Tuesday 18th July 2006

Why do we write when words are lost
And moments can't be found
To pick up my pen and write
What do i hope to find?

To find the stillness of the soul
And the passing of time
To find the softness of life
And mercy in the mind

Why do we look around?
To think, ponder, and supply.




Is it a natural disease to wonder and to think?

As we question every breath
Every move
And every sound

Do we suffocate ourselves in our own curiosity?

For if it is an illness
Will we fight and overcome curiositys spell
Or choose to live content with blinkerd knowledge

Will we fight and die in war
In search of peace that answers bring

To be a man who lived
And found death
Or a man who lived
And found a new world.




I lie at night
And wait
Cacooned in the vision of greatness
A vivid illustration of all i can achieve
In that moment i believe

Because in my vision and mind
Each cell of my brain
Tells me i can become anything
To a possibility of accomplishing everything

I can lie
To be a hero or a God
A mother or an infant
Eternal even dead
I can create a masterpiece
And paint no end

Because in dreams and the
Stillness of the night
In the subconcious of the mind
The fact of mortality
And the fault of humanity
Does not live.



She leaves my room
After i've promised in echoed whispers not to move
To lie cacooned tightly in the sheets
I'm not allowed to move an inch

As i lie in the stillness
Everything stops
My mind clears
My shadow from the moonlight doesnt creep

But time still moves and ticks.




Life is not how many years you lived
Or how many days you walked the roads

Life is in the moments
When you are concious you are alive

The times and places
That even dreams can not survive

That is to be alive

A life is not something you can imagine
Or by following a great man there

Life is purpose, perspective, potential
That man can not just dream

But when God takes us by the hand
And for at least one moment
We let go of humanity
And everything we 'know'.

Tuesday 29th March 2005

13:11 - Thinking about the lamanated sheets that i have. And how i can display them? initial thought was to display them in the form of a book, as everything else is. Although had the thought to put them into a frame so that they would become more like a sculpture. The viewer could them look through them, walk around them, becomes more physical.
To extend this idea, perhaps for the final show, i could put the pieces in-between two sheets of glass, and stood at 5ft on two wooden legs.

Thursday 10th March 2005

15:29 - Organisation, layout, interpretation, meaning, inspiration, quiet, calm, silence, reflection, thought.
Life in thought, strength, beauty.
I rest my case.
Rest my case against what?
15:33 - Hammering, hit hit hit hit hit htithnthithtit htit htit hit bang bang baangn loud, force, power tap tap tap tap tap tap light footsteps as someone walks down the metal steps Hum hum humming of music from portable stereo. Voices from room next door. Door shuts. Tap. Whistling as someone walks from one door to the next. rustling of paper. Brrr of car engine outside. Sliding of doc martins as someone walks across floor. I am asked if i want to go and watch a canvas burn. I decline.
15:37 - I yawn. Eyes water. Scratch my nose with right hand. Chewing gum has lost its taste.
To think is to know
Knowing is thinking
Thought is genius
And that's all nonsense.
16:01 - What do i carry with me all the time? Burdens and things to do. Carry rocks with me where ever i go. In my arms balance them. Bringing burdens from inside out. Make it physical. Is it possible to physically hold them all the time, whilst still doing everything i need to do?
Song playing - Searching for a heart of gold.
22:15 - IT'S A WELL KNOWN FACT THAT PROTONS ARE PURPLE.
AIR IS YELLOW.
Is it wrong to say these things? Would they be classed as a lie? Who is to say that i am wrong. These things can not be seen by the human eye. But then how am i right? - i can't see it. So perhaps there is a chance that i could be. What colour would protons and electrons be.
22:34 - Colour is just colour.

Tuesday 8th March 2005

12:49 - I went to the white horse at Sutton Bank this morning. I wanted to progress this idea of turning it into a zebra. I went to see if it was too steep or feasible to do, and the size of it. I ended up roughly measuring it in footsteps.
Horizontally from head to tail: 150 footsteps
Vertically from top of body to tail: 16 footsteps
Vertically from top of body to feet: 32 footsteps
Vertically from top of body to bottom: 15 footsteps.
White horse - yea right. I realised just how grey it is. So if i am going to do it with bin liners, will have to use white and black bin liners to make to contrast greater. I will also have to go up again to take more accurate measurments, so that i can have it all prepared to roll out. I don't want to be up there long. To keep the bin liners down, will have to put rocks inside the bin liners, and maybe use a nail gun at tops and bottoms of horse.
Possible to roll bin liners from top, and have someone at the bottom. It's too steep to have someone walking down it.
With more accurate measurments and planning i really feel like this could work. Hopefully in the next too weeks. Need to wait for snow to go, as it was covering the head.

Monday 7th March 2005

14:57 - Pen squeeks.
I'm always thinking, always writing, word after word after - as if these words are going to somehow save me.
EMPTINESS IS MEANINGLESS
Does life ever scare you, it scares me. How do you explain the confusion of knowing what to do but never doing it.
15:57 - I'm just so confused about what i want out of my art.
What do i want it to mean, what do i want to do with it. Why am i doing what i am doing? And why am i not doing what i should be doing...ART.
And here we go again - what is art?
How come i am where i am with my ideas. Art flows, it has a start and then it gets rough, once things come into it, it's hard to get them out. You just have to flow with them.

Wednesday 2nd March 2005

11:38 - What are words? And what are ideas? I continually write words and ideas down. Why? Is it just to prove that i can actually think. We write things down so that we will actually remember them, so is that a certainty that if i don't write something down i will forget it. I don't think i write these things down for me, but for tutors and examiners - a way for them to get inside my mind. Do they even understand these jumbled words when they do read them?
14:04 - By writing our names over and over do we slowly begin to erase it (pavel buchler) erasing our identity by writing it too much. Could we repeat everything we write, speak, movements we make, until it becomes worthless, meaningless. Or would it take a different turn and become more profound. Everyday do exactly the same thing.
Hahahhannahmunzehahanmhannahmunzerhannahmuzerhanmunzerhahnnahannahmunzer
15:18 - Ideas come to use when we are in a subconcious state of mind. In a state of boredom or past thinking. We can then just do something and things can flow and develop in an unexpected way.

Wednesday 23rd February 2005

01:13 - Our world, life, love
I crave for beauty
I crave for passion
I crave for obbsession
For life after life
Love that never dies
Beauty that never fades.
01:18 - My words are lost my thoughts are found.
01:20 - The breaths of men played a duo with the tick tock of the corner clock.
01:24 - Can love be pure when also bound
With ropes and knots above the ground
I loved a man who tied more knots
Until i was squashed and squashed
in the foss and dirt and mud, where neatless stung
my skin like buzzing bees, constant and pounding
as if i were inside a bloody heart beat.
13:55 - I've just done a painting of a bottle of red poster paint. I look at it now and think that it's wrong. But these days what is right or wrong in art. It's not technically correct, though you can tell what it is. Though at the sane time it's not abstract. Is it how i see the world, does it represent me. Or is it just a doodle of a bottle of paint. How do we determine these things?
15:38 - It's snowing again outside. I made a little poem up on monday when i was walking in the snow. "Beauty beauty all around, snow is falling, heavens found."
14:00 - Chris walks in room with Mark. I watch them. Mark drags a board across the floor, while Chris walks around the corner.
14:02 - I begin to cut up the dead pink rose again.
14:52 - Still here cutting up petals of the rose. It's all i ever seem to do, cutting and sticking. Meaninglesss, repetative repetative activities. snip snip snip.
I'm so lost in my ideas, my art. I'm all over the place, don't know where i am going or where i began. I sit here chewing my gum, repetative, jaw opens and closes.
5 petals left.
Repetative obbsession.
17:29 - Sat on number 1 bus going home. Man sat infront of me. He has just said hello and alright to everyone on the bus - going round everyone individually to make sure we are all sound and have all had a good day. He has a big smile and is singing "Where all on a big red bus going on a summer holiday."
He's polite, talking to everyone, friendly...so why are people trying to ignore him and avoid eye contact.
Why do we always sit on bus in silence. Maybe we should be more like this chap.

Sunday 20th February 2005

11:37 - 100 million million billion atoms in a ballon. Fall to the floor. Atomic bomb, one atom. One person with purpose can accomplish more than 100 million million billion people without.
Jew runs out of footsteps on the Sabbath (can only walk a certain number of steps in day - literally day of rest). He has to stay in the same place that he ran out of steps. Police come, can't move him - on religious grounds. Stay on road till midnight. Unless a helicopter comes and lifts him away.
White horse into a zebra. Bin liners. Friday 25th February 3am. Reason - the shock and enthusiasm of when the white horse was first created. Re - create this. People notice again. CHRISTO * cause people to look differently at their surroundings.
zebra
giraffe
donkey
dog
rhino
hippo

Thursday 17th February 2005

20:28 - Art needs to cause a reaction. If knowone ever saw my work, would i still do it? On Kawara - became lifestyle. Does art only fullfill it's own need.
I want to be a painter.
But that doesnt flow out of me. What does, are jumbled words.
Ideas are empty if there is no vision to fullfill them.
20:33 - Am i passionate enough to be an artist, because today i am filled with doubt.

Wednesday 16th February 2005

16:23 - I had an idea earlier on today. I was walking around town about miday. I wonder what it was.
I am sat at my desk tapping my right foot and eating a pink lady apple. Sound of someone rolling out celotape.
16:26: - I look around room. Splatted paint, ripped paper, piles of sheets and card. Everyones got so much work. My desk seems to have looked like this for months and i think its starting to look worse. A lot of repetition in everyones work, everyone has a very unique style.
16:30 - Just finished eating apple, picking bits out of teeth with left hand. I have a nutri grain bar and a quarter of a bottle of evian water left to eat and drink. I'm being really healty today, why?
16:32 - I'm sat making notes and trying to improve my personal statment.
17:12 - CD playing - scratched. Jumping about, repetition, I jump up, run over, press stop. Silence.

Wednesday 9th February 2005

Miday 12:00 - I've stopped waiting for magic or lightening to come. I've just got to get on with it. I have my work spread across the table ready to be handled, moulded and made sense of.

Tuesday 1st February 2005

16:09 - Thinking about conversation i had yesterday. Knowledge is like stamp collecting, it's all for show, delicatly placed and displayed. Whilst intellegance is quiet, humble, surprising.