It's got to the stage of the week now where I start talking to myself. Not just muttering profanities but openly discussing things with myself. I have been here four days. I think this is normal when Albert doesn't really answer back and the only person I spoke to yesterday was the coalman and his accent was unfathomable. It's not something I worry about - in fact I feel fully engaged with myself now - the work is flowing, I feel confident with it. I am missing Ruth and the kids but I'll be back with them tomorrow night. They understand. Peter has been telling Ruth that lot's of his friends Daddies live in different houses to them. Amateur psychologists on here are welcome to send me their thoughts.
I finished painting for the week late last night. Probably when you were all tucked up with your malty drinks. I do have another thirty or so hours here but I need time for it all to dry enough to transport back home. I'll do some more collage work today and I have to practice clay model for a couple of the art workshops I'm hosting over the summer. I may even go for a really decent walk this afternoon if the weather holds. There may even be a pub or two at the end of it.
I've put a few pictures up for your scrutiny below. None are finished pieces. It's mostly groundwork at the moment - I'll add the next layer and maybe some finer details in a few days when this layer is dry. And they may of course change completely.
Paul
collage in action
the one about a traditional folk dance that gets out of hand
the one about an alpine village experiencing an incident
the one about a disco on a cruise ship
the one about secret swimming and sirens
the one about the lido
the one about a jam jar with some flowers in it