Don't worry, dear Pamela, I'll do my scientific best to command your fleet

I keep coming back to the painting
'Blood on the Pavement' (Bacon 1988)
It's kinda sparse and minimal in comparison
to most of his work, but this one has
something rather nihilistic? (?) about it..
(even more so than most that is..)

I recommend a good hard shot of vodka tonic,
a bag of Maltesers & 'Superstar' by Sonic Youth
on repeat whilst viewing this one.


Explore.



'Blood on the Pavement'
c.1988, oil on canvas. 198 x 147.5
Private Collection.

whatever useless things these hands have done

caught in a celluloid jam

I'm lost in wine and late night TV, the modern world..
I am currently discovering that I am in love with Fay Wray,
I haven't seen King Kong since I was 'knee high..' and am
now absolutely besotted..
..of course, Louise Brooks will always remain my true love,
but at weekends I'm now dating Fay.

In my mind.

Everybody got a destination, Everybody got a place to go

He wrote like wet papier mache, went the Heming-way weirdly on wings and with maximum pain

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse

I'm seriously considering the journey to London
on the penultimate day of the Francis Bacon exhibition
in London, this for me is organisation to the extreme,
this means getting off my lazy arse and dragging my
weary bones into the outside world.. and onto a train
and into the busy heart of the country..
the odds of me getting very lost are very high..
odds of me returning on the same day as planned..
negligible to zero..

Trains make me anxious, people terrify me.. but I really
want to see this exhibition.. I need something good to
start the new year on the right tracks..

I want to fuck everyone in the world.

(I want to do something, that matters)

Just another one, one of many; ownership of
beauty may not be a feasible possibility, but at
what cost do we value beauty?

I price it above all else; beauty is the only thing
we have left.

We should do everything in our power not to lose it.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

< BBC News article here >

look at the model and feel very exactly

(for nature reveals herself to me in very complex ways)

I'm looking, I can't stop looking; like beauty of
'Titian proportions' with that ultimate sense of
impending romantic loss, which was always
out of reach.. in very complex ways..
with a bottle of vodka in my coat,
& my dog eared bible lost.

Watching me drown.

(or "Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole")

I think he probably did, and much worse to be honest.
Still, I love Picasso, and as much stress as his lifestyle
caused him, I would gladly buy into it.
Not the art, I don't give a shit about the art.

Is just after 11am to early for wine? Yes!! of course it
fucking is, I'll wait till dinner time, I do have some restraint.

I should add a 'progress painting photograph to this post
to make it relevant.

Here.. some scruffy looking workings out..

..and then the irony (hibernation project (i))

The factory in silence stands,
I think I may have bored everybody beyond freezing point,
and it is bloody cold...

So, until there is anything of any interest to say, I won't continue to waffle on without any relevant content..

Here's looking forward to the summer and some direction.