9.00 am. I released and advertised The Floating Bible sound piece on line. 10.00 am. With the morning’s second cup of tea at my elbow, I then crawled back into my rewrites:
11.00 pm. Once you begin to discover new perceptions in relation to the topic of the text, the writing takes off. In the absence of such moments of insight, the task is like polishing the brass. A third cuppa:
1.30 pm. I put together two, postcard size images for the Artism, open-themed exhibition based in Aberaeron Comprehensive School in March, held to raise money for students with autism. All works will be sold for £1. (But a sale is a sale.) Mr Garrett is acting as our School of Art liaison. My pieces are miniature prints of two oil on panel paintings: ‘Psalm 22: Builded as a City that is Compacted Together’ (2000/2015) [top], and ‘The First Day’ (Gen. 1. 1-5) (2007/2015) [bottom]. Now my pictures really do resemble barcodes (as they are sometimes unfairly maligned):
2.10 pm. Back to the polishing and listening to the R B V E Ǝ T N Ƨ O A suite. One should should no more write about sound art or music in the absence of the artefact than about visual art without an illustration to hand. Never trust your memory, even of your own work. And one must never stop ‘listening’ to one’s own work; it has always something more to teach you. You change, even if it doesn’t (deterioration apart); and, as a result, your relationship with the work matures and alters. Things that you once hated you may grow to love, and vice versa. However, a work’s attitude to you remains loyally consistent: unalloyed indifference.
3.50 pm. No. 4:
5.00 pm. I’ve not achieved all that I set out to do, but have done what was needed; and the chapter is the better for it. Pull down the blinds! 6.20 Practise session 1. 7.30 pm. An evening with the family.