A MODERATELY MOTTLED WEEK - SUMMER SKIES THIS MORNING

Following the meeting last week after a mere two days respite from the snot and throbbing, the damn ‘Flu’ was back again with a vengeance. As a result, I spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday back in bed as sick as a sausage in dirty dish water. As opposed to feeling well enough to do so come Tuesday however, and the shear boredom finally forced me to haul myself out of bed where I at least got some of the awaiting donkey work done – the kind of stuff such as attaching hanging brackets to canvases and writing statements which takes longer than you imagine but always put off until the last minute in the lead up to an exhibition. Also, because it’s cheaper here to buy the best quality ready-made canvases than it is to knock them up yourself, I ventured out to purchase a new one from, of all places the DIY store across town, for what should be the final piece for the show – a fairly medium sized affair, but somewhat ambitious arrangement planned where the countless encounters with previous configurations should come together in a kind of climax of mood and composition. I laid the ground for it on Wednesday morning, and the current use of greys just seems to be getting better and better. What appears at first to be a flat square of lifelessness within a minute or two becomes a subtle display of colour with enough going on that it could almost be left in its current state. Indeed, if the comments I got from some friends were to be believed, and if I had any mercenary sense at all, then it should be left as it is – You get pieces of work like this occasionally - ‘Lucky Canvases’ we call them in the trade, since it seems that from the word go everything you do to them comes off.

Anyhow, viewing most of what I have on the go on Wednesday night over a couple of beers, Anka, Bogdan and Edyta believed the newly begun painting to be not just finished but ‘rather nice’, with Edyta deciding initially that it was her favourite. Hell.., if only it were that simple – I had to try to explain that yes, if I was a painter and decorator then agreed – yeah, I’d be happy with the results too. Truth is though; if someone else had produced the thing then I would be happy with it. Unfortunately as a painter it’s just not the way it works however – You just can’t skip the journey to get there… Fortunately, the reassuring thing was that they seemed to take to the finished work as well – thank god!

‘Lucky Canvas’ it may well be then, but such comments do make you chew over your overall intensions, so I spent the day before yesterday giving it a quick look of approval in passing before popping out to stock up on provisions for the Christmas shut-down and yesterday feeling reluctant to touch it again until I’ve given myself enough time to see the futility in leaving it alone. Actually, it might be best left until after the seasonal festivities anyway. There’s plenty of time come the new year to get stuck in before the show anyway, and we have a trip to Warsaw planned next week to see the New Year in and to approach a couple of galleries to take the drawings on, on a delivery/sales basis. There’s also an interesting exhibition of current Polish painting on at Zachęta we want to see which should also prove useful before I push on.

Talking of seasonal festivities, and I popped out to the pub last night to grab a little of the hustle and bustle we’ve learnt to expect at this time of year back in England but there was me and only the barman to keep me company for most of the evening, prompting me to think that perhaps Daniel was right for a change about Polish traditions when he warned me not to expect too much excitement at this time of year (his off beam list to-date includes: mute bar staff, no chance of finding brown sugar or gift vouchers in Poland and never referring to academic professors on a first name basis)… Anyway, he’d informed me with the confidence of a man who knows that the majority here traditionally, and to a certain extent out of duty to be with family, simply retire in-doors from Christmas Eve, when the main Christmas meal of Carp is eaten in a long drawn out process reminiscent of the church rituals here, to the day after Boxing Day. It may have been late in the day, but the hangover this bright Christmas morning is proof enough that Daniel was wrong once again… Around nine-thirty the door of ‘Taverna’ was flung open like floodgates as the hordes poured in, leaving me with little alternative than to pick up the night where it should have begun three hours earlier! With Dominika off home to do her own family duty there was little need to pack up early anyway, and with Jerzy (the English speaking guy I know in ‘Taverna’) suddenly parked next to me, along with his mates Andrzej, Andrzej and Andrzej we began our own well worn Christmas traditions by exercising our drinking arms and in-between draughts and singing sea shanties partaking in a little arm wrestling with the looser having to buy the drinks - This is clearly a bona fide Polish tradition as all three Andrzej’s along with Jerzy, who looked to be the beatable one, were visibly well practiced in the art, leaving me well out of pocket by the end of the evening! That said, and I’m sure the flu had something to do with my lack of power and prowess though!

For now, from what looks like a summer’s day here in bright and beautiful Białystok -Wesołych Swiąt!

OFF AND RUNNING

The meeting with the exhibitions officer at the Filharmonia went really well yesterday with the date fixed for the opening just before violinist Piotr Pławner takes the stage on February 2, and I must admit, all quite exciting stuff since I haven’t shown since 2004. I’ve got to say, Daniel’s been brilliant in organising the whole thing from beginning to end – I thought I was wanted at the meeting yesterday, to swing things, but was simply a bit part in the whole scenario as he took centre stage and had quite clearly swung the whole deal before we’d even set foot in the place – He’s definitely in the wrong job, for although his translating skills came in useful yesterday, as an agent, I’ve never seen anyone work so quickly in establishing contacts and his genius most definitely lies in the art of persuasion – He’s already courting someone in Łódź to have the exhibition moved there after it comes down here!

As far as sales go here however, well, we’ll just have to wait and see… The gallery itself is fairly top notch in the sense that it attracts a fairly wealthy as well as educated clientele since it’s attached to the city’s philharmonic hall – a beautiful modern theatre which attracts some quite big name orchestras and classical star turns; however, as far as selling, well, the art market in Poland generally is pretty depressed… But, fingers crossed, for you never know, I mean, I’ve managed to flog one large painting privately since arriving in Białystok just a matter of a couple of months ago, so you can never tell..? For now then, back to the grind stone…Ps Will publish the full body of work on the website at paul-brewster.piczo.com, as and when I’ve got some decent photos to make it worth while, but for now, below, the unfinished canvas I’m working on right now as it looks this very day.

WORK IN PROGRESS

Acrylic on Canvas - 80X100cm

ON A HAT-TRICK

Two full days in bed dedicated to nursing the flu, and I fully intended to make it three today unless I became entirely convinced that there was reason enough to defy the gods of providence. Although the damage could have been worse, I should have heeded the obvious from the off anyway however, as it was clear the moment I’d prised open the sticky lids covering congealed pus for eyes and had stabbed the left one of them with the arm of my glasses that the day was against me from the very start. And trying to fight this, even with purpose, is quite simply the actions of a fool – a lesson learnt long ago that no good comes from it – things are quite simply best left well alone!

But, as I was lying here first thing searching for ways to pass the time and suppress the inevitable guilt that comes with untimely illness, (reading a modern classic as apposed to bashing the old baboon is recommended here), a rather pleasant column of warm light had already pushed its way past the small slit at the lying edge of the roller blind to crawl the short distance it takes to reach the head of the bed to administer much needed U V Rays to long suffering S A D Eyes – this was surely a clear sign for optimism and I gradually began to feel that the options need not be so limiting – a call for action even considering the incessant weeks of darkness we’re having to get used to here!

With renewed hope then, I gently gripped both arms of my specs, placing with care the hooks of them where they belonged, this time behind the ears and took a minute or two to soak up a little more of the unexpected sunshine before taking a tentative look past the sliding door of the bedroom to the living room beyond. In doing so I was almost defeated before I’d begun… The room bore nothing of my usual anally retentive tidiness but instead resembled more what’s usually referred to as the aforementioned with the word ‘hole’ attached, and by the time I’d shuffled across the threshold, it smelt like it too! It’s amazing what even two days of inert neglect can do to the inanimate world, so it didn’t come as too much of a surprise, after I’d picked my way through the discarded debris from two nights ago and the accruements to go with survival on packet soup and processed cheese slices, to find a barely animate, yet clearly alive Robinson Crusoe (or does the beard continue to grow after death) staring back at me from the bathroom mirror! And, if the smell in the living room was bad, then the stench in there was, and remains horrific! Receptacles had been missed, stuff was missing, and stuff and matter replaced it, on the floor, wall tiles, even the ceiling seemed to be dripping stuff that can only be described as, well, stuff! Ignoring this, and I’ve closed the door to ignore it all for just a bit longer, I went about the manly rituals of shit, shave, shower - in that order - whistling all the while to the tune of a promised bright new dawn regardless. Well, I got as far as the shaving bit that is, if you can call it that, for the disposable razor in the grip of a flu infested man is a cut-throat in the dancing hands of St. Vitas himself, and by the time I’d finished the job of scraping my face, most of the covering layer of skin was, I’m sure, lying in the pink soapy waters of the wash basin…

Hoodwinked by a sympathetic bit of winter sunshine maybe then, but not quite the dope I sometimes think I am. The mighty flu bug rules ok, so I didn’t risk doing to the canvases what I’d just done to my face, and here I now sit, back in my stinking pit, patches of bog roll glued to my face by ever quickening blood clots, lap-top on lap, pulling on strings that have already snapped!

A mixed week really then, what with the madness of Jaws from the pub, accompanied by a few solid days of work, followed now by the delirium of two (soon to be three) days here in bed. A rest, even at the hands of the flu has its benefits I suppose though, and as a result of this bloody bug, perhaps so too has having to put off the meeting this week with ‘the exhibitions officer’ at the Filharmonia, which Daniel, who’s taken it on himself (the man’s a star) to act as a kind of intermediary agent for me, has re-arranged for the same time next week - From what he’s relayed to me as a result of subsequent talks he’s had with her so far, the exhibition is set to happen now sometime in January and not, as I feared, sometime ‘tomorrow’! Although the whole thing still has an air of urgency about it, this news has eased the pressure a bit, and from my sick bed I’ve decided there’s now time, when less shaky and the gods are back on my side of course, to push ahead with two larger canvases I’d planned on delaying but which the show really needs to make it go with a swing.

PURE EXISTENTIALISM

There was a lad, Mickey, I remember from secondary school who simply took it for granted that the world existed only as far as his eyesight extended, and nothing beyond his immediate experience and his love of Sunderland Association Football Club subsisted otherwise. Scarier still, being an avid away, as well as home supporter, meant the world only ever ‘expanded’ for him roughly on a fortnightly basis as and when he travelled to follow the team away from home. Despite this extensive roving however, he continued to understand each and every new town or city throughout his wide-ranging travels as a place which miraculously only appeared for away games and this purpose alone – Leeds, Manchester etc., even neighbouring Newcastle, ceased to exist for him as soon as the game was over and he was safely tucked up in his seat on the coach home!

For some unknown reason in my local the other night two fairly weird things happened which reminded me of Mickey… The first happens often enough as par for the course back in England if you frequent drinking holes regularly enough on your own that is, and although the ravings of numerous old drunks for me are nothing particularly horrendous back home, as a foreigner here it continues to unnerve, mainly for the lack of understanding and the cacophony of one way noise that accompanies this…

So anyway, sitting in the hope of having a quiet beer on my way home from buying some canvas, this old guy plonks himself down opposite me and proceeds in a very animated manner to pose question after question continuously in Polish, to which my increasingly diminishing replies of ‘nie rozumiem’, (although I suspected he was after a free glass of something cold), were laughed off in loud whinnying cackles through a huge mouth full of silver crowns and wild shakes of the head! (What was name of the guy in James Bond with the teeth?) Anyway, after about twenty minutes or so of this, for I didn’t have the heart or energy to send him packing, a bloke I chat in English to occasionally at the bar arrives and joins the table… It transpires, the old bloke, (Jaws, that was the guy’s name – Jaws!), who in turn, turns out to have been a genuine veteran of the special services during WWII but subsequently has lost the odd marble or two, held the firm belief that I was a Polish under-cover agent and that my Englishness was merely a smokescreen! I mean, what can you say to this? Nothing I or we tried would convince him otherwise and he toddled off tittering and snapping his sharks teeth at anyone he caught looking in his direction, only to return minutes later with three shots of the best Polish to salute our honourable profession!

And, profession is what brought character number three to the table… The large canvas I had leaning against the window was invitation enough for this rather sharp looking geezer I’d noticed checking me out on a number of earlier occasions with what seemed like weeks of fleeting edginess in passing to finally make his introductions! I might add, I feared the worse, as his previously cursory glances did seem a little less than friendly as and when our eyes met briefly during instances I was ordering at the bar in my broken Polish - Białystok is and remains staunchly reactionary and I’m not altogether quite sure yet how tolerant of outsiders..?

Wrong again however, but this is how weird this place can seem..! The guy, like everyone I’ve met here so far, is as friendly as they come, but just how friendly is friendly believable..? The conversation starts off conventionally enough, although my suspicions that indeed he had been keeping an eye on me since my arrival around six weeks ago turned out to be quantifiable, it was also inevitably totally innocent – He’d been looking out for an English speaker to coach his son, and it turns out that he’d simply been eavesdropping to check out my ‘verbal skills’ without wanting to bother me… However, here’s the weird bit: After, the arrival of yet more Vodka and a few of the usual exchanges between new acquaintances – how I’m finding it living in Poland, what I’m doing here, where am I living etc., to which I explained about needing to find somewhere else to live soon… Well, on hearing this, he only goes and offers me one of his apartments rent free..? Now, I take this as meaning in exchange for coaching his son… Not so, and I don’t know about you, but I find this just a wee bit strange and ask what the catch is? No catch he tells me, so we exchange phone numbers and I’m out of there as soon as the last drop of vodka blazes my lips promising I’d be in touch after the exhibition in a few weeks time…

BRAKE - GENTLY - SLOW DOWN –

- Give yourself time to take in the scenery…

Sometimes I just can’t grasp the speed of events here in Poland. Certain aspects, like a simple excursion around town are wrought with frustrating hours of inertia at pelican crossings (it’s illegal to cross until the green ‘fella’ gets you going), in queues (for everything ranging from buying a loaf of bread to posting a letter), and if you’re unlucky enough to choose one of the many bars here with waiter service, sitting with an empty glass until the cows come home… When it comes to the loftier things in life however, you can guarantee, proceedings happen within the blink of an eye!

The exhibition at Filharmonia was touted only around two weeks ago, but after a meeting proposed for some time next week, if the thing comes off, the work will be nailed to the walls within two weeks more – Hardly enough time to breathe let alone assess what I’ve done or enjoy the experience before the public gets their chance to criticise, and the work is either packed away or gone forever in exchange for hard cash (fingers crossed)!

And the work itself? Well, if not exactly going slowly, still continues to feel like it! This’s more down to my own mental capacity to take it in right now however, rather than the amount of work I’ve done since moving from Warsaw only six weeks ago! All be it smallish work, nine canvases completed with just three on the go to finish for the show isn’t a bad return by anyone’s standards, and it has to be said, the experience in such a sustained period of production really has got me back into the way of painting again – Simply to have been able to stand back briefly and view a body of work, which in whatever way for the first time in absolutely ages is beginning to show signs of consistency and purpose again, had me embarrassingly punching the air for a change instead of brooding over what the hell I was doing with my life! A small victory perhaps, but a huge step in grasping the purpose of it all again!