A very full day of second year fine art tutorials, art history lectures, and pastoral engagements. On such an occasion I must, at the outset, catch the wave of energy that’s heading for the shore. Without it, the day will be a grind. Absenteeism is guaranteed to wrong-foot my determination in this respect.

Some principles and observations derived from today’s encounters and reflections:

• The wise learn from their folly.
• Hard work doesn’t guarantee achievement; achievement doesn’t guarantee recognition; and recognition doesn’t guarantee fulfilment.
• Good teaching derives not from what the teacher knows, but from what they’ve understood through experience.
• Punctuality is a small sign that’s indicative of large attitudes, such as earnestness, self-discipline, forethought, and courtesy.
• It should be the tutee and not the tutor who drives the tutorial.
• It’s possible to have a good idea either for the wrong artwork or at the wrong time.
• A small change can effect a huge difference.
• Tutorials should be an occasion for reflection leading to understanding, and not merely for instruction and criticism. It’s not enough to do well; one must also comprehend better what one has done.
• Art history is also your history in relation to art.
• The question: Do I really want to be an artist?, may yet be unresolved. This is not a cause for concern. It reflects a crisis of identity rather than of commitment. And, the question may occur again and again, long after you’ve become an artist.
• Sometimes the finished artwork exceeds our intent, because our intent was insufficiently ambitious.
• What don’t I know? What needn’t I know? What shouldn’t I know?

‘When I rise to worlds unknown’ (Augustus Toplady):

A representative from the Tell Us Now team ‘hit’ the British Landscape class at 11.10 am, and were due to make a show at Art in Wales for 2.10 pm … but didn’t.

After lunch, I’d time to catch up on module admin (uploads, registers, and correspondence), advise a provisional registree, dispatch replies to postgraduate applications, and attend to several one-off tutorials. By chance, towards the close of the day, I bumped into Beth Fletcher and her fiancée, who were exploring the Handel Evans exhibition. I’d not seen her since 2004, when she completed her MA Fine Art degree with us. Beth is a formidable, lyrical landscape painter:

In the evening, I reviewed part of a dissertation submission, caught up with emails, set the cassette-tape migration machine in motion, and worked on the Aural Diary catalogue entries. I’ve got as far as 1999, and my trip to Colorado Springs, USA: