END OF MESSAGE…

... For now anyhow... Until I grow balls enough to give justice to any future coverage, virtual oblivion achieved and ‘chicken’ enough to say little resembling anything worthy of the magnificent time spent in Poland dictates it’s time to sign off and mothball the auld blog – resign myself to the fact all those intended accounts are now left to the ambiguous whims of memory. Too much left out - too much stuff and nonsense left in simply to pass the time of day during those many mornings after the nights before dictated ‘the slide’ was more braking than skating - ending up looking and sounding just a tad pedestrian for a life sometimes crashing - often cruising in the fast lane... However much I intended it to be, and whether the odd post here has some value or not, warts and all it certainly wasn’t out of the respect for friends’ privacy and my lack of ingenuity in story-telling. So it’s nara here for now and a shift in gear somewhere else.

THIS PAINT BY NUMBERS LIFE…

... suits me sir... It’s apparent that the gradual erosion of one’s once escalating identity, if not wholly the result of, is due in part to an ever increasing loss over the years of that murderous suspect trust and an increase in the weariness to what lies ahead. Tired of hope, worn-out by the search toward, well, what essentially was nothing but the dream planted at the beginning of time by some joker who gets His laughs from seeing the host running down increasingly shortening dead ends, 2009 represents the start of nothing which can be described as what has gone before. The seeds were planted some time well before the extra second was added at the end of 2008, but that additional moment of time needed to keep the clock in tune with the slowing down of the rotation of the planet was enough to allow the poppy seeds of reality to sprout at last. Dreamcast – Blown-apart, the fighting is over. Peace is born and will grow through a truth from without and not from within. Numb. No need now for New Year’s resolutions, simply less of what was virtuous and more of what’s amusing, entertaining regardless of where it comes from thanks very much… Whether it’s in your hands or not, time’s a ticking, so a good’n to all!

NO CURE FOR BIRTH AND DEATH...

... save to enjoy the interval!

BEFORE...

For what it's worth, it's not easy with only the past to converse with, but still, those of us still standing have managed thus far to shore up the levee against the inevitable whirl pools and eddies left in its wake which threaten the onward tide of linear flow, and perhaps with less difficulty the continuous search through the obscene estate of once friendly streets, the putrid paving stone of town and all the hiding places taught us at times of union... But, the mother of all our here and now’s give no definitive answers. Rejoicing in the pre-incarnation of herself in infancy is enough to lose forever what’s promised, only to discover her fullness night and day in giddy clarity. For all we know the fake who lives and walks about right now and tomorrow when it arrives in her clothes is the genuine touch stone. Perhaps the confetti imitating the counterfeit is simply strewn across the churchyards time and again because it’s wanted more than the stranger who blew one last kiss to the air, turned, and walked away forever.

...AND AFTER

On seeing yet another ‘almost completed canvas’ wiped out with primer, a colleague said to me that I should stop trying to complete the definitive painting every time I struggle to finish a canvas, that I should know when to stop, let the buggers live, move on and start afresh. But perhaps it’s the not knowing when to stop which allows me to move on? Still, she has a point when it comes to having stuff to show for all the effort! It’s the way I work though, and some stuff does survive. Aye, the crap though, Dominika used to say :-) Well, not in so many words, but that was the gist!

THIS BLOODY CREDIT CRUNCH MALARKEY..,

.., and now more importantly something I never thought I’d witness in my lifetime whether I thought it inevitable or not: the virtual collapse of capitalism. Around the globe banks are crumbling at a phenomenal rate and the penny, or rather the billions have finally dropped that greed isn’t actually good after-all. Today, in the wake of seismic moves in the States and throughout Europe to bailout financial institutions wholesale, the help handed out by governments, and in effect the tax payer, can be seen as tantamount to the Nationalisation of the free market, well, sort of anyway, and it’s all getting just a bit s c a r y. And do I give a shit personally, well, do I shite. HA bloody HA, serves the greedy bastards right… Mind, I might think differently if I owned a ‘grownup’ bank balance myself, and let’s face it, it’s all not very nice for us all down here at ground level either – As you might gather, still no luck in finding suitable work, and unlikely to as the unemployment figures start to rocket in the wake of this bloody credit crunch!

"THE CAVE YOU FEAR TO ENTER HOLDS THE TREASURE YOU SEEK"

Joseph Campbell…

Probably why I never seem to hit the jackpot then – Only joking; unless it’s a Lottery win that is? Yeah, the danger, or the luck of it, is that treasure is easy to come by as long as you’re clever enough (or most would say daft enough) to avoid those homely caves with their Deep-Freezers and TV Dinners to-boot.., and whether painless or not, certainly effortless but unfortunately o so easily spent in the land of nod without someone with whom to share it all with. Hey, we’re fundamentally designed for life whether we choose to live or not, and living is certainly in the making here. Happiness and the reality of it too, if only it were so lucid; for without the conformation of it all, which is only really possible with someone to go halves with, well, it’s all about as real as the dawning of an unlikely dream. So, rub the sticky auld sleep from the eyes, and after a good old ‘dawning’, I’m sitting here – I’m sitting here spent of seed meant for better destinations than the proverbial tissue.., and well.., unlikely as it is lads.., never one to stomach tedious people even at the best of times, I’m always up for a bit of ‘Bad’ Company every now and again: Baby..,

.., when I think about you I think about love.

Darlin, couldn't live without you and your love.

If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday

I would wrap you in the heavens and feel it dyin (dyin, dyin) all the way I feel like makin

Feel like makin love

Feel like makin love

Feel like makin love

Feel like makin love to you...

Whoa - Stop... Horrific - Correct sentiment, but would say; better listened to really: HERE

ENGLAND'S GREEN AND...

A U-turn and a return ‘home’ to the North-East of England was never a manoeuvre I was ever expecting to make, and such a shift in the way Britain ‘swings’ was never something I ever expected to witness. Both matters are true however, and although the move back here to Newcastle in particular could be said to have been enforced and riddled with regrets, on both counts there is both good and bad.

It’s some seven or more years since I headed off down the A1 with, it’s got to be said, a swagger in the old soul and a beautiful young wife on my arm, or rather driving the old Peugeot she’d loved before and long after she’d fallen in and out of love with me; and like the marriage itself, living in the sunny climes of Cambridgeshire seems like a short interlude now (however nice a break it was) on the way to something much bigger and better – something.., well.., true – something, permanent!

Well, we all more or less know, nothing lasts for ever, but three or so years living in Poland continues to feel like short change for what it promised and forgot to fulfil, and the transformation in such a short time away has me looking at the changes here in England with eyes agape and an ache for the times before!

The loss of both my mother and father aside while away, then living abroad was on the whole a fantastic experience, and leaving aside the obvious loss of the most important thing to have happened to me to-date, I’ve got to say that I quite simply miss my life out there, a life which I’ve got to say rates better than any previous – a life that, when particularly in Warsaw, felt at home with itself perhaps for the first time ever!

And here we are now. ‘Home’ is pushing the term, for although, as far as I trust my eyes, the very fabric of the place hasn’t changed, any familiarity however has become more than blurred!

Newcastle/Gateshead Quayside

It’s got to be said that I’m looking at this as a good thing, for familiarity perhaps does breed contempt after-all, and contempt is the very last thing on my mind. It’s this new strangeness that I’d say gets me out of bed when I could so easily wallow in the continuing misery of losing both parents and Dominika so recently, and it’s the peculiarity of the ‘new’ England which instigates a continuation of what has become the journey of a life time - Life in Poland and what went with it should have ended in death otherwise and, well, death isn’t an option – not for this old bugger anyway. Hey, we all need to suffer for our art, don’t we ;-)
It would be easier to suggest that the last few years have seen big changes in me rather than the wholesale alteration of England itself. There’s a massive truth in this of course, but I’d live and die by the fact that life here is indeed a hell of a lot different from how it was just a matter of three or four years ago.

The forthcoming recession or perhaps even the ‘loss’ of Blare might have a lot to do with it, but I reckon there’s something more fundamental happening. Some call it the intrusion of the nanny state, I’d call it the lying down of the populous – the acceptance of what’s best for the state at the detriment of personal freedoms and the approval of puritanical behaviour! Yet, Brits being Brits and there continues to be an underlying rebellion or rather consequence, and what used to be acceptable letting of pressure, now sees the whole of Britain gripped by hysteria and totally smashed in its spare time – literally drunk regardless of background – although those in fright like to think the current need for the masses to be off its tits most of the time is refined to the under-classes and susceptible young! Wrong! Britain is getting drunk because it doesn’t like being told what to do while believing what its being told is after-all, good for it! Contradictions – and there in lies the fun…

AND NEWCASTLE ITSELF..?

Newscastle - Grey Street from Monument

Well, being Red and White to the core so the footy team aside, Newcastle is a surprisingly fantastic revelation for me, as I’ve dreaded the thought of a return, and the place has grown as a cosmopolitan centre beyond expectation since I last lived here. It goes without saying, but it’s great to have close friends at hand too, and living in Jesmond, however temporary it might turn out to be, leaves a warm glow in the belly. For those of you who don’t know Newcastle, Jesmond is generally thought of as a sort after part of the city which, with its own centre of shops, library, swimming pool, bars, cafés and the like, is a fantastic part of Newcastle consisting of a mixture of the city’s professionals and posh students – your loud rugby types when it comes to boys being the downside, but on the upside, rather gorgeous young ‘debutants’ when it comes to eye candy!

Starbucks in Jesmond

Inevitably, I’ve also made some new, and truly interesting acquaintances down at the local, and although The Lonsdale itself has suffered like most real pubs because of the smoking ban in the way of atmosphere, it boasts an outdoor seating area along with its own heaters (needed during what’s turning out to be a shitty summer weather-wise) which allows for enough socialization not to destroy the local fabric of culture or the feeling of community amongst the adults. In essence there remains a little corner of ‘old’ England to allow for the continuation of good craic and thankfully, there’s enough bars around following suit, for the atmosphere within, although after-all healthier (though the smells within suggest otherwise) and kiddie friendly (not altogether a bad thing), IS as sterile as waiting for a bloody bus!

Yup, life could be a lot worse and is certainly starting to look up again regardless of the fact I’m getting nowhere in acquiring council accommodation, (I called in at the housing department the other day to discover that the last two places I ‘biddered’ for I was 36 and 52 in line) and the temporary work has just come to an end.

AND WORK..?

Kids on the Project

... Although I’ve always had mixed feelings about Community Arts and just what it really achieves in the community as regard to promoting anything much beyond having a bit of a laugh, I’ve got to admit to having really enjoyed my recent role as Project/Studio Assistant and have somewhat been converted to the joys of working with kids regardless!

And if you leave aside (for those of us who can remember our early teens) the forgivable indifference of the older groups who while manoeuvring their way through puberty had little energy left in them beyond their own interest in one another, the younger kids and those from the local special needs school clearly did get something from their days out. I’m still not altogether sure what this something was/is in the way of understanding the fine-arts, artists, or the role of either, but they left having clearly achieved something and experiencing ways of working which quite simply they don’t get to do at school?

Despite a certain amount of restrictions imposed by both venue and time, you can’t fault the efforts of the artist’s and the staff I’ve had the pleasure of working with either. All involved put in so much more of an effort and expertise beyond what you could call duty and could perhaps be said to be born out of passing on something of what they love.

Yes, I learnt a lot about how ‘this thing’ works and found out a lot more about myself that I’m not sure was there before the project began, what, two months ago.

I’ll definitely miss all I’ve met, but I take something away with me which I won’t be so soft as to express here!

AH BUT YOU’VE GOT TO LAUGH

Well I’m trying, I mean really trying to approach things, if not exactly with a full bodied laugh, at least with a smile on the auld mug as if this bloody ‘new’ life were a blank canvas to paint on what I will; but the hope and need of new beginnings are more akin to digging up a worthless piece of old work, whacking primer over the umpteen layers of failed attempts before, and in the effort of adding colour to breathe life and form into the bloody thing, simply to see any endeavour do nothing other than slip and slide away on the glassy surface to produce little more than a smear of what should be!

It’s exactly three weeks since my plane from Warsaw dropped me onto the sodden tarmac of Durham and Teesdale (a dingy excuse of an airport if ever there was one) and nothing is falling into place the way I hoped it would since escaping the torment that was the last few weeks in Bialystok.


It seems that attempting to rekindle my practice on foreign soil enabled me to grow in one way and shrink in so many others; either this, or the holes which make up the great British social safety net have become so big that falling has become a continual decent until the likes of me (not your average charva of course) have nowhere else to land beyond the tarmac and concrete curb which together make up the gutter. Indeed without the generous support of friends, that is undoubtedly the place where I would be right now!

As far as the authorities are concerned I have indeed completely disappeared right off the radar. The ‘simple’ practicalities of finding work and a place to live is proving a much more arduous task, promises to be drawn out to the extreme, and without said friends, I would indeed be in seriously big BIG trouble!

I’ve toyed with homelessness in a minor way before when as an optimistic young artist it was almost obligatory to gain some fashionable kudos, but applying for council accommodation (my most affordable and perhaps only affordable option at the moment) has left me in no doubt that at my age and in my current situation, without the support of those around me, I would indeed be homeless with a capital ‘C’.

Since the decline in council stock or the ever increasing need to protect the country’s children from potential harm by conducting more and more thorough criminal records checks, it is virtually impossible to convince the powers that be that disappearing for three years is a legitimate form of behaviour. To ‘bag’ a council flat without a helping hand from ‘god’ or a council employee on a good day, and the only foreseeable help I’ve been granted to-date, or until I’m fully ‘processed’ in the far distant future that is, is to be allocated emergency accommodation in a shared dormitory at a hostel along with other homeless characters... Not really conducive to starting a new life really, is it – a bunk at night and by day to wonder the streets - Kind of dodgy looking too if you think about it when the kind of work I’m applying for requires that I have to have an official disclosure carried out on me by ‘The Criminal Records Bureau’ before I can be eligible to work with children or vulnerable adults. Fair enough, but the fact that disappearing for three years is proving difficult for them to get to grips with makes the fact that my criminal past, which extends to nothing more than heading up a new one-way street on my motorcycle at the age of 20+, superfluous.

The only other option as far as accommodation goes is to bite the bullet and go into the private sector, but as we all know, rents there are extortionate in the extreme in relation to pay and the old social trap of not being able to earn enough to afford such living inevitably leads to a life on the dole and having your rent paid by the benefits system forever and ever, amen. But seriously, I’ve done the sums and they don’t add up! Shocking, but who is to blame? The government for handing out high benefits (well, try sustaining yourself on £60 a week), or private landlords for charging rents only the wealthy can afford (well, try covering your overheads if you charge less than the average 600-700 quid a month for a one bedroom flat)? Lack of council stock is the problem if you ask me, and we all know why and how that disappeared.

So really, it’s a matter of hanging on in there to have my application for a council place passed and stamped, and in the mean time praying that I don’t overstay my welcome as a guest on the sofa of ‘me’ good old mate Col! We’re already starting to look like ‘the odd couple’ – not a good thing in these parts – two blokes living together, so the sooner I leave the better anyway.

The future can and will be bright however, of that I have little doubt, but without somewhere to call home and a worthy enough job and resurgent practice, then as a virtual down-and-out trying to come to terms with so many things right now, I do feel about as alive as a doornail in freefall. I'm ok though - and, reckon I'll land Sharp End first!

AUTO RESPONSE

Morning of leaving and going through the motions purely because I have to!

Completely alone, heart pounding, sick to the pit of my stomach, I’m sitting staring at an empty suitcase to my left and to my right a pile of clothes clearly too big to fit the bloody thing but essential if I’m to have enough with me to warrant calling it a mobile home... And I’m simply wishing I wasn’t here or anywhere else.

'AND I FIND IT KIND OF FUNNY…

.

… I find it kind of sad… The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had'…

And this kind of sums up the shambles I seem to have made of the last three or more years pursuing both dreams and of course Dominika alike!

A friend emailed me last night and said that the way I say goodbye is very thespian of me, done in a manner that suggests I’ll never be returning.

Unfortunately however, the facts bare this out. Most goodbyes have been no less than uncontrollable, I mean, simply brutal. Like, you just know, as the years flash before your eyes, it’s most unlikely you’ll ever see this person again – well, not for ‘real’ anyway!

I’ve spent the best part of my adult life saying goodbye to people. I find myself having to say it all the time. I can’t remember staying put for much longer than a three year stretch at best since I said my first farewells to my family way back when this once young boy’s face had yet to show its wear and tear. And, it appears that finally saying hello for keeps this time was no more than the same old interlude before heading off to life’s departure lounge yet again.

Well, it’s exactly a year ago to the day when I clearly sensed something wasn’t quite right with my current lot, and whoever it was that put the bloody hex on the last 366 days, it’s over now ok… The sun is shining, you got all you wanted of me and left the bliss of the time before the last twelve months in tatters. So let it be, I’ve finally learnt my lesson – right!

So, here’s to new bloody beginnings and hopefully this time onwards and upwards to where the true adventures lie! Certainly what remains here is dying quicker than a kick with a tick, and perhaps the one important lesson I’ve learnt this time round, after the initial horror of a spell broken, is to forget (put to the sword that which once brought you joy) when it’s time to move on…

Another friend I was saying goodbye to the other day insisted we use the Polish ‘na razie’ as she reckons ‘farewell’ is such an ugly word… I agree, but there are some things you just have to draw a line through whether you want to or not! Sometimes the choice is not yours to make anymore!

So.., for some it's forever, farewell and goodbye, while for those where there remains hope and truth the connection cannot ever be broken - na razie!

And, before I go, for Dominika, well, nothing she hasn't heard before, but, never-the-less an old favourite HERE - a track I didn't ever really take much notice of myself until one particularly wonderful afternoon by the banks of Czarna Hancza over a beer and dinner... "Remember; perhaps not"..?

FOR ALL THOSE WHO CONTINUE TO BELIEVE IN DREAMS

This oldie from an ancient disc I managed to dig up while sorting stuff for packing and or chucking… Haven’t seen it myself for years, completed in ’86 when I was but a young’n and as green as I seem to remain to this day [shocked]..,

Paul Brewster - In want of the Wind . Oil on Canvas . 80X70cm . 1986

.., and because the ‘Romantic’ still shines within me from time to time, a little favourite of mine:

THE host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling: Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling: Away, come away…

‘The Hosting of the Sidhe’ - W. B. Yeats

And me, well, without my Niamh skipping along hand in hand, to continue to run as if Caoilte is now like chewing toffee with toothache, but hey, there's always something you can do with toothache!

NEW WORK – REMAINING WORK TO COME

Unfortunately because of my current circumstances the first and possibly the last three works for the foreseeable future to be completed for the ‘Titled’ series can be seen below…

‘Titled’ was planned to be an exploration of how the individual is perceived through a kind of national narrative here in Poland and how, very much like in most ‘xenophobic’ states, this denies the notion of the individual and or uniqueness…

‘Liberty’, as seen through western eyes, continues to be little more than a pipe dream for the average citizen in Poland, but more especially for those who ‘practice’ anything which is seen as abnormal by the church, state and family alike (see previous blog regarding the case of Dorota Nieznalska), for woe betide those who happen to be gay, wayward, poor or women!

Initially drawing on stereotypical poses, catholic kitsch, far-right solutions and the ghosts of communism, the work hopefully grows to reveal an underlying tenderness, humour and cynicism which is found within the soul of the individual but ‘contained’ by the majority.

Titled . Acrylic on Canvas . 100X120 cm . 2008

Titled . Acrylic on Canvas . 100X120 cm . 2008

Titled . Acrylic on Canvas . 100X120 . 2008

PILE UP ENOUGH TOMORROWS AND YOU’LL FIND YOU’VE COLLECTED NO END OF EMPTY YESTERDAYS

A bit late, but Szczęśliwy nowy rok and here’s hoping it’s a better one than most of the previous! Got to say however that, despite a jittery last few months, the new year has already kicked up some promising stuff, including a much healthier look to the work, including a couple of new and promising contacts!

Still, losing my dad, however expected his loss was supposed to be, has been taking its toll on the everyday activities which normally keep the rest of us ticking along!

Thank GOD for Dominika - I really don't know what I'd do without her right now!

Just about everything has either washed over me or has seemed completely trivial in the last few months since just before and after his death, and if you will forgive me just a little more self indulgence here, I continue to miss the auld fella more than I can say - Can't quite get my head around the thought of never having a good old chin-wag with him ever again - Suppose my dad is the closest family member I've lost to being a good mate - Just wish we could have spent more time together - have him in the mix a bit more with all my regular friends/mates, if that makes sense!

As he once said to me during the many times we talked through his long illness however, (and I’ve no idea where he got the quote from, but, he always liked to collect the odd line of wisdom or two), ‘You pile up enough tomorrows son, and you'll find you've collected a hell of a lot of empty yesterdays’! Well, there’s no end of truth in that, and my dad would have been the first one to admit that he piled up far too many tomorrows than’s healthy for any thinking human-being – For him, and he would be the first to pat me on the back for saying this, for myself, I continue to try not to make that mistake!

Was it Edwin Bliss who said, Yesterday is a cancelled cheque: Forget it. Tomorrow is a promissory note: Don't count on it. Today is ready cash: Use it..! Well, he might well have simply meant this to apply to time management in the world of commerce and industry, but it applies equally to ‘artistic’ creativity and living in general! And, perhaps this’s where ‘trivia’ isn’t such a bad thing after-all!

I know I’ve been accused many a time of wasting a great deal of the stuff of life on trivial activity, but, hey, one person’s trivia just might be another’s E = MC or perhaps should be.., and, I stand by the ‘belief’ that all life journeys lead to the same old place, but as long as you get there with a smile on your face then you’ve been lucky enough to ‘spend’ that ‘ready cash’!

SMOKING ‘TABS’ AND GOOD ‘CRAIC’..,

.., well, they go together with having a beer or two in the pub, don’t they? Not anymore of course, what with the smoking ban back in Britain as a whole. And, what do we have in the meantime while any good den of iniquity we did have is either closing down or just surviving by ‘donning the clothes’ of the new righteous.., what will we have as a replacement full-stop, well, more bistros than a community will ever need and bloody kiddie friendly restaurant bars.., and as well as being simply a sad state of affairs that such a great institution will disappear forever, I suspect the full cost to society in general hasn’t yet been fully calculated!

The once great English pub has long been the meeting place where society’s misfits, rebels, great thinkers and the like mull over the latest craic on any given subject, and the terrible fact is, that some of the greatest theories and the subsequent creativity that results from this atmosphere from within smoke filled bars is about to be resigned to the great ashtray in the sky worldwide forever… What we’ll finally be left with when the ash settles is anyone’s guess, but if my recent sad visit to what used to be my favourite haunts back in England is anything to go by, then most likely we’ll be left with little more than the real horror of trivial chit chat, (if any talk at all), and the need to drink up as quickly as possible to head off home to enjoy something more exciting like, hmm, what’s on the telly… Yes, and along with what all this entails - the formulation of germ-free ideas and the resulting sanitized art, whether it be music, painting or any other medium you might care to think of.

As I sit with friends and colleagues alike over a beer or two down at the local, cigarette burning in one hand, glass in the other, burning issues falling from the lips like gifts from above, the sad fact is that it just isn’t going to last anywhere for anyone for any or much longer – It appears the tide has unfortunately and irreversibly turned – the virtuous surfing in on their wave of untarnished rhetoric, for if it wasn’t bad enough that the great English pub has been purged of any fertile activity, there’s now talk that in the foreseeable future, Polish bars might just be heading down the same sterile slipstream of fresh air!

Sad days indeed – Why oh why can you non-smoking dull f*ckers not just stay away and leave the dangerous environment of smoked filled pubs, clubs and bars to those who dare!

And one last quote for now: “A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite and leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want”..? :-) Oscar Wilde, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

WILLIAM JACKSON BREWSTER

27 January 1928 – 3 November 2007

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on

Thanks for Everything Dad – Rest in Peace Now - Paul

MARKET FORCES

Work in Progress: Working on the commission I have, to complete a painting of The Virgin Mary this week – market forces and all that, but although the brief is/was to produce something traditional, a certain amount of artistic licence has been accepted and passed, after the client saw the initial drafts… In consequence, the experience is proving to be more than a pleasure, with a day’s painting yesterday resulting in an excellent start (as left) – If things go smoothly, the assignment should be completed by the end of the week! Good news, as time seems to be at a premium these days.

The move last week took more or less the whole of the week to complete in itself – well, to settle into the flat that is. Actually (and cheers again Bogdan and Anka again for all the help – great night out in Taverna afterwards too) moving of late takes hardly any time at all, since I’ve reduced my personal possessions to the bare essentials! Still, there was still thankfully enough time to get all the outstanding proof reading work done and enjoy the wide open space of the new pad and being in the city centre again.

No change regarding noise from neighbours however – A week of living in and amongst Białystok’s young professionals has finally given me the insight into why pubs, clubs and the general night-life of Poland is so, well, devoid of excitement… Poland’s young swingers clearly prefer to avoid the bright lights of town in favour of destroying any sense of asylum at home and turning their apartments into night clubs and what can only be described as discothèques (considering the weird penchant for 70s Disco and Boney M in particular)..! This aside however, and the sense of safety, compared to fearing death in Broniewskiego, completely out-ways the fact that Death-Metal Boy was clearly lulling me to sleep in comparison to I’ve Got All-Round-Sound Man next door, My Mother’s Out So I’ll Wreck the Place Juvenile downstairs, and Disco Inferno across the road. AND, of course, there’s the workers renovating the derelict warehouse down the road who think by pumping up their stone covered stereo system that they’re performing on stage at Glastonbury – Aye, you didn’t warn me about all this cacophony did you Daniel ;-)

For now, back to the relative peace then of Mary, Mother of God - Z dawna Polski Tyś Królową, Maryjo - Ty za nami przemów słowo, Maryjo - Ociemniałym podaj rękę - niewytrwałym skracaj mękę - Twe Królestwo weź w porękę, Maryjo!

CANNOT FIND SERVER

Since we’re on the move again, I thought a call in at our internet provider to be disconnected in a month’s time had been misinterpreted and we’d been cut off for good this morning by mistake. It’s simply crap without! Like most these days, I truly can’t cope without being wired up to my Inbox, FiveLive, SopCast and the occasional fix of Cream-Pie-Cathy.

Thankfully the paralysing fear of isolation from the world was short-lived however and the server swung into action to much relief once again.

Not that that can be said regarding my residency in Ul Broniewskiego. Short-lived it’s been sure enough, but it’s sometimes felt like a life sentence, and the thought of staying here a moment longer simply and finally got the better of me. So, it’s dobranoc to the guy downstairs (who can now crank up his death-strains as much as he likes - to play to the devil himself for all I care), and goodbye for good to the alleyway drunks, their obnoxious stares, and eyeing up the joint from the stairwell as I leave of a morning; for we’re off to pastures green in the centre of town – namely – Daniel’s now empty flat in the more salubrious surroundings of Centrum!

Not that it’s been all bad here! On the whole the people are great, or what we would call Salt of the Earth – if they weren’t, you know, the sort of dogmatic bigots who appear to be harmless until they set fire to your front door… Aye, it’s been canny enough, but I won’t be sad to be loading up the auld removals van once again! To be honest, if I didn’t fear for my life sometimes (and I know this is probably the paranoia given me by the subliminal messages held within the music from downstairs) then I’d be loathed to leave - The place is supremely interesting, and as an area, a complete Photo-Fest.

Took this one of the local church yesterday, a building, which although rather humble compared to the numerous grand ‘cathedrals’ dotted around Białystok, is still relatively imposing in a peculiar kind of way, and with it’s two early morning masses continues to be filled to overflowing twice each morning (the congregation literally does spill onto the pavement and road). Whether I pass by on my run at six or eight am, it’s an odd feeling and sight for me as a ‘devout C of E’ and resulting atheist because of it as I hustle my way through the crowds in my preferred jogging outfits of ragamuffin T-Shirts, long swimming trunks and day-glow trainers on the way to fall around the local park (a semi-reclaimed industrial site which looks magnificent in the summer and like a bombsite the rest of the year round) and back again sweating, retching phlegm and spitting, while in their Sunday bests they sing out loud their Hail Mary’s, or whatever the Latin is for Morning Has Broken..?

Until the move, for now, bon-voyage

ALL BUNGED UP..,

.., and full of shit most of the time, but following on from my last entry, it has to be said that painter’s block isn’t so much the kind of a constipation that hasn’t produced plenty of shit and diarrhoea! I’m painting plenty enough but simply find that all I begin at the moment is simply suited more to other media!

Stuck in the Shallows – Drawing and Printed Image

A great night out with Dominika the other night where we thrashed out little else other than what and where we should be heading work wise did wonders in giving some real direction! An innocent phrase in an email from you too Tom also did wonders, and confidence to carry out projects other than painting is now flying high.

A mixture of scanned drawing, computer generated photography and the like is the immediate response and is proving to be much more suited in summing up some urban images I’ve had swilling around in my head for a year or so now. It’s a start, and it’ll be interesting to see how these and hundreds of images employing the figure as well will look when printed out with some scale to them!

Praga Series – Drawing and Printed Image

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM

Although complying with a request to turn down his incessant, droning, death-metal somewhat, I simply can’t underestimate the effect the new tenant below continues to have on my bloody moods and ability to concentrate on anything but the inevitable forthcoming bout of torture to come!

The subsequent low level grind is now reasonable enough in terms of volume, leaving it quite churlish for any more complaint, but remains just loud enough to destroy any semblance of peace and self control! I know I'm sometimes on the verge of cracking anyway!

For hours on end, at various times which appear to have no routine to them at all, the same old abrasive pitch grinds away, leaving me stewing in self pity, believing that someone has been allocated by a higher authority to follow me through life simply as punishment for some cacophonic misdemeanour I must clearly have performed in a previous existence. Or Perhaps, like the bloke during the end of my tenure in Warsaw, who whether it were day or night simply pumped up the volume whenever we politely asked him to shut-the-fuck-up or not, the Diabeł downstairs might just be a bit thick! Dominika certainly thinks so anyway, describing him as needing to be committed, or did she say omitted from society and life in general!

Well, that’s one excuse out of the way as to why the work just isn’t clicking right now, but it does emphasise the fact that painter's block has settled in and settled in good and proper since the annoying git moved in around a month ago!

Even a much needed break away has made little impact on the flow of the old creative juices. Indeed, sitting overlooking Lake Serwy a mere week or so ago seems like an eon ago now, and it certainly seemed to signal yet another summer to bite the dust - Not that there’s been much dust this summer to clear from the throat. Even here in Poland, where we might not have had the horrific rain-made lakes that England has had to endure, it’s been a washout never-the-less. It might only be close to the end of August, and regardless of the last few days of blistering temperatures, it’s pretty obvious that autumn is lurking and has been since the end of spring… A kind of missing year as a whole I’d call it where at the beginning it promised much, and ended with little happening in-between.

It’s not all doom and gloom of course, but with little in the way of completed projects to show for some bloody hard work, it feels like it!

The paintings have been on hold now, well, as I say, about a month, and to be completely honest, the dynamism to complete them has simply deserted both body and soul, leaving a dried up lethargic looking palette lying there collecting dust with me seriously wondering when, if ever, it will be called into action again..?

And damn it, how promising the work looks as it all waits there wondering itself whether it will live or die – Just where the hell does the will fuck off too, to complete the buggers anyway? It already feels like it has little chance of surviving this ‘fickle’ mind of mine, but I daren’t tell Dominika that just yet – She loves the canvases as the buggers stand..! Perhaps if canvas was easy to come by then it wouldn’t matter so much? The paintings could then go to hell on their own without the inevitable push from me :-)

Is it my age? Am I simply just painted out? I know that video, photography, even drawing seem to run their course like determined homing pigeons in the auld head anyway – Why not painting? Is it the ‘twat’ downstairs? To a certain extent, yes; his annoyingly miserable choice of harmony doesn’t help, but it’s something deeper, something a bit more fundamental surely! Age? Perhaps? I mean, the processes involved in video, photography and drawing allow for faster resolutions, and it becomes somewhat obvious that the older one gets, there’s less time to get done what wants to be done. And, I dunno, sometimes painting isn’t always the right medium suited to the subject we have in mind anyway..?

1999 kiss inertia 56X56 cm

The most likely problem with painting for me however might just be down to my very own legacy. The fact that I haven’t painted on a regular and intensive basis now for over seven years, and more importantly that I had developed a style over the previous twenty which encompassed many of the attributes associated with more contemporary media by the end of that dynamic output, then that has left me struggling this year to gain a sense of something more direct. Not easy to switch suddenly back to painting from video and hope to find some kind of uninterrupted or immediate solution eh. The fact is, ‘it’ has been interrupted, and broken up big style in the intervening years! These, or this newfound desire to paint really can’t be realised overnight, that much I understand, but it remains truly frustrating not to be seen to be getting anywhere fast!

Once again, particularly on my part, the thought of this summer hinted at a number of undertakings to be completed, but the guarantees both Dominika and yours truly gave one another have resulted in little more than false assurances. I mean, what the hell happened to the inevitable annual promise of summer skies filled with dizzy high flying swifts? Like the summer itself, note one or two brave little black devils silhouetted against the overcast skies while the rest remained at home somewhere in Africa or wherever they frequent the winter months! It might not be the fault of the weather, but if we can’t blame the low pressure, then what?

Got to admit, it was a relief for both of us to be in the lakes to relax and unwind for a bit anyway. I’m a bit of a townie really when it comes to re-charging the power-pack, but being in the country again did help to take stock a little, and to get away from work for a week, was essential - especially for Dominika - It’s clear for all to see that this year’s workload has taken its toll on both of us, but particularly for Dominika who has had a bit of a chaotic year all round really – The poor lass has deserved more of a holiday than this to be honest, and I’ve got to admit, there’s a bit of guilt on my part to have insisted on staying on in Białstok to get the work done, when I for one have little to show for it.

In turn, adjusting to living in Białystok full-time for both of us over the last year is beginning to take its toll, if not on our personal relationship, for no other reason than the fact Białstok long term has little to offer bar its wonderful people – It actually reminds me a lot of my home town but without the mixture of nightlife and alternative cultural directive that Sunderland has to offer. It often can quite simply feel like a cultural desert. If it wasn’t for Gallery Arsenal’s efforts to bring something in the way of contemporary art to the city, the place would actually be dead for me! Finding something of real substance in the studio is one thing, and can be seen as a challenge to overcome, but finding something ‘inspiring’, away from the big-city life which came with living in Warsaw is something completely different… Truth is, for all its provincial charm, Białstok itself can be quite boring as a place to live and in the long-run, sadly holds little interest for either of us… Indeed, the funny thing is that anything which has proved remotely entertaining culturally and socially (i.e. good old Rubikon and the mates we made there) seems to cease to exist in Białstok the moment Dominika and I touch it – Mind you, in Poland generally, we seem to have this effect on places – Ask Emilia about Gdzieś Jeszcze in Warsaw :-)

In consequence then, none of this makes an approach to galleries in Berlin feasible just yet; and this was the main goal this summer beyond finishing the work which frightens the shit out of me sometimes. Of course, none of this signals the end of the world, but as far as our career moves are concerned, things were planned to happen now and it all remains so bloody frustrating that we haven’t even yet got off the drawing board!

You could draw the conclusion here that everything is going just a tad askew, but you’d be wrong. The frustration really does stem from the fact that we, or rather I, have been a little too ambitious with schedules! The positives are there for all to see too. Life in Białystok, although often like covering your eyes with a blindfold and throwing yourself into a darkened pit, isn’t exactly that bad and we’ve made a lot of new friends while living here. The lack of distractions outside of the studio also allows for greater development which, although taking too god-dam long, would most likely have taken twice as long if we were still living our double lives with me in Warsaw and Dominika stuck here the majority of the time. And again, being able to pop up to Lake Serwy whenever we like, it simply makes you glad to be alive.

On the whole, it was a lovely week away. Swimming in the clear waters every day has the knack of washing away the troubles of the world and being away from work did help a fair bit to put ideas into a bit more of a clear perspective!

Mind you, perspective up there, where you truly do feel cut off from the rest of the world, is often an ambiguous affair to say the least. Put aside the seasonal excitement of hunting for wild mushrooms in the forest for example, or the occasional fisherman arriving to dive for Pike – spear in hand, then, on the way back from posting my Godson’s birthday card at the nearest post office, which incidentally lies a good ten kilometre bike ride away, we came across a car crash right next to the cottage. Virtually the whole population had turned out with deckchairs and picnics to gaze on in wonder while the local constabulary took control, or rather lack of control of the situation, for get caught by the Police crossing the road while the green man is red then they chuck you in jail and through away the key. In the lakes there’s clearly a different agenda… The road which runs through the village from Las Podserski in the north to Płaska in the south has never struck me as the safest of roads, but between Police cordon and completely concertinaed cars, to watch speeding, and I mean fast, cars ignore any attempt to slow down from a trillion miles an hour as they screeched their way past the wrecked cars, onlookers, us two on our bikes and a young copper trying in vain to slow them down was just flabbergasting to behold… The young copper just smiled knowingly at Dominika, and while I expected some sort of pursuit to ensue, noted instead how happy everyone was to let it all pass in a haze of an afternoon well spent.

In fact, we spent most of the week ourselves in a haze - a vapour of exercise, through long treks through the forest, swimming in the lake - including one midnight drunken plunge which was absolutely magnificent – you couldn’t feel the chill of the lake at all, although I did suffer what has turned out to be a broken toe as a consequence! I’ve discovered the best way to avoid the agony of the cold the lake offers you is to just go for it at almost lightning speed by running as fast as you can in the shallows until it’s deep enough to dive in. It’s this run that was probably the undoing of my toe!

Bike rides of course played a big part in the proceedings and on one such outing, we at last came across a bar, which although it looks here quite, well, completely Cowboys and Indians has proved unsurpassed by anything else the region has to offer in the way of a traditional pub atmosphere! The beer was outstanding, particularly after mile after mile pedalling away in roasting temperatures, the bar-staff didn’t appear as if they had a poker up their arses, and the place in general rocked in a way which has been hard to find in Poland generally… Add to all this the fact Cosciniec was linked to the internet too, then we were on cloud nine for a couple of hours

In between all the healthy activity and the occasional night in guzzling and dancing to the latest compilation we made while there, Dominika also managed to work on taking some rather tasty looking photographs which have turned out to be bloody brilliant - although of course she doesn’t quite see it like that herself. But anyway, the thought did occur to me about perhaps doing some work towards a show together… Think the idea would horrify her to be honest, but the thought seems second nature to me. Her photos, which she does just see as simple snapshots, but look much more considered than that, certainly inspired me anyway… Their simplicity, and this isn’t the first time she’s exhibited true genius in my opinion, are completely stimulating and also got me thinking about how much clear-cut painting could and should be for me (oh, I wish). To honest the thought of collaborating and exhibiting together really doesn’t seem a daft idea at all. Our take on the world bear incredible similarities which when combined with our completely different upbringing and life experience could and should result in something really exciting. I’d love it to happen, but perhaps realistically this’s something for the future!

Again then, we’ll see - For now, do zobaczenia!

UGLINESS IS IN A WAY SUPERIOR TO BEAUTY..,

.., because it lasts… Just over a week to go to ‘independence day’ and the deadline which was to bring about a new body for me and two paintings ready to expose to the unsuspecting gallery owners of Warsaw and Berlin, and neither has a cat-in-hell’s-chance of being realised on time – Both aspects are coming along nicely without doubt, but it’s also interesting to note that, although in their current state one mirrors the other in hideousness, they differ so much in that one resembles a horror show, the other a vision of godliness.

It’s true; although my target weight of 80 kilos is only 2 kilos away and might just be possible, though I doubt it, I am however fairly proud of the fact that I’ve kept up my early morning runs for exactly seven weeks now; but dropping from 90 kilos to my current weight of 82, although promising, has ironically left my body looking rather peculiar to say the least! I can’t exactly pinpoint where the fat’s been shed, but what is left is a much fitter fella with a belly and man boobs to be sick over! As we all know, these particular bits of flab seem always to be the last to shift, so at this rate I’ve got at least another two to three months of simply looking daft!

OFTEN USING MYSELF AS A MODEL, ‘DAFT’ ISN’T HOW THE PAINTINGS ARE LOOKING HOWEVER…

… and the last couple of months work, although in retrospect the deadline I gave myself was just a bit stupid, is most definitely on track … I can honestly say, since my mother’s death almost two years ago now, that apart from the small show in Białystok at the beginning of the year, this is the first time that painting is beginning to make sense – With two, and hopefully three 120 X 100’s on the go soon, and with Dominika around to reassure me not to panic about finishing stuff off but simply to concentrate on painting and knout else, this is exactly the advice I’m following… What we have in consequence IS a return to a certain amount of narrative and more importantly the figure, and it’s starting to look pretty god-dam good…

‘Man with shifty hands and rubber neck’ (Working Title) is well on its way and is free of any of the less unaffected way I have approached the figure in the past – Good thing too, as I believe this liberates the use of narrative. Anyway, all going well, if not a bit slower than planned, but that aside, and I’m truly excited about what is developing…

AND ALSO PERHAPS SOMETHING TO GET EXCITED ABOUT HERE…

Anna Tomaszuk – ‘matka i córka’ - Oil on Canvas - 100X100cm 2006

Anna Tomaszuk isn’t of course the only talent to frequent this land, but as I’ve moaned so often about in the past, good painters in Poland remain for me rather a concealed bunch…

What appears to happen here is that the art societies look after their own regardless of talent, with societies for this, and organizations for that being just about the be all and end all! For instance, although I was led to believe it was possible, it turns out not to be, and the only real venues worth approaching for selling from in Warsaw remain out of reach for a foreigner like me. One needs to be a member of the Society of Polish Artists to be able to do so, and while told this was a distinct possibility, it turned out to be nothing of the sort, as informed a week or so ago that eligibility depends on Polish citizenship! Marriage to Dominika perhaps..? Sorry, I’m not prepared to condemn her to such a sentence just yet, and in consequence, (if we put my own predicament aside for a moment - although I’m not averse to blowing my own trumpet), Warsaw misses out on seeing less well established artists from abroad in two of their most commercial and well attended galleries in favour of gobbling up what appears to be the same old boys and their amateur associates time and time again…

Anyway, before I lose the plot too much here, Anna Tomaszuk, a young talent without doubt, but a raw talent who, if she manages to avoid the usual comfort zone here, should continue to develop well as an artist!


Anna Tomaszuk – ‘Przyjaciółki’ - Oil on Canvas - 100X100cm 2006


Although slightly older, someone else worth a look here – Marta Tomczyk:

Marta Tomczyk – ‘without title one’ – Oil on Canvas – 120X100cm

LEON TARASEWICZ – GENIUS OR ONE HIT WONDER?

Białystok isn’t exactly blessed with too many contemporary art venues – In fact, for its size and hard edged reputation, where you would expect to find at least two or three small alternative style galleries tucked away here and there somewhere off the high-street, there is in fact none… What it lacks in this respect however is more than made up for by Galeria Arsenal.

Attached to the city's beautiful Pałac Branickich w Białymstoku it boasts a calendar of rolling exhibitions which range in their international substance as much as any that Warsaw has to offer. But, like most venues, shows can be hit and miss regardless of their cultural status, so having work by Leon Tarasewicz, whether genius or not, for me this month - a definite hit…

The current work on show represents a rather sketchy, though interesting retrospective of work however by one of Białystok’s own. Rated among the top ten most important contemporary artists in Poland, Tarasewicz also rates as possibly one of only two or three high profile painters I’ve actually come to like here myself. The problem as things currently stand however, as evident by viewing the work first hand in Białystok, is that Tarasewicz clearly displayed his greatest powers as a painter early on in his career and now appears to be stuck somewhere in no-man’s land or worse still for a painter, the proverbial corner.

Pared down to become almost nothing but motif, his earliest canvases are saved from being mere pattern by a clear link to their original source and a sublime use of unadorned figuration!

1987 - 190 x 260 - dyptyk, olej na płótnie

Unfortunately not so in recent times! Whether Tarasewicz is going through a personal battle with content or bending to the pressure of intellectual conceptualism is unclear. His output in recent years has remained true to his passion for the Polish Landscape and his subject remains clear in reference to earlier work, but for whatever reason, what has become evident is that the artist has essentially abandoned his prowess as a painter and ‘the canvas’ alike in favour of a much less considered means of painting - finding its expression in a giddy kaleidoscope of colour adorning the very fabric of numerous venues and self built rooms as a poor cousin to installation.

Still, the show’s definitely worth a look as the artist at worst remains intriguing with his best work outweighing the bad…! Also showing this month: New / Old Routes, a selection of Central Asian Video: Simply tedious in my honest opinion!

AND ON A SAD NOTE..,

.., we’ve just learnt that the place which has essentially become our local – a place which effortlessly plays our endless CD compilations for fun – a place where incidental acquaintances have become good mates, is due to close at the end of June...

Propping up the bar in Rubikon – Photo: Michał Opryszczko

... It’s a long and stupid story of government regulation, whereby the block in which Rubikon is attached is to be demolished and rebuilt because of some clause which deems it illegal when built under communism, this giving some opportunist developer scavenging rights to what is essentially a sound building and great pub… This of course leaves the poor owners out of pocket and ‘more importantly’ nowhere that bears the simplest resemblance to a real pub for Dominika and me to sup in, bar only one other - Tawerna way out on the other side of town… Sad..? Devastating actually!

AN ERROR DOES NOT BECOME A MISTAKE UNTIL YOU REFUSE TO CORRECT IT

Bit of a chaotic yet delightful week away which saw us travelling more than’s fit for old bones and unnecessarily agonizing over work left behind in Białystok; but, with Dominika basking in the glory of bumping into ‘Kevin the Fireman’ in one of the many Irish Bars in Warsaw, then it was more than worth all the worry of being away from the studio and putting the body through just a tad more than’s healthy for it.

Who the devil is ‘Kevin the fireman’ though I hear you ask..! Well, Kevin, is a bit of a celebrity here who, being English, takes part in one of those reality TV shows where I gather, because I’ve got to say I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing it, he and fellow foreigners ‘compete’ in a word fest by showing off their competence in Polish prose and the like… Dominika’s favourite, Kevin is unbelievably fluent in Polish, but thankfully, because of a little dig from Dominika regarding my own inadequacies regarding the language, admitted in broad cockney how it’s taken him fifteen ‘blaady’ years of hard graft to get where he is today..!

Anyway, Kevin aside, and on our return the two canvases I began a couple of weeks ago revealed themselves as having nothing more but the hallmarks of ‘mistake’ plastered all over them.., not, I might add, from the lack of competence, but as this week’s useful break clarified, because they reflect fully the type of painter I simply don’t want to be!

So, all change once again it is then beginning today! This.., along with an agreement between Dominika and myself for change on all counts regarding our work and social lives alike, including the dreaded but necessary need for exercise which I began myself yesterday with my first run in nearly six months – I’m physically dying as a result today but mentally in much better fettle to face the fight ahead.

Last week then, if not a little over indulgent, was a tonic for the soul and did manage to clarify a lot of things regarding future plans. Combining a bit of work it was great again to catch up with a few old mates with visits to Poznan where we met up with Zbyszek and Wiola for three days at one of the lakes nearby to chill and ‘help’ Zbyszek get to grips with his new found fame as a now published novelist ;-) After a final day there shaking off two days of supping to get fit for Warsaw and the inevitable drinking sessions to follow, we set off on the five hour journey to meet up with Andrzej and Jasz, who once again kindly put us up for a couple of nights (this time in their currently empty new apartment which in addition to being big enough to house a fleet of buses, overlooks the whole city centre in a way which only really happens as backdrops in Manhattan style movies) before kindly posing for next year’s entry for the BP Awards.

After a great photo session which saw Andrzej and Jasz posing to perfection and the inevitable disappointment of searching out and finding lokal_30 closed again (underlining the fact that Warsaw might just have to be bypassed to get to where we’re going) we headed off down to Jazz Pub calling in at the Irish bar on the way first where Kevin lifted the spirits before Wisia would lift them further… You may remember I’ve mentioned Wisia, the ex super-model before… Now the owner of Jazz Pub, she remains one of the greatest attractions of Warsaw for both Dominika and myself alike, and although she refuses still to pose for shots, so remaining elusive regarding a desire to be painted, she did finally surrender to two or three drunken snaps as Dominika whipped out the camera :-)

Yup, a grand week had by all, but a week which was bound to remind one of one’s priorities. All hands to the pump it is from now on then, with a clear vision of Berlin beyond these wonderful fields of Poland!

HAVE PROMISED MYSELF TO AVOID TOO MUCH FOOTBALL TALK HERE

.., but one final word must be given to the lads who are Sunderland Association Football Club for rounding off a brilliant week by winning the Championship in such style to bring back the kind of pride which, for us long suffering supporters, we thought impossible just a year ago when we were the laughing stock of the football world.., being as it were then the worst top-flight club in history! Premiership here we now come however, and you Manchester Uniteds, Chelseas and Arsenals just better watch your rich arse backsides for we are definitely on the rise again :-)

Click on the photo above to view a little video made by one of our supporters - It certainly brought a tear of joy to this soft bugger anyway..!

MICHAŁ OPRYSZCZKO – PROVIDER OF ‘SPIRITS’ AND BEER

As well as pulling the occasional ‘pint’ of Żywiec for me down at Rubikon, Michał Opryszczko also takes photographs..! In fact, the whole bar is proving to be a magnificent resource of young talent and good conversation, with Michał ranking as one amongst three of the gifted bar staff who have studied art… (Situated in Nowy Świat, our adopted local by the way is well worth a visit if you’re ever passing through Białystok).

Michał Opryszczko - 'Look To Another Time'

Now I know, Art, more than any other activity, is overloaded with amateurs, and it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, if and when you’ve been rumbled as an artist, to learn that just about everyone you meet in a bar daubs a bit here and chisels a bit there themselves. What does occasionally come as a surprise however is when some actually turn out to be the genuine article and even more – good…!

This thankfully is the case with Michał. Young he may well be, but already he is showing promise beyond his age. As a photographer he already flogs the odd shot or two to the press and in my opinion is beginning to build a portfolio which has in it the odd photo or two which rank as some of the best work I’ve seen here in Poland since my arrival two years ago!

His work is well worth a look here.

SOMETHING BREWING

And whatever it is, it isn’t a refreshing glass of the amber stuff!

Now I’m not one to believe in premonitions, or even predictions of any kind, but I don’t know, there’s something not quite right since we moved from Warsaw and my ‘confidence’ seems to be diminishing the longer we remain here.

Dominika calls it the curse of Bialystok (actually, I’m being dramatic here to keep the doom and gloom mood going); she can occasionally be heard to cry out ‘Bloody Bialystok’ when things are not going quite right, nothing more…

‘Curse’ however seems an appropriate word for whatever is effecting today's mood…

I dunno, perhaps being on my own so much lately, feeling a bit homesick, or just that, the reality that we seem to see so much less of one another since we moved here, but there’s definitely a cloud hanging over me and Dominika both at the moment which I don’t see lifting until we are properly together and can finally begin living life like any other ‘normal’ couple…

Dominika particularly feels this and seems overly desperate sometimes to kick off the old baggage completely and get going - Can't say I disagree, but everything would be so much easier if only 'certain factions' saw our love for what it is and gave genuine support rather than what can only be described sometimes as shear disgust and hatred regarding our union…

Ah, I’m surely talking bollix, things aren’t that ghastly, we certainly have a wonderful time whenever we’re left alone to get on with stuff together and poor Dominika isn't being pulled from pillar to post!

Yeah, simply just a bad day… Positive thinking – that's what's needed - aye, bring it on!

SAINT GEORGE'S DAY

I guess most of us aren’t much bothered that it's St George's Day tomorrow. Unlike the Scots, the Welsh, but more especially the Irish, who proudly celebrate their national days, the English are largely oblivious to April 23. While Celts take great delight in wrapping themselves in their national flags, the English aren't even always sure if they have one in particular beyond the Union Jack...? Well, that’s the way it used to be no more than twenty years ago...

It’s now trendy 'again' to be English, or that’s how ‘the market’ hopes it were and tries its best to make it so, for it's impossible not to be aware Saint George is here..!

However, just as it used to be that most of us have never felt it necessary to make a song and dance about being English, I suspect most still feel the same today regardless of any recent efforts by government and media alike to bring our identities in line with those of our immediate neighbours… I suspect the main reason for this indifference is actually based on the uneasiness surrounding the fact that unfortunately, since Scotland and Wales have achieved some semblance of self rule, just as the Union Jack was usurped by nationalist and their skinhead devotees beforehand, England and its emblem have now been hijacked by modern-day racist groups and their ‘charva’ following.

There remain more aspects to love about England than to hate however which for me anyway are to a great extent based firmly on the multicultural factors to have emerged since the middle of the twentieth century.., and until the bigots who currently wrap themselves in the beautiful Saint George Cross simply crawl back from whence they came, then I won’t be bothering with April the twenty third.

NOLI ME TANGERE

Perhaps the most important moment in the catholic calendar for both the hierarchy of the Church and the oppression of women alike.

Noli Me Tangere – Giotto - Arena Chapel

Described in John’s gospel, ‘Touch me not’, is the one moment in the life (or death or resurrection) of Christ, whereby the future repression or emancipation of women hangs ‘erotically’ in the balance. After his resurrection, the ‘fact’ that Christ appears first to Mary Magdalene and not St. Peter, as Peter himself would later proclaim, is all the ‘proof’, and what the blokes in charge of the Catholic Church down the ages have feared most, that Gnostics and ‘Da Vinci Code fans’ alike need to suggest that Christ favoured Mary Magdalene above all the other disciples and at this very moment sought out her alone to pass on the reins of leadership.

Peter had other ideas of course, and to play down the moment, the Church consequently includes the little ‘Touch me not’ proviso to the narrative..! Historically in art, you’d be hard pressed to find any images depicting the scene other than Christ’s rebuff of Mary; I've personally come across only a couple of examples - Jacob Cornelisz (c. 1515) and this one by Cano (c. 1640).

For now then, Szczęśliwy Wielkanoc (?) Oh, p.s., and although the snow did melt after all by the end of the day yesterday, it’s back again today – about three inches of the bloody stuff [Shocked Smilie]

WHAT’S GOING ON..,

.., with the weather here? IT’S APRIL THE EIGHTH MAN and because it’s been so warm of late, I’ve been sleeping with the balcony door ajar… Waking up with teeth chattering however, let it be known that in Poland, even at this time of year, this just isn’t a good idea unless hyperthermia is a desire… Yes, you’ve guessed; this is what greeted me from the balcony at 7.00 this morning, and although snow isn’t unheard of even in England around Easter, after weeks of clear skies and T-Shirt high temperatures, it’s suddenly cold enough for this stuff to hang around for a while!

So, glove and woolly hat weather again is what’s going on outside, inside and what we finally have is the beginnings of some new work on the 'gold for canvases' from Warsaw which has seen a return to the figure. Perhaps incorporating some urban elements, (although the plans carried out so far suggest otherwise), the last couple of days painting has been a pleasure. Not counting chickens just yet, for it can all so easily go horribly wrong within the blink of an eye, but the promise of something special is in the offing here! Steady as she goes then and should have something new to publish here in the next couple of weeks.