Morning. Late January 2011. Botallack Moor.
Sitting at a desk in a small self-contained guest-building next-door to the Hilton’s coastal cottage.
Images of sketches.
And lots of letters. The Night Letters.
A list of rules.
Rules for painting.
And rules for living.
Don’t begin until you know what to do.
Back to the books.
Just don’t fuck it up.
Make it good.
Make it very good.
Don’t try and make a successful painting or drawing – that is of no interest.
Seek rather to learn something.
If you don’t get a clear message do nothing.
Look up. Listen.
Look out of the window.
A large metal sculpture in the garden.
Then the cliffs of Botallack.
Then the Atlantic.
And then horizon.
Never force yourself to do something. It either happens or it doesn’t.
But what if…
And he could…
Which would mean that…
Turn on the radio. Radio 3 – already tuned in.
No idea what piece.
It’s dramatic… Dad would have known.
Soft voice of a lady.
Painting is a personal thing like a shit or a fuck – it’s what it means to you. Faith and truth are everything.
Read. Note. Look. Laugh.
Underline. Copy. Tweak.
Read. Laugh. Sketch. Wonder. Laugh.
It’s not so much a question of what you put in but what you leave out… same in life.
Stop. Breath. Think.
No, don’t think.
Tell me the time.
The time is Botallack O’Clock…
A desert island list.
Clues… Songs… A soundtrack?
Rely on your instinct. If you think of one thing, do something else.
Pour a glass of wine.
It’s midday now.
Roll a fag.
Light it inside.
Gale. Cliffs. Coast. Expanse.
Come on… Back to desk. Here we go.
Don’t drink and smoke too much
and lay off the nudes.
Look up. Cliffs. Sea. Sky. Nudes? If only…
Oh. I see.
Lots of breasts.
Lots of pubes.
Or is it a gherkin?
No, it’s a sausage.
And so many animals.
That’s a tiger.
A crocodile eating…
And a bear…
Or is it?
And the colours…
I believe colours can be made to speak.
Vibrant. Playful. Simple. Dense.
Words and art don’t go together.
And never write about your about your inner artistic mechanisms.
I’m trying not to…
And don’t try and make use of styles that are against your own temperament
I’m in London. It’s January 2016. Done.
Botallack O’Clock is on at the Old Red Lion Theatre from 12th January to 6th February. Book tickets and find out more here.