My on-line diary began in the 1990's from my studio in the North of England. After a lapse of ten years, I resumed posting from my present studio on the Caribbean island of Dominica.

From the far beginning, the intention has been to give an insight into my working methods, and to share the triumphs, trials and tribulations of work-in-progress.

My diary pages are followed by thousands of artists, art students and art lovers in over 50 countries.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

He died from too much living


When I am finally called upon to embellish the gates of heaven with angles, kindly remember to chip on my grave stone, “He died from too much living”.   In the hereafter, rather than resting in peace, I hope to be up to as many tricks as I have been in this world.

One of my daughters once screamed at me to, “Get a life!”  Well, if I haven’t had a life, I don’t know who has.  Set against your average eighteen year old, I’m living life as if there's no tomorrow. 


It is therefore refreshing to occasionally meet an eighteen year old who is likewise, bubbling with life like crazy.  Such was my good fortune when I was recently booked to give a talk to students at the Dominica State College.  Regardless of the arrangements made beforehand, there was no one to meet me or set up the auditorium. 


To my rescue came an unforgettable biology student by the name of Umarie, henceforward known as “Frazzy” on account of her zany hair style.  With the words, “leave it to me”, she literally dragged her fellow students in by the scruff of the neck. 


She afterwards volunteered to sit for one of my portrait classes.  Thank you Frazzy,  you’ll take pride of place amongst the my angles.  In the meantime, here’s the five-minute demonstration sketch that I made of her.


PS. Come back again, you kept my students awake!

Sunday, November 10, 2013

If anyone else tells me to .... .. !!!!



I am not insured, I do not have a pension, I have nothing put aside for a rainy day, I have never paid into a funeral fund and I've never “backed-up”.

Since my computer crashed five days ago, I've lost count of the number of times I've been told to “back-up”.  I'm getting sorely tempted to tell them to .... ... !!!! 

The same people that tell me to “back-up” laugh at my cell phone. It's twelve years old and still going strong. Unlike the slim new models, it has a battery powerful enough to jump start my pick-up. My flash-drive is of the same vintage and it's been twice through the washing machine. The clock on the wall has been ticking away for a hundred years and at seventy I can give most eighteen-year-olds a run for their money.  Why, oh why, did my trusted Windows XP lap-top give up the ghost so soon?
 
While someone tries to salvage what's on my old hard drive, I'm trying to find my way around the new-fangled lap-top on the right.