone. It depends. I will however, sing along to whatever takes my fancy, and I will have lots of tea in mood-matching teapots and spotty mugs. There may be a sense of the Last Day of Freedom in all this. Today and Tomorrow is the Beginning of Half Term.

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Garden Gnomes for updates on the A Graceful Death exhibition coming to Wimbledon in February 2010 for my website to email me

Garden Gnomes.

Garden Gnomes. I love them, and want to make them. I have three connections to garden gnomes.

  • On leaving his job as a Director of a Publishing Firm, my magically gifted gardener of a grandfather was given Garden Gnomes. I think he burnt them.
  • Bognor Railway Station has, as it is the end of the line (trainwise), a glorious collection of Gnomes on the track by the ticket barrier. Apparently people jump onto the track and steal the gnomes. That just shows what a Must Have they are, and it also is a rotten thing to do. The Keeper Of The Gnomes at the station really does do a good job.
  • I remember reading in our local paper recently of a pub landlord waking to find a mysterious lorry load of Garden Gnomes had been left in his garden. I have not heard that there was an answer to why this happened or who did it or what was the underlying meaning. If there was one. (Wish they had done it to my garden.)

So I dream of making Garden Gnomes. I can't though, not really because I don't know how to make them weather proof and I have not a kiln and blahdi blahdi blah. So my dear talented deeply creative Graphic Designer friend in Dublin (yes, you) said Make Them Anyway.

Yesterday, I began. I spent such a happy afternoon in my studio fashioning a First Attempt. I put on the heating in the studio bit, placed a very neon fluffy pink cushion on the floor, put in a semi circle around me a tray of tea, my two palette knives, an Arsenal Mug of water and some deeply profound completely alien Norweigian Folk Music, and I began.

To say I was happy was an understatement. I sat squinting at the Thing I was making, working it out as I went along, and sticking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth. It is hard making something out of clay. It is just so slippery, fragile, rubbery and goddamn effortful, but it was Such Fun. When I finished my Thing, she couldn't yet be called a Garden Gnome, but she was the first attempt and therefore very lovely and part of the Learning Curve. She looks like a tiny Stone Age Fertility Symbol with most of the detail weathered away by time. But like I say, she is

  • The first of her kind
  • A prototype
  • Very difficult to do
  • Pretty Fab

And so I am going to do more. If any of you want to commission some Garden Gnomes for Indoors that Don't Look Like Garden Gnomes but are Incredibly Interesting Anyway (and colourful. When she is dry, I will paint her.) let's talk.

A few more snippets of news on the home front -

  • my new pillar box red sofa and two chairs were delivered yesterday. Nothing I own go with their magnificence, I need a whole new house to go with them.
  • 13 Year Old Son's teacher, 13 Year Old Son and I all had a meeting about homework yesterday. Teacher was very good and suggested a good system. It included doing homework. Very succinct, I thought.
  • And, worth mentioning, Lucy from London is taking me to a football match on 9 May. Arsenal v Fulham no less. I will have to tell 13 Year Old Son who is an Arsenal fan and then ask if I can borrow his Arsenal clothes. Insult to Injury.

And finally, my Mother and I are going to Maderia on holiday. The Rolls Girls Abroad. Oh Yes.

Garden Gnomes

Sunday, 7 February 2010

Doing My Blog And Watching TV. Going To Write Hilarious Nonsense for my website for up to date information on the exhibition coming to London in February

Doing My Blog And Watching TV and Going To Write Hilarious Nonsense.

Or not. I am going to have to concentrate very hard indeed as I don't multi task well at all. I am sitting with 13 Year Old Son in the telly room, using his laptop to do my blog. I have eaten lots of crisps and managed some chocolate and forced myself to have some more tea and now there is nothing more to stand in my way and the Blog Must Be Done. I seem to have set myself up to fail a little. But I am a Brit and I will just plug on and look grim and determined and even if I can't remember why I am in this room with this laptop and telly and amazingly addictive yet strangely unsatisfying eatables. What am I doing again?

I had a thought today which I will try and remember (while the film Wall.E scrambles my brain and 13 Year Old Son mounts a running commentary so that I will not be behind with the plot). OK. The thought. I heard a poem on Poetry Please that was so dull and dreary and worthy that it took me about 3 minutes to notice that it was so very heavy it stopped me in my tracks. "Someone" I reasoned to myself, "has written in to Poetry Please requesting this, their favourite poem, and is waiting in a state of fevered expectation to hear it read. Someone, in some quiet suburb of the UK sits with fresh hanky to dab tears from their eye as they are touched beyond measure by this long, wordy and deeply moral poem." This is when I got my thought. "If someone," I mused with gravity and insight, "wanted this poem because they love it, and it is so very turgid (to me), then all over the world there are people who love things I hate and get strength from things that pass my by. There are, in that case, people out there that like Jaffa Cakes, Marzipan, and Coffee." I sat down thoughtfully with washing up suds still on my hands and arms, the washing up forgotten. "In that case, there are even those that will buy and eat Bounty Bars." The list could - and did - go on. It means that the worry I sometimes feel that because I don't like something, it has no value in the world at all, and that in the case of, say, Creme Caramel or Beer, sales will suffer. No one will make a living. People will be unemployed, all the Marketing and Development of the Product will be as For Nothing. But. Someone, somewhere, wrote off for a poem that I can't imagine anyone being allowed to write, let alone understand, let alone even become moved by, so there are Those Out There who beat to a totally different drum to me. Heavens, they may even be indifferent to Tea in Teapots, Spotty Crockery. They may even say with a shrug and an exasperated "Eh? What for? Why on earth would someone even contemplate that" when listening to me talking about dancing to reggae and wearing red lipstick. And liking afternoon tea. And so on.

So that was a lesson in something or other. Possibly as profound as the poem that started the whole thing.

Now, I must get back to Wall.E or I may have another profound moment of enlightenment.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

Birmingham Good, Life Fair To Middling, Seeing Olivia Today for information on the A Graceful Death Exhibition in London in Feb for my website to email me

Birmingham Good, Life Fair To Middling. Seeing Olivia Today

And having tea with my old English Teacher in his lovely cottage this afternoon.

I went to Birmingham for the day yesterday to talk over the A Graceful Death Exhibition going up there. All very positive, and I am very excited about it. When I said to my family that I had an important day in Birmingham and I had to be prepared and rested, it was a big step forward I am really going places blah blah blah my mother said Oh Good, You Can Drop Me Off At My Sisters Sheltered Housing Place. So Mother came too. My beautiful tiny elderly sparrow of an aunt lives in sheltered housing just five minutes from my Important Meeting. Over lunch a few days later with Mother and 19 Year Old Daughter, within the seven and a half minutes it took me to leave the kitchen and come back, Mother had invited Daughter too. "A Holiday!" they cried, "Let's go to Birmingham!" So my important business trip meant taking the family too. "You don't mind", they said to me with fire in their eyes and a fun itinerary evolving at lightening speed between them, "do you?" The wrong answer would have been Yes You Damned Relations, I Do! Take The Train Like The Rest Of Humanity, but I not only didn't say that, I didn't feel it either. I said Oh Good We'll Have Fun. And thought well, I would love to see Alan taking his son and brother on a business trip so they could have a knees up in a sheltered home with a teeny tiny sparrow of an aunt who is as beautiful as a china doll. Maybe he was never asked.

It was a good move in the end. Mother paid for our motorway food stops and knows Birmingham like the back of her hand. She probably saved the day by getting me there safely and without complications, and Daughter and Mother are like a Gang of Two, they are the same person despite the 60 year age difference. They were going to have fun Whatever.

Back now. Life Fair to Middling. Mustn't grumble. Got lunch at Oliva's today, always a good thing. She will make me feel good again. Then a walk across the hills and woods where she lives and back here in time to go for tea with a gracious and delightful friend in his cottage. He was my old English Teacher many centuries ago in my sixth form. He and his wife live a bike ride from here, and tea there is always a proper tea. China cups, buttered toasted teacakes, log fire and lots of talk on cricket. At midday today, I will willingly enter the storm of Olivia's life and times deep in the countryside and tell her everything that is in my mind and heart, and she will do the same. We will walk like D H Lawrence characters through the woods and hills around her home and gardens, feeling the earth beneath our feet and the trees standing tall and wild etc etc etc. I will then get into my car and go home and gently re enter earth's atmosphere and by the time I arrive at my tea appointment I will have undergone the equivalent of three months thereapy, an all night party and a walk through a howling gale in the moors. I will be calm (exhausted) and well behaved and very hungry.

So. Until midday now, I must do my Thing. Invites to get out, adverts to place, Birmingham to write up and expenses to claim. Meetings to plan people to call and all that jazz.

Before I go, I want you to look up a fantastic blog which I highly recommend. Go to . I know Mrs Smith and she is very witty indeed. And she is a very very good artist so don't believe her if she tries to say she isn't. And she is not fat so don't believe that either.

Now. On with the show.

Monday, 1 February 2010

Nothing Comes Of Nothing, Speak Again for the latest on the A Graceful Death exhibition coming to London in Feb for my website to email me

Nothing Comes Of Nothing, Speak Again

King Lear said something approximating this when speaking to his daughter Cordelia. In that context, in Shakespeare's play "King Lear", he had many lessons to learn and discernement and humilty were amongst them. Pretty awful way to go about learning them though. Enough about Shakespeare, and on to the Real Stuff. Me.

We all know that if we do nothing, then nothing will happen. Thats obvious (sort of) and we all know this with a merry little smirk. But, if we want something - a result of some sort - and we are very busy, and still nothing happens, what then? Some points.

  • We are busy doing the wrong things. So are we doing nothing? Yes and no. We are doing much about something else, but nothing about our desired result
  • If we are busy about the Result we want, do we automatically get it? Ha. Maybe yes, maybe no.
  • Is it possible that the Nothing that comes from Nothing is indescriminate? If we give the Nothing (because we have not started to do anything about it yet. Once we do something, it is no longer a Nothing etc etc)a name and call it, for example, A Graceful Death at Saatchis, and work flat out at getting it and do not succeed, that is a Nothing that has come from Something.
  • Or whatever you do, if you are doing Something, then Something will happen. Like the Saatchi A Graceful Death thought - the exhibition doesn't happen, but lots of other things do. In that case, the Nothing is indescriminate. In that Something does happen if you don't do Nothing.
  • Shall we all have a couple of paracetamol and a lie down?

I am asking all this because I am as A Ship Tossed At Sea at the moment. I have many things to do and many things to think of. I have said this before, that I am an Artist yes, but I am many other things too such as a Mother, Partner, Friend, Taxi, Cook, Chief Bottle Washer, Hamster on a Wheel etc. But what to do first and what to do anyway about anything?

Here are some facts.

  • I have an exhibition I want to show the world (A Graceful Death) on at Clarissa De Wend Fenton's house at the end of Feb. Fab. Please come. See the weblink at the top of this page.
  • I go to Birmingham to take A Graceful Death to be displayed over Easter. This will include giving a talk on the paintings, which I welcome. Tomorrow I am going to Birmingham for the day to look over the venue and talk Business.
  • A few shops in Chichester are happy to take my greetings cards. Thank you, nice shops.
  • I am putting up adverts for Art For The Nervous around the place and look forward to making people probably over confident and hitting the other extreme.
  • I am going to paint pets. I can paint animals and will be looking into doing that as a fun way of earning a penny.
  • At the Birmingham exhibition I will be showing my Jesus on the Tubes too, and have designed a brochure about me me me, that may or may not excite someone into commissioning a Jesus on the Tube painting and immortalising themselves pictorially next to the Son of God. And why not. With a Jesus on the Tube, you can have a Jesus of your choice too. A custom made one, to suit your family. Oh this is a whole new blog, I think. Is Jesus Custom Made To Suit Your Family? Discuss.
  • I have many fleeting ideas that are a wonder to see floating around my head. One of them involves the Wonderful Eileen and I going to USA and doing a book on Tea. Other ideas involve Garden Gnomes.

So now. I just looked up this Nothing coming from Nothing quote and it seems that "Nothing comes from nothing" is a quote from Parmenides, a Greek Philosopher. What Lear says to Cordelia is "Nothing will come of nothing: speak again". Both are kind of appropriate for today's blog.

The thing is, I am not doing nothing, and something is happening. But do I want the things coming because of me doing something? Or am I longing for another something and am doing Nothing about getting that? Ha. That is it. Displacement Somethings Create Nothing About The Thing You Really Want. So nothing does come of nothing if there is a focus one is avoiding, and one is not focussing, and something always comes of something, even if it is fiddling around avoiding other issues.

I expect we all need fifteen minutes off now in a darkened room with Whale Music and a box of chocolates. All this Something and Nothing stuff makes me hungry.