Attractive.

Attractive. 

..>My words,in 2013,and these ''here''edited in 2016<<..

This week in a discussion i used the word attractive,however as intuitive as i am and aware of the connotations of the word ,it sparked me to Think and to hold a little thoughtful moment,it then fuelled this blog post.
Around certain crowds/cliques,perhaps immature,perhaps shallow,perhaps vain, perhaps so self absorbed or ignorant, as to not see further than the original word. "Attractive" as a word conjures up an initial ideal,yet it may not have been in its correct context,context in art is as important as the artwork itself ,sometimes more so,even. 
Its "attractive" to be assured, to be full of ones own identity,its scary and at times intimidating.The Truth hurts ,the Truth is shut up,do not speak the Truth,it will be a alienating experience ,but the good and the brave will come through.

What is Art,art is an urge a fire in the belly, an itch one can't scratch but there is a need for it to be done to be fulfilled. Art is in my blood but there are points that it would be easier had it not been kindled. Imagine creating a fine dining experience,de-veining a goose liver,preparing the best brioche, all buttery, ever.Envisage creating a decent veal stock,tenderly skimming it of its impurities,nursing it with red wine and caramelised veal bones and onions, reducing it to a glistening shimmer on a plate.gently but swiftly and finely slicing the sinew off a prime Filet de Beouf. try shaping a cylindrical and finely sliced potato for buttery pommes anna ,then nurturing a poached pear and glacial chocolate sauce,all the while with simmering salted water ready for the fine beans to be cooked al dente. Time all this to perfection plate it and get it all out as a delightful 3 course meal,perfect all on time and all at its precise and optimum moment served with finesse and guile,impeccable. Now,imagine all this is done and is met with silence,perhaps with some cheap tomato ketchup,no recognition of 2 days labour,almost a sucking of teeth and a look of oh where's the chips,this is standard,its then not even eaten. That's how it feels to create a painting,a picture,a work of art,all guts and no delectation on ones palate,yet its still done,each time with more belief,with strength,but each time creating a little humility.
There has to be a belief,there has to be an assured and unreserved notion that what one is creating is what one believes in. Each picture,whether it is a 5 minute sketch or a month long arduously analysed and much thought over thousand brush stroked painting,its all done with the notion that it will always be Art and always need to be seen. The concept,the context will always be of major importance,further fuelling its place as Art.Who created it ,why did they create it,what is it ,why is it,where is it,where does it sit.

Who is an Artist,an artist is one who simply accepts that moniker,they're assured enough,firm enough,confident enough in their own resolution to be an "Artist". This notion is far more "attractive",than a doubtful,undecided,fraught,tumultuous, indisciplined tryer.

Definitions of Attractive as per online dictionaries.

Having the power to attract.
pleasing to the eye or mind.
arousing interest,an attractive opportunity.
possessing th ability to draw or pull/an attractive force.
Providing pleasure or delight,esp,in appearance or manner.charming,alluring.
Having the power to arouse interest,"an attractive opportunity,the job is attractive because of the pay.
able to attract interest or favourable attention,an appealing sense of humour,
Having qualities or features which arouse interest.

Learn something new everyday.

                 Learn something new everyday.

Sometimes, so simply and so sweetly, we are reminded of what it is that inspires us,that which gets our creative juices going. On a particularly wet and dour Sunday afternoon I was flicking the channels and Julia Roberts was trying to teach those which I find  familiar, the stuck up and truly one sighted views of pomp.There was Ms Roberts,teaching that which i had been taught 6 years ago the cave paintings of old.It was,however the work of Chaim Soutine which really provoked my interest,and boom there i was googling an artist i had yet to study,and so it was i was here,writing on this blog and being  reminded of the journey of Art.


                               
Oh the controversy,  http://www.andrewgrahamdixon.com/archive/readArticle/153 ,but controversy today everywhere,even in the tabloids we may or may not,no longer read at our breakfast.

Without that of Andy Warhol we may not have the pop and celebrity that so stains our souls and conscience.Pop Culture we have much to thank for,Reality Tv,Big Brother,stained walls of graffiti. A dress worn by a global superstar and her favourite Tea cup.
Is Gaga mad,some may say so,but I see weight behind her skirting beef dress,we are meat, we are money if the moneys right ,Gaga is money. I still remember seeing the disdain and hate for the dress,the horror in the tabloid press,but here it is all linked together in a few sentences and pictures on a blog, by me ,I see it,a journey,a journey I am on, not always readily accepted,but accepted nonetheless.

From one carcass to another,from a possiblity out of ecoli, a paparazzi led shopping excursion,we have  the carcasses of  a point of others beauty that which is the difference of opinion.the differences of a state of being.The twisted forms of a man/woman's difference in thinking.

The femininity of being classed as a piece of meat,the pieces of meat that are paid for on street corners all day and every night.Men and women, women as men and men as women,cocks and stubble and all.

Jenny Saville.

Damien Hirst.

From a carcass painted in the early 20th century,before the world was devastated by the horrendous acts of 1939-1940,before even the much lauded Britart of Tony Blair and his Iraq invasion sparked by chemicals not snorted up a nose.We have the new carcass not on canvas but the real deal ,preserved for all time in a glass filled vitrine.

And so it is, a wee blog post sparked because i watched Julia Roberts in her 25 million dollar performance teaching that which has been taught to me.

 As a lady say's,,,,,,,,applause...

Another year,but,still daft.

Despite being a post~graduate,sharing a birthday with the enterprising 'D Cameron',despite "wanting" 2 seek my fortune in the great smoke,despite the compassionate actions of cuz's ,this time last year i was begging and performing on the streets,sleeping in cardboard boxes and using fast food chains as my morning wash~room,had i waited 4 the red tape to be crossed,the enterprising upper echelons to have got me help well,it may have been a wait 2 long. This time last year even with a certain element of social media savvy,it was'nt possible to get on here,the updates could've been so enlightening and pictures an eye~opener,still,im glad 2 be here now. I am a year older and still just as daft,but daft with a roof over my head,No thanks 2 the enterprising man who shares my B'day.

Quick post.observation.

They left something where they went apparently and picked it up from where they did'nt go,but had to buy a new one ,however they did'nt buy a new one as they left it at the place they did'nt go,,and people believe it.

Not 2 happy.

Someone obviously weren't too happy,with their fella/lady,maybe they were pissed at the world. Perhaps,they'd been sacked,perhaps their dole hadn't gone thru,maybe Dad had cut em off,from their trust. Bad haircut,missed opportunity,shit job interview,they weren't happy,and at me maybe ,or simply just you. Nevertheless,i left a response 2.

They say.

Don't give up,don't give up they say,with their chaffeur driven taxis and ipad. They're all italian meatballz w basil and iced top o the line white wine. 
Don't give up,we can see ,we can see with credit cards and 3 times a week restaurant visits,we can see with private diners and members clubs,we can see with dad to call on upon for rent and Jimmy choos.
Don't give up they say from leather sofas and minimal canal viewed apartments,don't give up they say,a doorway is pain to grow from.
Don't give up they say,when heels are a problem coz of plasters,don't give up ,coz they can see,the light may be fading, the light may be flickering the light may be on,but it may be so near and so so,quite far away...........

lightz.

Winterz come early,summers easy with its late nights and BBQ in the plush yard.Get ya gloves and get ya scarf,pickled pinchy nipples and elf~like frozen ears, did ya pack ya peas and Tesco Chardonnay,and logs in the poop bin or the lush fur trimmed fire~place. Rock off or on,a light will glimmer or fade.

Art is money,however, the money is distributed amongst those who deem it worthwhile?. Art is soul~food,a force from within that has no barrier to creed, wealth, nor is it socially exclusive .Joseph Beuy's said "everyone is an artist" are they ?and  Martin Kippenberger saying"every Artist is a human being",Art is a belief and a way that only the artists them selves know its personal internal origins, yet its a language that is spoken to the world. An artist is an artist that accepts it wholeheartedly and from a place within. Art is a power, a power that speaks and lasts through the ages its form from paintings in caves to wheels in galleries is well documented, yet its a form that can be deemed only for the few,only for those that understand, that are in the right place or born with the right  spoon and heredity in their mouths and being. Yet all can create and there are those whom create from a place deep where many souls dare go,but its not seen,its not for the assembled elite,its not of pretention and not in a place where the deal makers nor the money makers want to go.Its a thing for those who have the time,the facilities and faculties to show,however that is here to show,as fallacy.
Art is power,its an empowering fact of expression and talent, a flick of a brush and dart of a line.Some are born into,many are born with it,yet few can go through with it,its a form to follow through good and bad.art is not a form that is only for those with the ways and means, but those who believe,believe in art ,those who see it from the pit of their soulz,its ours ,its our power.
The connection from where a soul not deemed with the spoon,but deemed with the talent, with the goal and the dream is the connection, a connection from here to paper, to pen, to canvas and  from photo to blog, Art iz for all,art is power,"Art & Power".

All I can do.

Someone whom took a pic of my work, asked 2day,"have you got a trademark or copyright" No was my answer,they then said " oh,i have it as a screensaver,looks great ". That's why i am just a bloke as an unemployed chef, a level of humility is all i can do, i guess.

as...

Some people either say and share their constants of well being and contentment,or they simply just keep it as it is, and for me sometimes it is or would seem shit,but at least its better and at least it is ,as it is.

Interest thats disinterest.

If interest sparksz judgement and nothing,nothing coupled with disinterest,no connection yet unsocial action but social interest,then there iz nothing,so nothing to be here 4. Sad that connections untied due 2 unwanted connections via other connectionz. C.

DId you,are you.

Sit in a field.

Sit in a field,sit in a field ,on your own for a week,a month even,.Take only your soulful,divinely given gifts,what are they talent ? mascara,a TV a laptop,your pride,bosoms,a shapely arse,whatever it is take just that and the clothes on your back. Sit there alone,what will you eat,where will you eat,.
your mother aint there for hugs nor reassurance,your partner aint there,there aint a member of the opposite sex for esteem building exercise.you don't have your favourite teddy,you don't have your latest i@phone,with abundant apps.
There is no@ne beneath or below you,no superiority or seniority,to gauge where you are,there's no inflation from an act of self seeking joy. no~ ones there to tell you that they love you, no~one is there to say you're ok,you're good and mean something to us all.
Now fucking Sit there ,don't moan just rest,just take it all in,its all you have.
Just fucking Sit there,,,,,,just fucking sit there,can you,would you ,you have to.
Now,,,,,,,,,,, would you return ,would you return intact,would you !
& then tell us all you're alright,now tell us all you  follow your dreams,your divinely given desires.
you're wonderful,just fucking sit there.

Who am I,Who R you, 2 ,.................

Reality.

Its just reality 4 today,when does encouragement become an unresolved ambition and external driving force ,driven crazy,some have it, some don't. Its just reality today,don't mean its given up,its just reality dear,as clear as the door that's open or closed.Its just reality.

Morning 4 Sunday the 8th and the 8th in November.

There Is a crisp (metallic) chill to the sun tinged air,autumns on its way.Excitement produces a high of actions & kneeling and bowing to everyday acts ,on a path to a downward cliff,a blast of air will put paid to that .The air in the home is that through the windows,yet the air is different and cheaper,its breath comes with thinking.Surreality tosses a coin and its either when and where or here and there. Offer or refuse.

#GOOD MORNING.

                                                                           
                                                                  GOOD MORNING.............
The debate between genuinely wishing you all a good morning, and seeing its futility in that to do so would be needed every~morning, surely its a natural thing everyday and morning,we don't always feel like wishing good morning every morning,but still that don't stop us from our core being soulfully caring,besides it would be boring and its not really social media savvy to update with a good morning every morning,is it.

Inches away....

inches away....

Did you know that if you lost your job,you'd have no money and if you had no money you'd not have the rent.you'd have no home.Your Bbq would simply sit on its patio with the next nuclear love~ums and their tea.You'd be nothing in the eyes of the have~ums,you'd be shit like. you'd be rooing the day you looked @ the hims or the hers and thinking they know shit. coZ without what you have,you dear,well,your shit 2 .still.x

Grayson Perry.

Grayson Perry.
All the colours of character and personality, a man yet a man liking to be a woman, a flamboyant opinionated and for inspiring artists whom i have called upon for influence throughout my journey into Art.

Grayson Perry.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1928779/Pictures-of-the-day.html?image=6

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/art-features/10117264/Grayson-Perry-Taste-is-woven-into-our-class-system.html

http://poplifer.com/2012/08/03/class-act-grayson-perrys-vanity-of-small-differences/

On his Death~bed.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
were you proud to cut him to the quick
there's a child wanting,that cries for you

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
is god there now,feast upon your daisy, the cow.
the landlord pulls the pint,a fag~butt burns.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
a man stands wanting,looking for a fight.
a dog cowers ,hiding in the night.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
a church bell chimes,a word that rhymes.
a canary sings,for its seed.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
the recluse wants to be free,the big lad deflated.
this fucking rejoice,a blast of waste.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear
his eyes look up to seek good grace.
ride pillion on the back,a wind of care.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
4 pounds ya cockney for a steak.
say to his face,his syrup a fake.

Look back my dear,i'll bend your ear.
there were cheers of ale and a fete,but once a year.
you were there to protect her flower.

~what is art. what?,,,CONCEPTS,PROCESSES AND EVOLUTIONZ.

MY ENGLISH GARDEN,1 THRU 2,2,TOO....

MY ENGLISH GARDEN.1 THRU 2 2,TOO..

 approximately a year ago, i embarked on my own likkle installation in my back garden, it was a project to set up my own English Garden, based on what I found ,what is left in the garden of England ,what's wasted ,what I found and what grew from it. a story of a process, from one found object to the weeds and insects that come to pass, an apple~plugged in, get it?

This was to be documented with photographs, the photographs creating further art, becoming the art, what photos would I get, what would prove interesting. It was done with a sense of satire on Art ,But also with a real seriousness. Conceptual art born from bits and pieces in the garden.

The first 4 pictures here were some results of this document of leftovers and scum.

MY ENGLISH GARDEN 2 TOO,,,2,,,.X

 I am currently an Artist without the luxury of studios and means beyond my means , so I make do, my previous experiment proved interesting ,garnering visceral results so I've embarked on it again, my back garden once more being my installation of dumping ground history, i hope to evolve it a little more and see what the summer and autumn brings.

Some people think me mad, maybe? what do we do, we do, simply!

July the 5th and its growing,but where? 

 July 6th,a representation of home,@home but not '' in'' home. Bamboo and Pandas,little ponds,walls in front, and the shadows that are cast,''Time''2 finish or a collection to grow,breathe.

July the 9th,the suns out,the sun shines on the dark,the shadows tower and  breathe,having a home still a luxury,however the suns nice to sleep out in,drink plenty of water.

                                                                             
                                                                                       

                                                   MORTGAGE PRICES ARE TOO HIGH.

                                                                               SMILE...

Outta weedz come Beautiful thingz. 01/08/2013.

connected,what's the connection?. What do you have ,do you know what you have?

From here to there,what you find,finders keepers.We are commodities,your commodities end up on the scrap heap,some of us end up on a scrap heap.where have you been what did you see,what did you save.Do you eat well,do you manage where others excel, a one pound ready meal made from horses or a six pound steak and an extra tenner for a half decent meal.Do you enjoy yourself with impunity or do you risk it all for a wee bit of fun, the differences are obvious, yet you don't see them.

Some~ones made their home,catch and caught.