the slide

END OF MESSAGE…

2009-08-14T10:10:00.002+01:00

... 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…

2009-01-01T01:01:00.002Z

... 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...

2008-11-15T10:19:00.006Z

... 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..,

2008-10-08T10:49:00.003+01:00

.., 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"

2008-10-07T10:38:00.008+01:00

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 to you...

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

ENGLAND'S GREEN AND...

2008-07-18T10:56:00.012+01:00

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

2008-05-17T08:50:00.009+01:00

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

2008-04-25T08:21:00.002+01:00

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…

2008-04-23T13:46:00.020+01:00

… 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

2008-04-14T09:31:00.006+01:00

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

2008-04-13T09:01:00.000+01:00

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 . 2008

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

2008-02-18T16:00:00.014Z

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’.

2007-11-14T14:44:00.000Z

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

2007-10-01T10:21:00.001+01:00

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

2007-09-20T13:05:00.001+01:00

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..,

2007-08-31T09:26:00.000+01:00

.., 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

2007-08-26T14:07:00.001+01:00

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..,

2007-06-26T10:40:00.000+01:00

.., 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?

2007-05-25T17:43:00.000+01:00

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

2007-05-07T11:53:00.001+01:00

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

2007-04-26T07:26:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-23T09:59:00.003+01:00

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

2007-04-22T13:33:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-09T07:15:00.000+01:00

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..,

2007-04-08T07:26:00.000+01:00

.., 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.

‘WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, IT’S NOT AS IMPORTANT AS STROKING THE CAT’..,

2007-04-02T08:04:00.000+01:00

.., an old Polish proverb which clearly must apply to what the suppliers have been up to over the last couple of months or so instead of getting my canvases done.

Last Thursday’s desperate enquiry on my part was the last straw when it ended in yet more excuses and another proposed week’s delay leaving me with knout, or very little, to be getting on with for more time than I could bear or afford - the excuse this time being that ‘the machine’ used to stretch the bloody things wasn’t.., as an abbreviation of a more recent Polish proverb goes: “.., broken, but.., uh.., modular”...

Inexpensive, ‘ready-mades’ might be, but the whole experience has left me wishing it were less expensive to knock up the buggers myself in the future, but it’s quite simply not, and it’s virtually impossible to get hold of reasonably priced linen or cotton for less cash than the finished product eventually costs – strange - but true...

So anyway, finally, what I should have done weeks ago, and a 400 Kilometre round trip to pick up two '120 X 100 Windsor and Newtons' from Warsaw was the outcome last Saturday. Not as expensive as it may sound either, and to have the brilliant white things set up in the ‘studio’ right now is already getting the juices flowing again.

And although the juices are unfortunately flowing in other ways too, as I have a voraciously stinking cold making merely shuffling around painful when in Warsaw, it was also great to spend a day back in the capital again. The trip gave me a chance to check out one of the galleries I want to eventually approach (the other was unfortunately but unsurprisingly closed), and what I found at Gallery Program gladly lifted the heart. Good stuff to be found in Warsaw is without doubt possible, but has proved hard to find, and the discovery of this place and hopefully local_30 in the future helps greatly with any forthcoming prospects.

Okay then, with work to be getting on with at last, for now, do zobaczenia, and, as I begin to attack these virgin canvases, I’ll leave you with just one more Polish maxim: “It's better to copulate than never” – Wise words indeed.

NO ONE'S AN ISLAND AND ALL THAT

2007-03-24T10:10:00.000Z

Being isolated in the flat yesterday with little means of escape had me thinking about just how precious this time to myself is to produce the stuff I like to call Art - but only as and when I choose.

It’s true; I might like to disappear for weeks on end, in fact it’s essential to get the work done, but without the fantastic network of friends I’m lucky enough to have, not to mention a fantastic girlfriend who understands the need herself, then life would be simply miserable.

The need to break out of the flat became so great in the end by yesterday afternoon that I more than contemplated using the old ‘hanging and dropping from the balcony’ routine to escape – Not as dodgy as it may sound, as I’m situated on the first floor only and had calculated my height and length of arms would leave a final drop of no more than around two metres at most. What I hadn’t calculated however was how to get back into the apartment but it simply didn’t seem to matter.

Anyway, I’m just about to go ahead with the stupid scheme when thankfully cue Dominika. Luckily she’d finally picked up either the email SOS or text which I’d sent her first thing and rang me just as I’m tentatively hoisting my leg over the balcony railing.

Now call me stupid, for I’m one of the most practical people I know, but I simply hadn’t thought of taking a screwdriver with me to use as a replacement door handle and thanks to Dominika’s suggestion I was through the broken door and out of the building as if there was a doorman kindly holding the thing open for me.

And perhaps this is my point however, for we can’t avoid the fact that we need one another to feel happy and secure in this weird and wonderful world, but once outside and amongst the throng of the street again, well, I’d just about forgotten what all the fuss was about and quite simply couldn’t wait to get back to the flat and be on my own again – You just can’t please some people eh.

By the way, on my return to the flat, there was a guy with tools in hand fixing the door – Yup, how so easily we can take stuff for granted.

NOT THAT I’LL EVER TAKE CANVAS FOR GRANTED AGAIN..,

.., because I’m still waiting for the two I’d ordered over two months ago now and I’m getting rather nervous about the fact I haven’t been able to paint since before the recent show.

Now, living in Warsaw had its benefits in this respect, but even there, though good quality ready-made canvas is generally in abundance, even there, sometimes they would disappear from the shelves altogether for weeks on end. And this isn’t/wasn’t the only thing which would be in abundance one week and gone the next.

Anyway, back to my present predicament, and I’m desperate to get cracking again, and although there’s a promise for them to be done sometime early next week, I’m not holding my breath, for promises have been made before… Jesus, if I could get hold of raw canvas/cotton/linen myself then no problem, I’d knock them up myself, but this is what the Canvas Guys are waiting for themselves. Growing up in England and yes we are apt to take quite a number of life’s little benefits for granted, so if I hear any more complaints from all those English mates of mine again about how Britain is going to the dogs these days, I swear, I’ll swing for you!

For now, remember, when you row another person across the river, you get there yourself, but never be so proud as to turn down the opportunity to give yourself a break and hand over the oars to someone else.

.

2007-03-23T06:32:00.000Z

Bloody Hell - I can’t get out of the building… Out of water and an empty fridge this morning I really needed to go to the shop, but it looks like either someone has broken the main door to the building or (less likely) someone in the dead of night has finally fixed the god-dam lock and failed to give me a key. Anyway, there’s no bloody handle attached anymore so the door is either locked or simply closed, and, for a useless foreigner like me, devoid of a handle it might as well be closed for good. Add to all this, the fact that my personal translator isn’t on hand (Dominika picks her moments to stay over at her parents [insert nervously smiling smiley here]) then I’m well and truly f*cked! Yup, what with my pathetic grasp of Polish, I’m quite simply impotent without her at times like this… POMOC I think the word I need is - who knows? SHIT– H E L P

HOODED CROWS PICKING AT A SWASTIKA IN KETCHUP..,

2007-03-13T13:06:00.001Z

.., was the sight which greeted me early the other day on a bright and warm spring morning when on my way to the local super-market, which indecently is being run-down, soon to become ‘Tesco’… Anyway, crows lapping up a huge swastika someone had fashioned with ketchup on the pavement near the apartment block - a strange yet fateful image perhaps, for I’m optimistic that the fundamental right-wing mood in Poland can’t prevail. What will replace it however is another matter. Dominika’s thoughts on Politics here aren’t unusual for instance. A liberal in the best sense of the word, she, like many other caring, intelligent people in Poland has learnt to be wary enough not to trust anyone with ambitions of power, so the ‘liberal’ opposition appeals little more than the current administration (although a recent poll suggests a certain amount of support for change). The general hatred of communism is more than understandable of course, and the transition on the way to a rounded democracy is clearly a shaky, swastika shaped one, but for the sake of Poland and its people let’s hope it happens and democracy wins the day without the seemingly perpetual cruelty with which this country has had to endure.

AND AS IT HAPPENS..,

..,life here endures regardless anyway and remains more than decent enough (as long as you keep your head down and avoid doing anything to annoy the authorities that is - for I still haven’t managed to find out what happened to Dorota Nieznalska), and despite work being a bit stop - start again, the future promises to be as bright as the beautiful weather we’ve been having of late. Neighbours here in Broniewskiego have turned out to be first-rate, belying my worries a few weeks back about any forthcoming mayhem when I first moved in. The flat itself, although tiny, is fantastic after all too. Quiet, peaceful with great light, it allows for the kind of working practice which I haven’t enjoyed since having a ready-made studio back in the northeast of England years ago – If only the guys who are supposed to be knocking up my canvases would get a move on and get them done then stuff right now would be just about perfect. To be fair to them however, then it’s not altogether their fault. They too are waiting for their own suppliers of cotton and the timber needed to knock up the bloody things to

deliver the goods to them… Still, I ordered them over four weeks ago now and am getting just a little worried that they might never appear.

Nonetheless, there’s still plenty to keep me busy while I wait for them to materialize. I’m currently working on a couple of new ideas through drawing and reworking a couple of small canvases (as shown); the show at Filharmonia comes down tomorrow also, and on balance went really well, with two paintings selling – one from the show and one on the back of it, and I must begin reworking a couple of videos which I hope to show in Poznan in the not too distant future.

AND THE DESPAIR..,

.., my previous despair regarding the lack of any real contemporary venues in Warsaw that is, has thankfully been laid to rest by a recent discovery of two quite tasty looking commercial galleries which for some unknown reason we never came across when living in Warsaw ourselves.

So, an approach for showing at local 30 and Program (shown above) is also on the agenda as and when the two planned canvases are started and resolved.

SLIDE RULES

2007-03-13T12:22:00.000Z

As a kid back in the 60s, playground rules, indeed most rules for post-war kids in general, ignored much in the way of safety… Brought up on bomb-sites as the preferred form of recreation, the ‘newly’ built playgrounds happily held much of the same in the way of excitement – disregarding, as they undoubtedly did, all of which has now become standard health and safety concerns given the modern day theme areas for kids today. As if ‘the slide’ down at the local play-park wasn’t big and steep enough however to accommodate the need for a thrill a second, it was often freely smeared with candle wax to help with both speed and the additional buzz of watching who would and who would not survive shooting from the end of the thing onto the awaiting cushion of concrete.

Lubrication to help them on their way however is the last thing the PiS government here needs as they appear to be slipping and sliding on their very own, quite hysterically, towards future political oblivion with a nice slab of concrete at the end of the ride to break their fall too. Their current reactionary ramblings and policies, here, here and here, surely can’t survive essential Polish needs as the populace, despite being subjected to enough ups, downs and letdowns to make any reactionary views of their own understandable, aren’t stupid enough to pass on the opportunity of Poland becoming a grown-up member of the world’s ‘democratic family’ - surely.

ARMAGEDDON AGAIN

2007-03-06T08:56:00.000Z

Shock ‘tactics’ employed by the art practitioner is nothing new, is in truth as old as art itself, but in the last two decades or so has just about become the only way to impress a market place which is epitomised by ‘serious’ collectors who quite literally buy only what other collectors buy.

This isn’t to say that the fairly recent wave of ‘Shock Art’ is intrinsically vacuous or bad, (putting cards on the table, then generally I’m a fan of anything which is genuinely capable of shocking us into viewing the world just a little differently), but Damien Hirst’s return to a rather inane series of paintings back in 2005 perhaps marked the end of this candid ‘ways and means’ of nudging our outlook on everything human. Indeed, when it comes to Hirst’s illustrious career it was perhaps ‘Armageddon’, a magnificent monochrome painting from 2002 composed entirely of dead flies, which in retrospect now marks the end of Hirst for me.

Having everything the aforementioned ‘The Elusive Truth’ show lacked, ‘Armageddon’ seems like an apt prelude to what has followed. On viewing, ‘The Elusive Truth’ is a sad example of ordinary, academic painting which might just have been interesting if the hand of the artist had actually been at work. This unfortunately however wasn’t the case. The series was executed almost in full by a team of assistants (although enthusiasts of the show are quick to point out that "Damien worked on every one") and it shows. Even worse for me is to witness this one time rebel artist of extraordinary works such as ‘Piss Christ’ and ‘A Thousand Years’ (where encased in one of his trade mark glass boxes, maggots feasted on the head of a dead horse - in time emerging as flies only to die themselves - zapped by an insect-o-cutor), employing such run-of-the-mill means.

Painting has had its many deaths and re-births, and a talented figure such as Hirst is perfectly placed to resurrect it again for us all. So what a shame, if he truly wanted to return to painting, and in doing so Hirst’s disciples will be turning on mass to do the same, that he didn’t return faithfully to its means of production and do it himself. As a painter I’m fully aware of how absurd most contemporary painting has become anyway, but with such high profile characters like Hirst pointing the way forward I dread to think, through his many imitators, just how meaningless it may all well turn out to be.

NEW PHOTOS:

2007-03-05T11:39:00.000Z

Still waiting for the canvases to be knocked up by the guys in Antoniuk so went out on a shoot this morning – Probably one of the best here.

PENAL CONSEQUENCES FOR CHOOSING SELF EXPRESSION..,

2007-03-01T08:34:00.000Z

.., is nothing new, but it still comes as a bit of a surprise when it happens on your door-step and touches something close to your own values.

I was shocked the other day for instance to learn about the case of Dorota Nieznalska. Back in 2003 she became the first artist in Poland to be convicted in a court of law because of her work. Exhibited in Gdansk at the now defunct Wyspa Gallery, her work 'Pasja' (Passion/Lust) caused an outrage, the result of which landed her in court and a sentence ultimately which forbade her from leaving the country and giving her six months of hard-labour.

Old news it may well be (and I must find out what became of Dorota Nieznalska) but it remains a fairly recent reminder to us all that freedom of expression and ‘taste’ in the arts is at best a subjective thing. Unfortunately, for most who hold the reins, ‘bad’ and ‘offensive’ forms of expression gives an opportunity to flex muscles and win popular support from a majority who feel anything to question their cultural values to be nothing but a personal attack (as suggested half way down the page here by my original source 'Marysia’ on the Saatchi Forum).

BIT OF A LOTTERY THIS SHOWDOWN LARK…

2007-03-01T08:30:00.000Z

… But then again ART and RECOGNITION has always been a bit of a lottery!

The recent introduction of ‘SHOWDOWN’, a competition currently underway for the ‘trillions’ of artist’s like myself who have work on Saatchi’s online gallery, exemplifies this effortlessly.

As someone who has enjoyed intermittent success in competitions in the past I can have few gripes with the idea of competition in art, but, after witnessing the whole dynamics of the thing online yesterday, what surprised most was just how fleeting and belligerent the whole online process might develop into.

Judging art is perhaps dubious at best anyway, although we’ve always had it and it looks unlikely that it will ever disappear from our means of viewing work, but going hammer and tongs at it like gangs of looters fighting over anything and nothing, (which appears to be the case here), then here it might simply turn out to be wrong.

The thousands of entries flash by on a conveyer belt like ducks rolling by at the shooting gallery of a carnival, allowing the viewer the opportunity only to shoot down willy-nillie, with the click of the mouse, whatever might grab their attention briefly whether they are truly moved by it or not – Only then are they able to cast their vote.

All good fun perhaps, but I failed to cast any votes myself yesterday and abstained from entering this time round. However, it appears the competition will be ongoing and may well point the way to a future clad in works of art which, although taking real thought and time to produce, most probably will only ever be seen flickering by for a split second online.

Next time for me then... Qué será será será será...

NEW WORK

2007-02-20T10:39:00.000Z

The website at http://paul-brewster.piczo.com has been updated and now includes the new work for the current show: OLD LAND – NOWY PEJZAŻ .

TRAVELLING LIGHT – O ZWROT PIENIĘDZY

2007-02-19T08:22:00.001Z

If I’ve learnt one thing over the years it’s that travelling light is nothing more than a flight of the imagination. True enough, most people I know would regard the few possessions I own as nothing more than a reversal of custom – a diminishing debris the likes of which can be found in any old newsreels showing refugees on the move, but the pots, pans – my own pots, pans and the like, the boat loads of art surplus, plus the tools to work with, are the continuing, although unfortunately, weighty essentials needed by anyone just this side of hopelessness. If it was possible to survive with nothing more than a laptop and camera, believe me, I’d opt for it, dump the rest, and truly travel in a state of weightlessness.

Even with so few belongings the move still took nearly a full two weeks of nothing but sorting, packing and unpacking to get to the point now where I can sit comfortably in the knowledge that I can relax and begin thinking of work again... Admittedly, relax may be overstating the feel-good factor a little, for only time will tell whether I’ve opted to live in a safe part of the city or not..? The flat itself, although small, is more than smart enough and the three nights I’ve spent here so far have proved beautifully tranquil... Well, apart from the already regular after-work and early morning domestics from the apartment next door, where, if the woman continues in her present role and yelling like a banshee for hours on end, then there’s bound to be the alternative drama of cardiac arrest; and the accumulation of your stereotypical drunks quaffing something abrasive from well worn cans of Żubr in the communal entrance is perhaps a bit worrying too, all be it that they don’t appear to use the place as a toilet – something which I’ve been told to expect in the old apartment blocks throughout Poland but as yet haven’t had a sniff of.

Here’s to Broniewskiego then, the street I now find myself laying my hat for the time-being, and let’s raise a glass to those resident punters who respect the need for a clean and secure den to drink in. Or, let’s not..! For, with a bit of luck, the place should be fastened down, bolted and made reverently secure soon, with all legitimate residents being presented a brand new key. The landlord, who failed to mention the broken lock before the move, assures me of this, insisting that it will be fixed soon... Being the land of enigmatic deeds however and I’m not altogether sure just how soon, soon will be..? I could hardly keep up with the speed of events considering the show for example, and the guy who set me up happily on the net again yesterday worked like Billy Whiz, but there’s still some stuff here (let’s not go on about Pelican Crossings again eh) which can take for ever. Dominika was amused the other day for instance when we stood outside a well known high street store for over twenty minutes with a sign on the door saying ‘back in five’. With me starting my usual moaning over wasted time – better things to do – this wouldn’t happen in England etc., she smiled, exclaiming in that calming tone of hers while stroking my face repeatedly in that reassuringly yet typically haughty Polish girlfriend way, ‘Spokojnie, kochanie.., we haven’t been waiting a full Polish five minutes yet!’

In the meantime then, although the drinkers downstairs seem harmless and even interesting enough, I’ll continue to keep my head down for the time being as I pass them in the lobby, say, ‘dzien dobry’, quickly followed apologetically with ‘nie dziękuję’ when they offer something inaudible and hold out something just a little too rank for the nose to risk for the pallet.

For now then, takie jest życie

ON THE MOVE AGAIN

2007-02-08T15:08:00.001Z

So, with the show in full swing and Grzegorz about to return from his four months’ spell in the wilds of North-East Poland, a rather pleasant and productive period of both work and parking myself at Grzegorz’s flat comes to an end. I can’t thank him enough for letting me stay here..! Luckily, we’ve managed to find a rather smart little apartment almost immediately in Broniewskiego, which hopefully we’ll sign the tenancy agreement for sometime tomorrow... Then, it’s just a matter of hauling my stuff from Daniel’s place and, as far as work’s concerned, we’re up and running again - Have a couple of ideas simmering away already, with a return to the figure in some way or other almost certainly on the cards!

Thanks also to all those who turned out for the opening... The night itself had a very good turn out, and although as yet we’ve sold knout, fingers crossed, there appeared to be some genuine interest in the work. I was pleasantly surprised myself how good the work actually looked after slogging my guts out in relative darkness for the last four months – it’s the first opportunity I’ve had to view it all in pristine gallery surroundings, and if I do say so myself, the paintings simply shone with vibrancy! I’ll try to post some photos of the event after the move when, hopefully, I should be online again after what seems like a lifetime without the internet.

For now then – do widzenia

EXHIBITION DETAILS

2007-01-30T11:12:00.000Z

ARTICLE IN GAZETA WSPÓŁCZESNA - MAGAZYN TYDZIEŃ BY JOANNA KLIMOWICZ

2007-01-30T07:55:00.002Z

For those of you fluent in Polish, a rather nice article by Joanna Klimowicz which appeared in the press just before the opening:

Paul śmieje się szczerze, całym sobą. Choć podczas pozowania do zdjęć robi poważną, skupioną minę, to zaraz po sesji żartuje: „Zróbcie ze mnie gwiazdę rocka!". Nie ma w nim stereotypowych cech Anglika: słynnej flegmy i sztywności. Jest za to ogromna ciekawość świata, drugiego człowieka, krajobrazu innego niż ten zapamiętany z dzieciństwa, z rodzinnegoSunderland. Nową rzeczywistość smakuje dogłębnie, oswaja za pomocą płótna i farb. Zanim zaczynamy wywiad, wyrywają mu się pytania, po czym skonsternowany śmieje się sam z siebie: „OK. To ty jesteś dziennikarzem. Ja odpowiadam".

Kierunki się pomyliły

Paul ma ciekawy życiorys, pełen zawodowych sukcesów. Przez dłuższy czas mieszkał i tworzył w rodzinnej północno-wschodniej Anglii. Najpierw studiował rzeźbę, potem malarstwo. W 1994 roku otrzymał dyplom magistra sztuk pięknych Uniwersytetu w Nortumbrii. Nie minął rok i dostał dotację rządu brytyjskiego dla artystów. Był też nominowany do pierwszej nagrody i zgarnął wyróżnienie w międzynarodowym konkursie portretu (International Portrait Awards). Sukces powtórzył w 1997 roku. Jego obrazy można było oglądać na corocznych wystawach pokonkursowych w Galerii Portretu wLondynie (National Portrait Gallery). Wystawiał też w galeriach w Anglii: w Huntingdon, Londynie, Newcastle, Kendal, Middlesbrough, w Aberdeen w Szkocji, w Belfaście w Irlandii Północnej, a także w USA. Jego prace znajdują się w galeriach oraz zbiorach prywatnych w Wielkiej Brytanii, Stanach Zjednoczonych i w Europie. Dysponują nimi instytucje publiczne, m.in.: Stowarzyszenie Muzeów i Galerii Hrabstwa Tyne and Wear, Uniwersytet w Sunderland, Ratusz Miejski w Sunderland, Budynki Rządowe Unii Europejskiej w Brukseli. Po czterech latach spędzonych w Londynie, zdecydował się na wielki i ryzykowny krok – wyjazd do Polski. Polacy, którzy z kolei zaczęli przyjeżdżać do Anglii „za chlebem", śmiali się z Paula w kułak: „Pomyliły ci się kierunki! Nie w te stronę!".

Pyszna kranówa

Paul nie zrezygnował. Wiedział, co robi. Do Polski przygnała go miłość. [...] Najpierw zamieszkali wWarszawie. Połtora roku temu postanowili osiąść w Białymstoku. Decyzji nie żałują. To zdecydowanie bardziej przyjazne miasto – uważają oboje. Ale i tu niemało rzeczy zaskakuje Paula. Np... woda.– Przecież tutejsza kranówa smakuje dużo lepiej niż angielska, a nie można jej pić – dziwi się. Zachwyca się transportem publicznym. Autobusy są co 10 minut. Może te w Anglii są nowocześniejsze i czystsze, ale nie kursują tak często. Podziwia poziom edukacji artystycznej młodzieży, zwłaszcza muzycznej. Zresztą generalnie uważa, że edukacja jest tu na wyższym poziomie. Smakują mu kiełbaski. Sery – nie!

Czekając na farbę

Paul zmieniłby przepisy ruchu drogowego. Do szału doprowadza go, że trzeba stać na czerwonym świetle, na puściutkim skrzyżowaniu, kiedy nic nie jedzie. I wreszcie tu dotarła do jego świadomości przepaść pomiędzy zasobnością portfeli Polaków i Brytyjczyków. – I w sklepach pewnych rzeczy nie ma... Np. kończy się biała farba, czekam, aż ją sprowadzą i nie mogę malować... przez sześć tygodni – z pewnym zażenowaniem zauważa Paul. [...] Na szczęście nie musiał jeszcze załatwiać żadnych formalności, nie odstał swojego w kolejkach w urzędzie czy w banku, zakładając tygodniami konto. Nie kupował, ani – tym bardziej – nie budował domu. Nie wiadomo, czy potraktowałby poważnie polskie procedury, czy też umarłby ze śmiechu. – Anglicy nie zdają sobie sprawy, jak im dobrze. Wszystko biorą za pewnik, wszystko im się należy – wzdycha. – Chciałbym tutaj ułożyć sobie życie, ale to niełatwe. Nie tylko dlatego, że jestem cudzoziemcem, ale też artystą.

Zamknięty w bezpiecznym miejskim krajobrazie

Tutaj, w Polsce, po siedmioletniej przerwie (kiedy skupiał się na video), Paul wrócił do malowania. Po głowie chodzi mu oczywiście malowanie postaci, ale jeszcze do tego nie dojrzał. Powodem, dla którego postać ludzka zniknęła z jego twórczości po przyjeździe do Polski, jest to, że jeszcze nie do końca odnalazł się w nowej rzeczywistości. Oswaja ją powoli. Na początku uderzyły go podobieństwa, jednak uznał, że to pierwsze postrzeganie było powierzchowne. Cóż z tego, że wieżowce czy bloki w Białymstoku i Sunderland wyglądają na pierwszy rzut oka tak samo? Miejskie pejzaże (bo ten cykl powstał na początku) dają mu poczucie bezpieczeństwa, zamknięcia w znanej zurbanizowanej przestrzeni, ale jednocześnie wydobywają różnice. Miały być tylko „pomostem" między starym a nowym domem, a stały się bardzo ważnym etapem twórczości. Ważniejszym, niż się spodziewał. Do tego stopnia, że gdy zaczął drugi cykl, związany z Pojezierzem Augustowskim, elementy miejskie zaczęły się ni stąd ni z owąd pojawiać w augustowskich pejzażach.

Kochają ziemię i kościoły

– Ten augustowski krajozbraz, ta wielka przestrzeń, wydaje się nie kończyć – zauważa artysta. – Bo w Anglii jest tak, że kończy się ląd i dalej jest morze. W Polsce ziemia ciągnie się w nieskończoność.Na jego wyobraźnię działa nie tylko kontynent w znaczeniu geograficznym, ale też mentalność ludzi, mieszkających na tej ziemi. Dostrzega, jak bardzo są z nią związani, że wiedzą, że od niej zależy ich życie i przetrwanie. Anglicy tej świadomości nie mają. Owszem, zdają sobie sprawę, że gdzieś ktoś żyje z uprawy roli, ale to jest tak odległe i obce, że nie zawracają sobie tym głowy. Dlatego ziemia nie jest dla nich tak wielką wartością.– Są wielkie różnice w mentalności Polaków i Brytyjczyków – uważa Paul. Jego zdaniem ludzie w Polsce są dużo bardziej konserwatywni i tłumnie chodzą do kościoła. Zastanawia się, dlaczego? Może dlatego, że pozycja kościoła umocniła się w procesie zmian politycznych...
Z kolei spodziewał się, że Polacy są dużo bardziej zaangażowani w politykę, a tymczasem tak nie jest. Z tymi kościołami jest podobnie jak z ziemią. W Anglii są jakieś odległe i mimo, że mieszkają tam ludzie wierzacy, to jednak nie tak blisko związani z miejscami kultu. Katedry przypominają Paulowi muzea, a parafialne kościoły zamienia się na inne obiekty albo wręcz burzy, bo i tak świecą pustkami. Ilość świątyń w Białymstoku po prostu go zszokowała. Oraz to, że wszystkie są pełne po brzegi.

Powrót do portretu

Prace Paula, przedstawiające krajobrazy Polski, przesycone są duchowością, jakąś ulotną zadumaną nostalgią. Tak widzi je artysta. Zarówno budynki z betonu i szkła, jak i osnute mgłą jeziora. Jest cierpliwy i niecierpliwy zarazem. Kiedy jakiś element mu się nie podoba, nie jest z niego do końca zadowolony, zamalowuje obraz i tworzy od nowa. Nieskończoną ilość razy. Krajobrazy nie znudziły mu się, chciałby je zgłębiać dalej. Ale jednocześnie doszedł do momentu, kiedy widzi je przez pryzmat duchowości człowieka. Tutejszego człowieka. Stąd tylko krok do powrotu do portretów. W głowie ma już pomysł na kilka z nich. Chce sportretować byłą modelkę Wisię, teraz dojrzałą kobietę, właścicielkę pubu w Warszawie. To bardzo interesująca osoba, wiele podróżowała. Paul już się cieszy, że kapituła międzynarodowego konkursu portretowego zdjęła w tym roku limit wieku dla artystów, startujących w nim. Za rok Paul wraca. Tymczasem przygotował swoją pierwszą indywidualną wystawę w Polsce. Jego prace w technice akryl na płótnie, pod zbiorczym tytułem „Stary krajobraz – nowy pejzaż", będą mogli oglądać melomani przy okazji piątkowych koncertów w Filharmonii Podlaskiej, wystawione będą w foyer.

NOT MUCH TO REPORT SOCIALLY...

2007-01-19T11:18:00.001Z

.., but it was good to escape the work along with Białystok for the New Year break and great to be back in Warsaw - Must thank Andrzej and Jasz for letting us use the flat in Praga. Praga itself, which lies on the East side of the Wisła, I’d always intended to but never got around to visiting when I lived in Warsaw. The place is incredible - a bit of a photographer’s paradise if you like row upon row of tower blocks; and although we promised one another to avoid work as much as possible, both Dominika and I couldn’t resist spending half a day wondering around the place clicking away. The light proved fantastic that morning so from the hundred or so negs., and a bit of luck, we should just get one or two interesting shots.

Work aside however, and it was fantastic to see some old mates again and to pop down to Jazz Pub where Wisia, the landlady, just gets more glamorous month on month. She is irresistible though.., and I must say that I’ve been dying to photograph her since we first met her at the beginning of last summer. Being an ex model I’d expected an irresistible urge in her too to pop up whenever there was just a whiff of a camera about; perhaps it’s the professional in her however which leaves her cold at the idea of casual snap-shots, I dunno, but so far I’ve failed to convince her to pose for my own particular, proletarian lens. Additionally, I’d love to paint her, but so far – no joy there either, although there was a little hint this time of a ‘yes’ – ‘maybe’ – ‘next time’..! We’ll see though – she does seem as elusive as the sunshine we haven’t seen here for months. And, talking of portraits, good news there! I heard from a friend in England that the National Portrait Gallery are finally lifting the age limit on the BP Awards, so it’s time to knuckle down again to get something done for next year. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m quite excited about the prospect of submitting work again for the annual event. Since I became ineligible, because of age back in 2001, I’ve missed the particular discipline involved in getting a portrait ready each year for the awards, and with it, the general excitement that goes along with getting involved in such a huge event. So hopefully, here we go again... Any takers for sittings.., Wisia..?

The work, in the lead up to the forthcoming show and in general, continues to develop nicely also. Step by step it’s beginning to move on from the ‘easier on the eye’ stuff which I’ve completed to-date, with the last canvas to complete for the exhibition itself looking much more substantial already than the others. Incorporating elements from some video and photographic work, which were shot from the windows of trains and buses while rushing through the Polish countryside a while back, it does possess less of a momentary air about it than the rest, but still thankfully seems to fit nicely with the completed canvases.

For now and until after the opening then – na razie

A MODERATELY MOTTLED WEEK - SUMMER SKIES THIS MORNING

2006-12-25T08:03:00.001Z

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

2006-12-14T13:33:00.001Z

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

2006-12-08T13:46:00.001Z

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

2006-12-05T13:51:00.000Z

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 –

2006-12-03T15:01:00.000Z

- 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!

KRAJOBRAZ – THE NEW LANDSCAPE

2006-11-20T09:50:00.001Z

Well, if I was to be honest then I’d have to say that what started off as a simple mission to knock out a few pot-boilers is proving to be anything but, and the whole venture has taken a surprising turn for the better! I suppose you find your stream of expansion often in the places you least expect, and I don’t know, perhaps I simply don’t have it in me to simply knock them out for a meal or two in return anyway..? So, the off/on toying with landscape painting since my first visits to Pojezierze Augustowsko-Suwalskie is beginning to gather pace in ways I least expected - propelling me into a completely new relationship with painting that I’ve only been able to dream about since I began painting again back in March! With a couple of canvases completed (as below), and four or five on the go which are truly beginning to look intriguing, for the first time in years, I feel as if I don’t have to compete with my previous output or to demonstrate what amounts to a safe repertoire of quality control – craftsmanship, skill and all that rubbish as an end in itself… I’m once again working as much for myself as I am for others. In production anyway, gone is the worry of selling, and the excitement of not knowing what’s going to happen from one brush stroke to the next – of testing yourself – pushing what you have in the way of talent as hard as you can - simply to do better, this’s what’s proving to be relevant – this is what matters to both you, as an artist, and those who are interested enough to want to share in what you do!

Still not counting chickens just yet however - It’s early days, and in the wee hours of the morning, when the demons are having a wail of a time, there still remains an almost inbred prejudice (as a painter of people for twenty odd years) in even considering touching Landscape Painting, let alone regarding it as serious… Stupid I know, and as Daniel so rightly pointed out the other night - making good paintings is what counts and lasts regardless of subject! Aye, he’s a clever lad for a translator!

Still, representing the landscape for a painter these days’ is undoubtedly a great deal more problematic than simply employing the skills involved in applying paint to canvas. Any certainty in the fact that the land, but particularly nature along with its uncontrollable power, unpredictability, and potential for cataclysmic extremes as the old Romantics used to view it, has anything to offer the artist in the way of exploration and experimentation seems to have long gone, leaving little more than a view of the landscape based on that left behind by the greats of the past, when it irrefutably did mean something beyond ‘nice’.

Seen through the eyes of Constable then - his England, through Corot and Monet, to Kiefer's Deutschland, perhaps more than any other genre, any inkling of a new perspective we may happen to be lucky enough to glimpse when approaching 'nature' today is almost always lost under the weight of its own tradition, with landscape painting more or less being shunned completely by serious painters to become the preserve of the amateur dauber. All in all, a place in which it is nigh on impossible then from which to view anything anew. And the perspective is no easier from here in Poland either.., but..?

Although I've certainly been drawn to the landscape often in the past, without much success in the way of producing anything more worthy than ‘home decoration’, then there is something immensely intriguing about the way this troubled land continues to sit within its own borders at the very centre of Central Europe and is engaged with by its people on a daily basis as a basic matter of course and inescapable need. The place could be described as Cambridgeshire without the chocolate box cottages or anything else Cambridgeshire has to offer bar its flatness. Beautiful without question, the Pojezierze Augustowsko-Suwalskie region of Poland is incalculable – its pine forests run deep, its numerous lakes unfathomable, its people clearly forever drunk on the vastness of its skies, (not to mention the vodka)! I think it was Paul Auster who described the skies of Kansas as being the only friend you’ve got in that colossal, flat, desolate place; well, I’m sure Pojezierze Augustowsko-Suwalskie is nothing like Kansas, but I’ve sometimes felt like this about its skies!

Who knows then..? I’m certainly drawn to the place, and for reasons I’m only just beginning to fathom, whether the results are significant or not - who cares – it’s got me painting in its ‘proper’ sense again at last..!

NEW PAINTINGS

2006-11-20T09:00:00.000Z

Acrylic on Canvas 50X50

Acrylic on Canvas 56X45

‘THE OPPOSITE OF A CORRECT STATEMENT…

2006-11-13T07:34:00.000Z

… is a false statement - The opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth’ - Niels Bohr… A truer word.., and all that..! And, sometimes.., every so often, you can only reach your own truth by turning something you hold dear and fret about letting go completely on its head - or perhaps no more than onto its side is enough… But, the key is being able to let go… Impossible, or perhaps simply unwise, until such moments when we cock our heads to the left or to the right, or, when the blood is just about to pop the eyes from their sockets, we view the world upside-down through legs akimbo. And, while I suppose we don’t always know we’re pursuing something that doesn’t fit anymore until such eye-openers, and while the new perspective clicks into focus doesn’t mean that what was true once suddenly becomes a lie, the discovery, whether seismic or unassuming, involves a shift in direction regardless. Only then can we be confident in the knowledge that we are conveying the correct statement! For the time-being anyway…

WORDS TO THAT EFFECT:

2006-11-10T17:37:00.001Z

‘For a change’, sunny for about a minute this morning, but the thick layer of mustard coloured cloud was back in abundance almost immediately again threatening more torrential rain – Still, at least the down-pours we had yesterday, and the rise in temperature (it’s +4 today), has washed away the four days of snow totally out of sight as if it had never happened!

And, since the move to Białystok, cocooned as I am without the internet in an impenetrable world of ‘foreign’ radio stations, as far as I’m concerned nothing has happened..? Having access to the internet only when I’m around at Daniel’s, then I’m thoroughly missing being able to listen to the BBC on a daily basis! It’s true, I’m not one for debating the news until one too many beers, so conversations here rarely involve topical up-to-the-minute chats on world events until it’s too late of an evening to sink in, so I really do miss it all being unveiled quietly in the background on the wireless while I’m working away in the studio, (I like to call it the studio as it helps the working process, but actually it’s Grzegorz’s kitchenette)… The fact is, I really haven’t a clue what’s going on in the world these days, but the alternative, in listening to Radio Białystok, perhaps has some hidden benefits in that my Polish just may be improving subconsciously as a consequence. I say subconsciously as I can’t recall anything at will, but as an example of the unknown power of even an aging mind like mine, while in a taxi with Dominika the other night, I involuntarily started to recite Polish words and phrases I hadn’t previously been taught or even thought I’d heard before. I hadn’t a clue what they meant, but Dominika assures me that this is a great step forward in grasping a new language..? This may be so, but it still doesn’t alter the fact that I’ll never be able to truly get to grips with this impossibly crazy lingo enough to have a real conversation in Polish past the usual small talk of strangers or asking for a beer politely at the bar – never!

Aha, I thought I’d never see the sun again – it’s just found a crack, or fingers crossed, perhaps even a great hole in this bloody perpetual leaden sky, to cast the perfect light through these weather scoured windows to paint by..! So, czy mozemy przelozyć nasze spotkanie – dziś nie Niedziela – Bóg mówi Paul działa – or words to that effect..?P.S.. Shit, that was short-lived - it’s snowing yet again!

THE PENNY DROPPED TODAY

2006-11-09T17:19:00.000Z

No, I’m not a ‘rubbish’ painter, but I have been wasting far too much time and effort experimenting and searching for ‘the magic formula’ to fast track toward completion, when in fact today, and perhaps because of recent drawing endeavours, I made the decision to forget it and paint using the tried and tested use of the brush, getting stuck in, and needless to say, it paid dividends. I’m not the kind of painter who is satisfied by flashy techniques or convinced by ‘happy accidents’, and have realised, I never will be. I’ve simply got to grasp that the way I work involves time and patience. The journey of discovery is personal to each and every artist, and whether that involves a god-dam clever brush stroke to ignite the imagination, a feature film, or in my case when it comes to painting, building up layers of both paint and meaning to express a mood or concept, then so be it!

A SOLID DAY’S GRAFT TODAY

2006-11-07T18:44:00.000Z

Generally, in terms of painting, the work since the move has resulted in being no more than interesting, if fairly promising, one offs. Personally frustrating, this has worryingly become a recurring theme since my initial return to painting back in March - a disparate out-put to say the least, resulting in most of the ‘finished’ canvases finding their way back to the drawing board while I continue to fumble about trying to confidently grasp a meaningful angle to run with. In consequence, to resolve this and in spite of the fact I sometimes feel I’m forcing the issue too much, I continue to persist regardless by locking myself away in the studio as much as I can without going completely barmy! I know from experience that without such long periods of slogging it out, the work will never click however, and anyway, it’s easier to perform such a task here than it was in Warsaw, as the bright lights of Białtstok appear a mere 40 Watts compared to the relative brightness supplied by the national grid back in the capital, (there’s only two bars in the whole city worthy of a mention).

Which reminds me, on a technical note, I’ve had to deck the studio out with one of those white light jobs which omit 300 Watts while using just 60 Watts, this, just to combat the gloom of the perpetual dark days which filter in through the windows. It works a treat while working, but after the long hard slog of the day, my eyes never quite seem to adjust to the normal light of the flat, and while cooking a curry the other evening, with squinting eyes to check out the consistency and colour of my only forte in cooking, I had to get so close to the boiling cauldron of the stuff that my nose ended up as extra seasoning. The pain was strangely delayed, but when it arrived it had me diving over to the kitchen sink like Gordon Banks defying Pele’s sly goal-post header back in 1970 (although Monty’s double 1973 improbable FA cup save is of course the greatest of all time) and drowning myself under the cold running tap for what seemed like the full 90 minutes plus injury time! Conversely, the curry wasn’t quite as enjoyable after the event as I’d hoped, for all the pain was more or less just a numb throb by the time I sat down to eat, each time I lifted a folk-full of the stuff to my lips, the radiant heat re-ignited my nose…

Anyway, I digress.., as well as thrashing out the paintings, which, although looking good, as already said, still lack something in the way of thematic consistency, and until such a time the penny drops will remain a thorn in the side, I’ve also gotten back to doing a fair bit of drawing again. I’d quite forgotten how enjoyable the process of simply putting pencil to paper can be – and how direct – thank the Lord for small mercies! There’s no angst about how to produce here - I simply set about drawing without worrying about any of the technical difficulties which accompany painting (a couple of examples below). I suppose that’s the trouble with painting – so much to want to do – so little time and recourses to do it in… It involves multiple choices – time consuming choices which can’t so easily be reversed, or erased by the use of a putty-rubber..!

RECENT DRAWINGS:

2006-11-07T18:30:00.000Z

( Working Titles: 'Drawings from the Net' )

Pencil on A4 Paper

MONEY FOR NOTHING…

2006-11-06T10:58:00.000Z

… I wish, but there’s always something to pay..?

It seems being a native speaker of English in these parts is still a bit of a rarity, and without even opening my mouth, word has clearly gotten around already that I’m one of them.

Really needing to push the artwork at the moment though and the recent approaches from three people wanting ‘English Conversation’ to help develop their day to day conversational skills, has possibly come at slightly the wrong time for me. Being more money than enough coming in to pay the rent however, with zero income right now, I shouldn’t really turn it down, but may put it back till February since I’m relatively safe enough until then to push on with the artwork - I’ve got the possibly of an exhibition here in Białystok at the end of December which would have to be put off otherwise for christ’s-sake.

Mostly, Conversation Work is both enjoyable and easy money though - as I keep being reminded, but must confess, I always feel a little uneasy about getting paid for something I would normally, and feel should, give gladly and in abundance for nothing… It’s a bit like being a prostitute of the blarney really, only, from where the words would normally be gushing, there’s left a certain dryness in these forced situations, with me, often desperate for some easy flowing exchange of dialogue, resorting to ‘K Y Jelly’ for the vocal cords! In other words, where socially I love nothing more than a good natter with everyone and anyone, in an official capacity, I’m not altogether sure or convinced that I’m cut out for it? We’ll see though – I may still have little option come February!

FIRST SNOW – CONTINUAL BLIZZARDS TILL MARCH NEXT YEAR

2006-11-04T10:45:00.000Z

So this is what greeted me first thing this morning when I opened the front door on my way to the local super-market to stock up on warming Zurek and to buy my weekly ‘lucky’ Lotek ticket… True enough, it’s been as cold as cockles for the last two days or so, but it still came as a bit of a shock to see three or more inches covering of the crisp white stuff this morning… I mean, is it still not merely Autumn..? Apparently not, and there was clearly a hush and lack of joyful seasonal hoots in the air as adults and children alike shuffled along in silence, their chins held high against the blizzard in stoic recognition and resignation of a hot summer’s passing! This being my second winter in Poland, I now know from experience that this first fall of snow is more than likely just the beginning of one long snowstorm cemented in the calendar till mid March next year!

Just checked the thermometer on the window outside to see whether it’s warm enough for this stuff to melt – minus four it says! Ah well, time to dig out the winter woollies and the Soviet style army hat which was bought for me last year from the flee market in the old national stadium across the Wisła, turn up the central heating and pop on a pan of Zurek – Like the locals, absolutely no childish joy or thoughts of snowball fights or sledging here from me either – Roll on the Spring thaw is all I can think of right now.., and perhaps the unlikely event of six numbers turning up on the Lotek tonight!

DAY OF THE DEAD AGAIN

2006-10-31T10:40:00.001Z

Forgetting how long it takes to compose a handwritten letter, I’ve had an unexpected day off work today as morning has turned into early evening! Add the fact that the fingers of my right hand feel like they’ve suffered being crushed by stampeding, skating nuns (that is if you can stampede and skate at the same time – well, who was it painted that great painting of Skating Nuns – they certainly looked as terrifying as stampeding bulls anyway), then I’m glad the pen has more or less been scripted off to the great writing pad in the sky!

It’s also yet another one of those public holidays here tomorrow when the workforce gets yet another one of those many religious days off work to pay respect to their departed on ‘The Day of the Dead’, followed on Thursday by ‘All Saints Day’, or is it the other way round?

Anyway, you may remember my failed attempts last year, when I was strongly prompted to take a shufti down at a cemetery, (any cemetery I was told), to take in the breathtaking sight, when at dusk and well into the night, every living soul gathers on mass at every necropolis in Poland, their candles ablaze in enough numbers to be seen from outer-space and God alike.

My mistake last year unfortunately was to toddle off on my own when I really didn’t know my way around the place, deciding to walk, not to the famous easy to find and huge Zydowski and Powazkowski cemeteries to the north of Warsaw, but an equally large one on the map to the south of the city which appeared to be just a wee bit closer – perhaps a three quarter hour walk..? After an hour and a half I was totally lost in the pitch black of course, and perhaps it was just as well that I never found the place as I later found out I was heading for the cemetery dedicated to Soviet Soldiers – Traditionally just about barren, save for the odd bear or two rummaging around preparing for hibernation, at this time of year.Feeling a bit in hibernation mode myself today, I guess I’ll give it a miss this year in favour of catching up on a lost days work!

EXPLORER OR JOURNEYMAN

2006-10-10T07:03:00.001+01:00

For someone with the childhood nickname of ‘Pyjamas’ you can imagine that I didn’t ever seriously want to leave my bedroom as a youngster - preferring instead to dream away a life of adventure securely pressed under the heavy-weight bedcovers which, before Britain saw sense in adopting the duvet from Scandinavia, seemed the only sensible option!

With the advent of lightweight bedding, and what I thought of as the odd easy move or two, it came as a bit of a surprise this morning then to realize that after totting-up all the places I can remember living, the grand total added up to over twenty addresses since the day I finally kicked off those restrictive blankets and night clothes alike – these estimates - this very morning I might add - from the bed of a great guy I’ve met only once before when I first fell in love with Dominika way back in Cambridge all those years ago - Grzegorz, who at extremely short notice has been kind enough to rent his empty flat to me for the next four months or so while he is away doing his own form of journeying and I find something just a wee bit more ‘permanent’ up here in ‘dyed-in-the-wool’ Białystok.

So, it’s do widzenia to Warszawa and the Alley of Liberation then, and dzień dobry to suitcase living for a while again. It’s all of course in the grand design, but, at the age where most I know of a similar age are settled at home either planning the best futures possible for their little’nes, or watching their grown-up bank balances reach golden proportions in their maturity, then I do wonder when, if ever, the plan will come together?

Or, is this where it’s at for me? Explorer am I now?

Right now, while I sit with a cup of tea cupped to my lips staring out of the window at a very unfamiliar scene, it feels more like Journeyman – for although

you’d think I’d be used to all the upheaval after so many moves, then in most ways I am, but the initial wrench each and every time always knocks the stuffing out of me and drops the emotions into the pot to stew for a bit! Thing is though, I love moving on, and up until the time you perhaps truly come across that special place on the planets surface which matches those secure coordinates you find within and with friends and the people you love, then perhaps there’s no need to fret – learn to accept who and what you are and stop worrying about how well the rest of the world’s doing!

Leaving Warsaw however is of course wrought with a certain amount of sadness. A city which for me resembles most closely ‘the place’ of my youth, it has come to represent the closest thing to-date to a place, (since a predominantly great time growing up in Sunderland all those years ago), which I could just about think of as home!

But, sadly bidding farewell to some of the most amazing people and characters I’ve had the pleasure to meet aside, together with leaving behind the streets and places I grew to love, then the place just wasn’t home, and for all the genuinely wonderful memories left me, with just the occasional comings and goings of friends etc., it never could have been; and it gradually became apparent that it lacked some fundamental aspects – like a Greggs for Stotties and Pies to gobble on together with the prospect of enough supplementary work to buy the alternative - Add to this the lack of a truly current and vibrant art scene, then..?

Now I’m not sure Białystok will prove to be any more pulsating in this respect, and I know Pies and Stotties are forever to be placed on the back-burner, but the move here is a relatively temporary solution, with Białystok being much less expensive to survive in than Warsaw, and with ‘conversation work’ to supplement the painting hopefully being easier to find as and when, it should prove a much better platform from which to launch this ‘resurgent’ career of mine..!

WORTH A LOOK

2006-10-07T20:19:00.000+01:00

ART RESTORATION:

2006-10-04T19:53:00.000+01:00

A Chemical Perspective – A Replacement Prospect…

Charles Saatchi, who in recent years has been selling off works by the Young British Artists that he collected so avidly in the 90s, in selling on Damien Hirst’s ‘The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living’ two years ago to the billionaire Steven A. Cohen, has opened a window for Hirst to restore or rather, replace what remains of the decaying Tiger Shark he chucked, inadequately-preserved, in a tank of formaldehyde back in 1991.

By the time Mr. Cohen had forked out $8 million for the thing, desperate attempts by the Saatchi Gallery to preserve the work had left little but the skin of the fish stretched over a fibre-glass frame… That is.., until now; for it seems the artist has had a replacement shark waiting in cold storage for the day he could get his hands on his most famous piece of work again..!

When he learned of Mr. Cohen’s plans to buy the 22-ton work, he volunteered to replace the shark, adding that he frequently works on things after a collector has them. The artist said. “I recently called a collector who owns a fly painting because I didn’t like the way it looked, so I changed it slightly.’’

This raises a rather interesting question regarding ‘The Physical Impossibility…’ however, as to whether the ‘restored’ piece, as a ‘work of art’, is a copy or not..? And, what are they going to do with the ‘original’? Kind of makes a nonsense out of the idea of art works as icons etc! And, let’s hope Mr. Hirst gets it right this time, for I’m sure he doesn’t have any more sitting in the freezer, and once he’s popped his clogs - what then..?

Swimming With Famous Dead Sharks - Related Story here - The New York Times

HOUSE FLIES AND UNFINISHED BUSINESS

2006-10-01T21:06:00.000+01:00

When you start to believe that the House Fly which has been bugging you for the last three or four days by fondling your wrist, your bare ankle, the nape of your neck, does so because it loves you; it’s time to take stock!

I might add, I don’t like killing anything, but enough was enough, and after running around after the brazen hussy like a blue arsed fly, I managed to whack the annoying little bugger with the latest copy of ‘Fakt’ yesterday afternoon. Luckily for my impending state of guilt, I happened to simply stun the thing and chucked it as far as I could over and away from the balcony! Today however, I swear the shameless creature cocking its head from left to right and staring at me with its huge cow eyes from the laptop’s keyboard was one in the same beast. It died!

As has any foreseeable excursions in the realms of urban landscape (recent paintings of which can be found here), with a return to the figure being inevitable… It’s probably the home I crave – my private, exclusive way of expressing anything which may be atypical.

‘Everyone is born into the world to do something unique and distinctive and if they don’t do it, it will never be done’ so says Benjamin E. Mays, and if Lin Yutan is to be believed, ‘If you can spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned how to live’, well I'm not sure if I’ve managed anything unique just yet in my forty-six times around the sun, having achieved the latter in a state of perfect uselessness on many a worthless afternoon than I dare to remember, then I’m not sure if I’ll ever achieve the aforementioned! But hey, we’ll keep on going and trying even if those wonderful life-filled afternoons add up to little more than me killing myself with Cigarettes, Booze and leaving little time to complete the project! Still, to know how to live beats letting nature take its own course, with its preference for rotting a person away slowly – surely! And anyway, life’s too short to piss about trying to prolong it..! Unfinished it all may well be, but, well, death has a knack of finishing it all off anyway! For now…

BERLIN

2006-09-27T09:25:00.001+01:00

The walls might be smaller, but everything else is now bigger and brighter in Berlin.., and anyone who tells you that it isn’t as interesting a city as it was before the wall tumbled is either lying, or they’ve simply not been back since – The place is fantastic! I’m sure things have changed – I know things have changed, (since my first visit back in 1994 the place on the surface is virtually unrecognisable), and with change comes a certain amount of grief over the passing of elements which tie in with personal memory, but being in Berlin for the last few days proved to me just how well a city can develop but retain its very own specific identity!

Because it just didn’t occur to me that it’s just a matter of hopping on a train to get there from Warsaw, thanks must be given first of all to Jasz (a good mate and partner of Andrzej who started off as one of my ‘Conversational English’ students), who planted the idea of the visit in the first place – we hoped to go with Jasz a few weeks back, but work commitments meant we had to put it off ‘till last week… And secondly, a plug here for the hostel we stayed at in Friedrichshain, for I must admit to feeling a bit dubious initially about the idea of staying in a hostel for the first time in my life – the thought of sharing a room with six other’s, who may as well have been picked up at a bus stop or soup kitchen for fun, left me cold with the willies; but it was fantastic! People respected the need for sleep and privacy, but overall were exceptionally friendly.

Schlafmeile Hostel is run by Glen, a bloke from New Zealand, who arrived in Berlin over ten years ago and never left, and add the fact that the immediate location vibrates with the kind of feel good factor any community would kill for, the attached bar, also run by Glen and bearing the name of his homeland, dishes up the kind of food both Jamie Oliver and Fanny Craddock would drool over and verges on the ridiculously inexpensive!

The Good Food Guide and the delights of the City aside however, and the main reason we made the trip in the first place was to check out the gallery scene. It didn’t disappoint! And, as luck would have it, after around thirty or so visits to Berlin’s independent best, on our last day I overheard Glen talking about a friend of his who runs what turned out to be possibly the ideal venue for me to make my first and hopefully only needed approach for a show there!

On the way to catch the train home, we popped into Gallery 24 and had a quick chat with the owner. He owns Galleries in Berlin, Paris and New York, and apart from the Paris venue, reckons sales are excellent, and is always looking to take on new artists – a refreshing change from unapproachable London I’ve got to say! So, it’s now simply a case of getting some sort of coherent work and application together… Think my previous out-put speaks for itself, but as you know, the current struggle to find any lucid angle on painting over the last six months continues to-date! The trip to Berlin, along with the sudden urge to reintroduce the figure (already begun with what a rather pious friend of Daniel’s describes as deviant and gay :-) ) seems to have gone a long way to sorting this out however, so, fingers crossed and watch this space!

currently ongoing work

FOR NOW – APOLOGIES...

2006-08-13T15:54:00.000+01:00

... for the lack of recent or any forthcoming updates for the next week or so! Unfortunately, The Laptop (along with its access to broadband) suddenly bit the dust a week or two back and is currently away being brought back to life. In consequence, I've currently only got access to dial-up on my old PC which costs an absolute arm and a leg to use here and is slow – slow – slow!

SHOULD WE GO, OR SHOULD WE STAY

2006-08-13T15:20:00.000+01:00

From time to time you come across people and places which make whatever choices in life, or places you choose to lay your hat, more than worthwhile regardless of the consequences...

Behind the bar of Jazz Pub for example, stands the owner of the establishment with her hands, arms, and upper torso active in the kind of animation which you can't help but recognise as one of unconditional welcome!

Wisia, an ex-model from the world stage of the 60s, remains to this day a super-model in stature along with a combined nounce and savvy which ranks without doubt with that of sage and the indispensable nurse she clearly is to all who cross her threshold.

We came across the place by accident a couple of months ago when we were on our way back across The Wisła from a sortie to check out a gallery in Saska Kepa. Lying next to one of the archers of Poniatowskiego Bridge the bar resembles a concrete bunker on the outside, a bordello within and boasts a mixture of characters to match both features. It has quickly established a place in our hearts and minds alike with ease like no other bar in Warsaw has managed to-date! But be warned - if you're ever passing and are tempted to pop in to wet your whistle then you may just never want, or be capable of ever leaving – Not, that is, until you've told Wisia every detail of your life's story, she's put your future to rights, and after she's switched on the PA System, handed you the mike for you to sing with true passion your most essential favourite song in the world ever -

– this is obligatory to any new visitor given the honour of the chairman's stool at the bar for the first time... If you can imagine a combination of a day in the life of Rodney (from Only Fools and Horses) and the film Cabaret then you've got it! This...

... IN TOTAL CONTRAST...

2006-08-13T15:15:00.001+01:00

... but of no less fascination, than yet another field trip to the flat-lands of North-East Poland, where the men drink beaver's blood and the women eat chain saws.

Along with a dreamed of life in the lakeside villa (where we’re lucky enough to spend time in Serwy), ‘Dolce Vita’ is the description with which Dominika’s mother, describes the place fondly. She repeatedly waves her hands around to point out and to indicate what amounts to over twenty years of hard graft for the family to build from scratch with no more than their bare hands for tools and perhaps the use of a hammer or two here and there for help, a well designed, tasteful, yet substantial building which blends in comfortably with the surrounding landscape. The tone in her voice however indicates a clear air of loss and scepticism which, if you take a closer look around at the magnificent vistas, becomes understandable. Serwy, as with many of Poland's hamlets and villages set in prime beauty spots, is clearly being invaded by Poland's nouveau riche, who unlike Dominika’s mother, her kin and the local people rich only on tradition, have their newly acquired 'Walt Disney' ways and are hell-bent on outdoing their fellow weekend countryside seekers in building bigger, brasher and brighter bastions of bad taste! Close to my heart, even the 'village pub' has succumbed to off-the-peg, prefabricated fashion to become a multi-story, day-glow convenience store with only one barrel of ale attached to satisfy.., well.., I'm not sure who..? Perhaps as a bogus gesture to the weekend keep-fit freaks in their castles in the air, as thank the lord, they never seem to frequent the place, leaving the few lingering locals (who remain true drinkers to the last) to it to finish off the barrel on a daily basis. Like the unadulterated bandits they are, the indigenous few are never unwilling to accept the odd beer or two while they unflinchingly relay their folk tales of woodchoppers, giants and whether it's wet enough for the mushrooms to appear today or not - Most definitely worth the long journey for..!

… AS IS THE LANDSCAPE ITSELF...

… which, who knows, may well result in some significant work from another field trip to Pojezierze Augustowsko-Suwalskie recently, but certainly for the shear pleasure of it anyway, I found myself sitting in the sun, rain and wind in the North-East of Poland with canvas on the grass – paint brush in hand and puzzled look on face painting directly from nature and travelling on Pekaes through the Polish Flatlands and Forests, inspiring perhaps the beginnings of a video project… Well, we’ll see..!

… ALL JUST AS WELL THEN...

... for me that Poland continues to entertain as much as intrigue and endure as a vital source to a resurgent working output considering money concerns are certainly an issue, with a return to England, however much that feels in many ways like a step backwards, undoubtedly crossing the mind from time to time.., as it is now for those who...

… LIKE WORRIED, DISCONTENTED RATS...

... sitting apart in private little spots they've found for themselves on the deck of an already half empty rudderless boat, friends and colleagues (I know I'll be forgiven for the Rat metaphor) seem suddenly to be contemplating on-mass whether to jump, or rather when to jump, Ship Polska and head off for richer ports somewhere - anywhere else... It's both scary and sad, but very understandable considering the rising prices here in Poland and the disgraceful fact that professionals, such as senior lectures, earn little more than casual bar staff in England. One such friend, who I might add is staunchly patriotic, qualified to the hilt and loves Warsaw like the city was a lover, took up work as a waitress on her recent return from a year working in Italy rather than committing herself to anything long term here, stating that the place just had nothing to offer her anymore.

This doesn't bode well for the Law and Justice Government whose recent statement (sorry – no time to search for the link while I'm on dial-up) which claimed that there was absolutely no truth in the rumours about a brain-drain and so obviously indicates a government hiding their heads and not listening at all to the crew down here at deck level; who, if their genuine thoughts and concerns are to be taken seriously, clearly points to a future where Poland will be left with little more than cleaners and bus drivers to man the ship – But hang on there, they're buggering off to!

JUGGLING WORK, LIFE AND BEER

2006-07-30T06:37:00.001+01:00

As a climax to the commemorations of the 50th anniversary of the June 1956 events in Poznań, the opera Ca Ira has its premiere there on August 25, and it seems it’s taken the composer Roger Waters fifteen years to complete the thing! I empathise and sympathise with the man for sticking with it! After my recent stint of just four or five days locked away with these bloody paintings, which incidentally are currently having as many ups and downs as Caligula's pants, then I just had to get out for a few hours last night! Nothing outrageous it has to be said, just a breath of fresh air to stretch my head and legs before I was due to meet Dominika around ten.

Walking the parks and streets of Śródmieście then, as I surveyed enviously the Posh of Warsaw enjoying one another's company in the beautiful warm evening moments which this gloriously long hot summer is offering up to those who can afford it, it occurred to me just how much time I spend locked away on my own. On neutral turf and away from the studio I'm by nature a sociable sort, but must have spent the best part of the last twenty six years as a painter on my tod and the rest, well, drinking in as much life as I can guzzle – It must be said - there's not many occupations that are quite so solitary yet gregarious at the same time.

Yes, the investment in creativity is certainly a strange and paradoxical obsession in that to truly flourish it needs to feed off the experience to be found in living yet requires a massive outlay in time either spent locked away in the studio, at the ‘typewriter’, or in the case of Roger Waters here - at the piano’s keyboard for fifteen long years during which time living itself is put on hold in favour of travelling in a personal wonder/hell-land for far longer than a single life has to give in this short spell on earth.

Still, it beats having to follow in the footsteps of Daniel’s brother who has had to pack his bags and set sail for England to earn his crust. Like many Polish workers, young Grzegorz now spends his waking hours (for that’s all he seems to have left now given that he never has the time to sleep), in a dead end job British workers have shunned, living in a tiny London flat with a trillion other Poles and working twelve hours a day - seven days a week!

In honour of Grzegorz then, no more complaints, just an observation or two here and there and for me now - a daft wish that finishing off paintings could just be a wee bit quicker to realize! And anyway, what have I to complain about? All be it a one which lacks a grown up bank balance, this particular life-choice isn't all that bad as proved last week when for the first time in ages, unburdened by work commitments as we were, we managed to lock ourselves away in that ‘selfish’ creative space where we could concentrate on nothing but the loftier things in life, and of course, meeting new, as well as old faces, whenever the mood took us down at our favourite twenty-four hour opening watering holes – All in all, it was both sheer bliss and more inspiringly productive than it’s been for a very long time!

Incidentally, by the time it got to ten forty-five last night I made my way home on my own, the text disappointingly outlining more down to earth and pressing concerns for Dominika and her daughter to contend with, such as new shoes and accessories to be hunted down for the nieces’ imminent Barmitzvah or whatever it is Catholic girls go through to be welcomed into adulthood. An overrun, non productive, demand filled trudge around the glitzy late night shopping mall somewhere near Zoliborz then meant she was equally knackered, hairless and couldn’t make it to meet me… All I can say is, thank God all I have to juggle with is whether to paint, eat or simply ‘piss-off’ down to the pub!

HARD LABOUR

2006-07-28T17:29:00.000+01:00

Not unlike Mike Leigh’s early work, where the proverbial toils of ordinary life are played out impassively, but, painting in this current heat wave, more akin to the pointless, procedural, physical torments dished out to convicts of old!

So that’s me broken? Not quite, but almost! With ‘number one canvas’ close to completion I’m not kidding, in temperatures reaching the mid to late thirties and a back bent double over two large canvases for most of the last four days, we can add to the medium of Acrylic on Canvas - A River of Sweat!

A River of Sweat and An Ocean of Words…

... It’s odd and just a bit different for me to lay down under-painting to such a finished degree in the form of a catalogue of complete phrases rather than just merely laying down the usual ground work consisting of line, texture, colour etc – This too, with the clear intention of obscuring, even covering completely, most of it as the work progresses. What's more, the canvases aren’t looking too bad in their own right, and there’s been some temptation to leave them alone as they stand and to move on - Certainly worth putting aside for a week or two anyway…

Looking ok then, and I’ve got an understanding girl-friend along with the fact that Niall Quinn has finally made a decision on who will ‘finally’ manage my beloved football club to thank for that and keeping me focussed and away respectively from the club’s message boards day and night! And, baring the one very early morning wake-up call from the madman downstairs two nights ago and luckily you can add to this good work practice a dramatic drop in temperature last night. It feels positively fresh today at 32 C..*!~^?, so, after a good sleep for a change, you find me as good as new this morning, feeling a need for a short break to do a little catching up with the likes of emailing, my scribblings here and perhaps just a little look on the club’s message boards to catch up ;-) Back to work for two or three week’s solid graft after this then, and the final push to get these two ‘buggers’ done!

For now then - do zobaczenia.

FALSE AWAKENINGS (Is Life a Dream)

2006-07-17T16:45:00.000+01:00

Although this has happened to me before years ago it seems that nothing can prepare you for it happening again – and it’s really freaked me out!

Thing is, I’ve gone through a whole morning this morning thinking I’ve been awake when in fact I haven’t..! In truth, I’m pinching myself right now just in case..?

I ‘woke’ up between quarter past and six-thirty (remember putting on my glasses and checking the clock the moment I prised my eyes open), showered first as planned, had a breakfast of cheese on toast and got an early start on the larger of the two canvases I’m currently working on. Well, after a bit of a struggle the painting went really well and I swear to God I wouldn’t have woken up at all if it wasn’t for just one thing.

After putting the kettle on to make coffee at around ten-thirty I went to text my girlfriend to let her know I was taking a break so she could give me a bell on the landline; nothing strange in that – true enough, until the phone rang and I began to realize something was just a wee bit odd. What didn’t fully register when I was on my way over to pick up the receiver was what amounted to a peculiar ring tone and it was only when I was just about to pick up the handset itself that it dawned on me that the phone had completely changed – In place of my cordless BT Quartet 1100 (just checked to see it’s back where it should be) was the big red seventies style telephone of my youth. Even then I just remained puzzled and frozen to the spot – me racking my brain trying to figure out when on earth I’d picked the old thing up from Dad’s back in England! Bear in mind now, this was nothing like a dream, so, while staring at the thing, which kept on ringing perhaps longer than it would normally have done, it took me what seemed like an age before I worked out that along with the phone none of this was actually happening for 'real', and only then did I wake up.

Found this on the Web amongst other things, and it seems it’s a fairly common phenomenon…

Anyway, it’s around ten-thirty ‘again’ and unfortunately I’m not as far on as I was when ‘asleep’!

REPULSIVE,BEAUTIFUL CONCRETE (In Search of Home)

2006-07-16T16:39:00.000+01:00

When I was a kid growing up in the North-East of England in the 60s and 70s I found everything, from the old bomb sites of town to the ‘failed’ tower-blocks cast in grey concrete with their furnished details highlighted in brightly coloured steel, wood and graffiti, to be absolutely spellbinding.

At the time not only did I believe the place to be everlasting in substance but eternal in spirit. However, as with most of England and the urban landscape in general, the subsequent ephemeral nature of the North-East, together with the memories of the sheer vigilante aspect of its character when I felt welded to its very structures, has left little more today other than feelings of grief and a longing for what amounted to something profoundly outgoing, inspiring, yet insular and intensely homely at the same time.

Living in Warsaw though means the old excitement and reassurance is back tenfold in the form of a physical animation and a kind of well being based inexplicably on feelings of menace - But for how long? Only time will tell – but, with the help of European Funds, probably no more time than it takes to erase the graffiti from the walls and to witness the old grey communist blocks getting a lick of pastel shades and fancy hats to top off their currently bald roofs! It’s happening big style all over the city as I type, and increasingly so.

If recently being back in the North-East of England, with its increasingly sanitized city centres and open precincts for the wealthy that is now the Quaysides of Newcastle, Gateshead and soon to be Sunderland, had me weeping and feeling overwhelmingly nostalgic for the place of my youth with all the grit and tangible excitement and danger that brought hanging in the air, then what of a disinfected Warsaw? It’s surely soon to be goodbye forever to the sounds, smells and sights of anything I can bed down in which remotely resembles home!

"JACEK THE RIPPER"?

2006-07-15T23:07:00.000+01:00

The Ripper was a Polish Jew. That was the opinion of the head of the investigation into the Whitechapel murders in 1888, according to ‘evidence’ released yesterday...

More here from The Beatroot

THE WORD OF GOD

2006-07-08T16:48:00.000+01:00

Belonging to every child in Poland, and etched deeply in the minds of every adult here, is something called a book of prayer outlining the dos and don’ts of being a good Catholic! From the Alley of Liberation here in the relatively salubrious Śródmieście district of Warsaw to the ‘grey’ apartment blocks of Huta to the North-West, there’s no getting away from the fact that apposed to the turn of phrase used by the Law and Justice government (who by the way, are trusted about as far as you can chuck a downy white feather), along with the smooth talking, silky tongued mouthpiece of big name branding, (to which Poles give little more than a knowing wink with their firmly sceptical left and right eyes), the ‘word’ of God remains Król..!

Or does it? Something in the mix of style and prose here suggests that the educated use of words alone, and by whom, is the standard by which Poles rate language. We can discount what is peddled by the government and just about anyone or anything else that tries to flog something to the Polish people, on account of ‘corruption’ (the most assured of words here in the ‘ears’ of the population); this, through years of hard lessons learnt and in having a well-developed sense (ogórek kiszony aside) for quality control… And the church itself isn’t getting away lightly either. With falling attendances, especially amongst the young, Poles are turning on mass to other sources of knowledge and enlightenment which were previously forbidden by both state and church. What does remain, however, (and this is unfortunate for a typical English speaker who doesn’t know his adverbs from his nouns, or his case endings from his case beginnings, and is trying desperately to grasp the second most difficult language on the planet) is an absolute faith in language along with a strict adherence to the correctness of syntax! Well, all this in my opinion anyway...

Thing is, this has had me thinking lately just how important the need for words has increasingly become for me. From my continuously abandoned first novel started way back in 1996 (don’t we all have one of those) to the tentative use of the odd word or two placed discretely on the edge of canvases gone by, the need to write the script, or rather pen any type of bull-shit, continues to haunt! As in the lyrics of Bread.., (if anyone can remember who the hell they were), a picture may promise to paint a thousand words.., but in this multi layered world, where art and information live happily pasted together, is it now enough just to offer painting up for show on the basis of little more than craftsmanship or dubious exhibitionism based on ambiguity? For is it not true, True ambiguity is the domain of true thinkers, but often goes unseen as the results of the charlatan aren’t always easy to tell from the labours of the god-dam clever!

In his work ‘Redman’, and other paintings from the same period, fellow artist and good mate Dale Atkinson makes use of the kind of speech balloons to be found in comic book illustration, the beauty being here that what is said is ‘merely’ implied though immense by the absence of words at all - true ambiguity which speaks volumes! Then we have Peter Moore (unfortunately no links), whose copious use of words, phrases, even chapters transcends the merely decorative to become both a cacophony of thought and deed, and an ambiguous palimpsest to his life! Somewhere in-between however may lie the script for me as the current paintings unfold...

AND BACK TO WORK

2006-07-02T23:21:00.000+01:00

Since returning to Warsaw developments have gone reasonably well! ‘All Change’ it’s been then, and the paintings are beginning to progress for the better. I’m certainly not counting my chickens – far too long in the tooth for that, but gone is the laborious re-defining of the photographs of Warsaw, which hold up well in their own right, in favour of starting from scratch and painting directly onto canvas each and every time. Without the restraint of such still images as a starting point and relying more on the experience of living here in Warsaw day to day, this should allow the paintings to develop and grow in a way which defines this Polish encounter along with any lingering personal issues much better..!

ENGLISH WIMPS

2006-07-02T16:49:00.000+01:00

England’s despair after Rooney's dodgy dismissal spoils the party

It never changes does it! Always someone else’s fault! The rest of the world hates us and has it in for us!

True to form, crying like bloody milk babies, when are we going to be big enough to accept responsibility for our own failings..!

We f*cked it up - not the Argentinean ref – not some imagined cheating little bugger who should have been laughed at in the face – not the weather – not even Sven ‘nee guts’ Eriksson, but us! Us, when we had every chance of winning the thing, not only this time, but anytime if this English spirit of ours was anything but a myth these days!

For Christ’s-sake, grow up England – stop moaning, walk like men, (even this - clichéd - worst German team in yet another generation knows how to do this), and take a leaf out of your grandfather’s book - They must turn in their graves every time this on mass oppressed hysteria happens and England’s current crop of ‘men’ wimp about like spoilt little children, throwing tantrums, (more disgraceful violence abroad by English supporters), and bawling their eyes out at any little problem to be faced!

Good article here in the Guardian outlining why perhaps:

Complacent to the last, Eriksson and his spoilt players got what they deserved - absolutely nichts.

FIRST OF JULY 1916

2006-06-30T16:53:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow, July 1, marks the ninetieth anniversary to the first day of the Battle of the Somme where the British army alone suffered 57 470 casualties. By the end of the day 19 240 of those men and women were lying dead.
The battle raged relentlessly for five more months and continued horrendously, when in November, it finally ended bogged down in mud. In all this time, the Allied Forces could claim only to have taken ten kilometres of ground from the German defenders. The dreadful cost on both sides by then reached close to a million in lives and casualties.

Here’s thinking of all those whose lives and deaths have been touched by what rates as one of the most horrendous periods in human history.

If I should die, think only this of me

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England.

There shall beIn that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England's, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

'The Soldier' from the War Sonnets - Rupert Brooke 1887-1915

TO TAKE A FRESH YOUNG CANVAS’S VIRGINITY OR NOT..?

2006-06-28T16:57:00.000+01:00

By now you’ll be aware that I’ve been struggling for the last few months over a body of work which I finally put to the sword the other day – this in favour of stretching a number of fresh new canvases to suit a need and fulfil how the ideas have panned out.

Anyway, the last couple of days have resulted in ‘soiling’ a couple of the large aforementioned white beauties again with colour, texture and any ‘sullied’ ideas I might have going on in this head of mine.

The results are exciting enough, although it always strikes me how sad too – Freshly Primed Canvases are stunning young things glowing in their innocence, and after those first ‘daubs’ of paint, it got me thinking just how much the rest of the painting process in general is nothing more than a procedure of trying to put right the resulting wrongs… Should we simply just leave Virgin Canvases alone..? Probably not! Unfortunately, white on white’s been done to death, and anyway, giving them a good seeing to beats doing most anything else really - in my opinion…

2006-06-27T16:59:00.000+01:00

L e A t h E r F A c E - ALIVE or DEAD

From my home town of Sunderland in the North-East of England, Leatherface are a band that epitomised the best which was p U n k in the UK back in the 80s.., if not that of the world and forever more in the minds of those from Sunderland!

Never what you would call a ‘groupie’ at the time, I still delighted in the aura which surrounded them and the fact that their genuine hardcore values remained both intact and firm!

Any personal contact I had as a young'n with the likes of Frankie ‘Warsaw’ Stubbs, Lainey, Dickie and later on Dicker (who if I recall correctly, still owes me a final instalment on a painting of mine he bought :-) was pretty scary at the time and limited to quick nods of acknowledgment - on my part anyway – and little more at The Bunker where I kept a studio and they hung out, practiced and, I think, recorded – Was never quite sure whether the tunes that ‘drifted gently’ up through the floor of the studio were the final cuts or not :-)

Anyway, I came across a couple of their sites by accident just this morning, and by all accounts it appears they’re still alive and kicking… So, if any of you diehards and modern day fledgling punks ever get the chance, look these buggers up – you know it makes (no) sense ;-)

CANOEING - THE POLISH WAY

2006-06-26T17:03:00.003+01:00

Clearly the Polish way of taking in the wonders of the great outdoors and skilfully riding the white waters of torrent and stream..! Well, not exactly the rapids of the Colorado River through Cataract Canyon it must be said, since the magnificent rivers and lakes of North East Poland are usually as calm as the eye of a storm, but a boiling caldron when, as last weekend in a mass stupor, the population of Poland tossed their paddles to the winds and their bodies from a riot of kayaks to the depths of the (Black) Czarna Hancza!

So, here we are, back from a four day Canoeing expedition, (a trip in more ways than one along those idyllic lowland rivers), and I’m in a joint state of rising damp, through days of sitting in the swamp water which became a permanent feature at the bottom of the boat, and dry rot, by way of too much exposure from the blistering heat of a desert sun above… Thank Saint Arnold then for the copious amounts of the golden stuff, and yes of course – vodka, which is, apparently, traditionally guzzled by all here when in nautical transit – this, along with the resulting amnesia this brings to ward off any apparent exhaustion; and on account of a daily exercise routine of vigorous paddling in conjunction with the sheer splendour of the majestic landscape, I refer now also to my current state of spiritual euphoria and a bearing of a bonus accruement in the form of a body Hercules himself would die for!

From virtually the first moment the tone of the voyage was set as we pushed off fully laden with supplies from (Lake) Jeziora Wigry at a mad dash, entered the Czarna Hancza where ‘Magic’, (a lone member of our small group), showed us with clear madness in his eyes how, when completely smashed, it is possible to slither backwards along the stern of a canoe, plop like an elephant seal into the dark depths and survive three metres or so of weed laden, relatively fast flowing river!

When both ‘Magic’ and a certain canoeing partner of mine, who had quickly followed Magic’s lead and dived into the drink shortly after him, had somehow managed to clime back aboard, then the first hour or so continued in a similar vane with the usual calm of the vista being interrupted with hoots of freedom, accompanied by the type of ‘bombing’ listed as forbidden in Public Pools when we were kids, and all in all can be said to have resembled a bull-bait on water as the river was filled to the brim with city escapees sizzling in the baking sun on full tanks of Vintage Polish! Fun to behold to begin with and it has to be said, a complete eye opener for an Englishman used to excursions donned in Arran pullovers and cagoule, but thankfully, due to the fact that the consumption and effects of alcohol worked its various conclusions, the hordes eventually scattered and remained dispersed for the rest of the trip to be replaced by vast expanses, silence, and on this first day, a number of hours of isolation with the rest of the day in the water passing away in pure bliss!

Arrival at our first camp brought all this crashing down to earth however in a glorious rumble of dynamic evenings entertainment as fires were started, any thoughts of nature being enough for the soul being put to one side when the demand for more booze was fulfilled, football matches begun on a jungle for a pitch and ended just as quickly for yours truly because of cardiac arrest, all followed up by a last course of stoic songs of woe sung with gusto until the early hours of the following day – As a result, for stragglers like us, the first half of next days’ canoeing past off with little more than ploughing through the calm waters and quietly taking in the scenery through shaded eyes until, given a reasonable hour, the hair of the dog was released from its kennel in the form of a couple of Mad Dogs, (for those who don’t know - a delicious concoction of Vodka, Raspberry Syrup and Tabasco Sauce), which of course did the trick in clearing the head! But democracy, which is the new Poland, and the fact that nature for the remainder of the day was indeed enough for the soul, led us both, along with Daniel and his beautiful young ‘companion’ Anna, (who we know fondly as Anananana - or that's how it sounds to my English ears :-) ) opting for an early night when we landed for the night!

The following day took in what rates for me as some of the most wonderful scenery of its type I’ve ever seen. Along with a swim in the crystal waters of the Czarna Hancza followed by a repeat mid-day singsong of Mad Dogs and Englishmen, then the day was truly idyllic and did its best to refresh the spirit until we reached the Augustowski Canal when, if truth be told, out of simple exhaustion, as the perpetual paddling began to take its toll on us all, it was nothing but a relief by then to get to our last stop at Mikaszewo! There by the lakeside we set up camp for the last time and spent some time relaxing with another gentle swim in the warm waters of the lake followed by a bit of a nap before the last evening’s festivities where tall tales were exchanged in an intoxicated, yet strangely melodic din, with the improbable sight of the most frail looking woman I’ve ever seen in my life leading in an all night sing-a-long along with Dominika who hilariously participated in bossing and poking anyone who dared to abstain! Songs ranged from the most obscure (to my ears anyway) of Polish folk ballads to a woeful duet from Daniel and myself of ‘The Smiths’ ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’, which to be frank got a reception of sheer disbelief. By the time all the remaining booze was drunk and the final refrain became a whisper and hiccup, thoughts drifted onto reaching our final destination at Plaska on the last day and gave rise to further dreams, when tucked up uncomfortably on the floor of the tent, of a safe return to Warsaw and the feel of city water from the shower to wash away four days of mildew and flaking sun tans from what had gradually become our peasant bodies!

… Anyway, a great time had by all, but don’t try any of the aforementioned at home without checking A Guide to Canoeing in Poland here first

NEXT STOP – ALL CHANGE

2006-06-14T17:05:00.001+01:00

Some good advice from Dominika tonight regarding the Warsaw Paintings when she expressed just how tame they appear in comparison to past work - Something I suspected but had been avoiding to address for fear of not producing!

The fact that they hold up technically, and in some way possess enough strength to convince most, just doesn’t disguise the fact that the difference between merely producing something competent and doing something with the subject matter in question is vast! To date, it all feels too much like pissing in the wind… Just when the hell is it going to click..? All clearly easier said than done.., and considering the lucid thoughts and mental pictures I have regarding the issue quite simply doesn’t tally with the stuff I’ve produced so far, then I’ve only myself to blame! If I was to be brutally honest however, then bloody money problems continue to pray on the mind, But, it’s a double edged sword innit – get work – no more money worries – teach English – no more painting..! And, matters of the heart aside, then what am I supposed to be here for..?

Anyway, ‘Establish your own Frame’, I was told tonight, and of course Dominika’s right, but in fairness I’ll perhaps need to go around the block a few times over the forthcoming months to get there… After a useful break planned for the next few days however - no more piss-farting about – at this particular juncture it’ll be all change with no holds barred!

WARSAW PAINTINGS

2006-06-09T23:23:00.000+01:00

Two months now into the Warsaw Paintings and perhaps as they stand they’re beginning to pull together - but it’s early days and I’m really still not convinced… Still, although there’s some good stuff going on, I’m still just not sure they’re heading in the right direction..? Jesus, the amount of painting, rejecting, reworking etc, just to get to this stage, and I’m still not ready to run riot – Bloody hell, you’d think after twenty odd years of painting it would get easier, but I wouldn't want to lie!

As you can see, I’ve been working in monotone and for now, during the working process anyway, black and white seems to be the new colour for me – perhaps even suits the landscape of this weird and wonderful city … The intention is to add subtle glazes of colour when the structure of the paintings are complete but I’ve only tried this out on a tiny painting so far, and since it f*cked the whole essence of the bloody thing up, am not quite convinced about doing this to the others just yet – that is if they, and the rest to follow, survive in this form at all.

All in all, very frustrating at the moment, but all very much part of the journey as they say!

BUTTERFLY EFFECT OR SIMPLY JUST FATE?

2006-06-08T23:26:00.000+01:00

On a related theme and I can honestly say that the little I have produced this week looks pretty good anyway, and shows signs of taking an interesting turn for the better!

I’m busy reworking the larger canvas which is proving to be a bugger (the things just looked too.., well.., archaic), but anyway, all that aside, and what struck me this morning was just how, regardless of intention, a piece of work develops depending on as, how and when it is worked on… Just staring at the canvas now, and I know in my heart of hearts, if things had gone to plan this week, this piece of work as it stands now, just wouldn’t have existed.., so for better or worse, I’ve got him/her downstairs to thank for that! The thing would simply have been different if I’d worked on it when I’d planned rather than when I had the opportunity!

YOUR CORRECT MINDSET TO BE ABLE TO PRODUCE?

2006-06-08T23:25:00.000+01:00

So the guy downstairs continues to wreck havoc with both mind and eardrums and it’s ceased to be funny anymore - He’s to blame for keeping me locked somewhere in this place we call dazed and confused, with virtually nothing to show on canvas all week.

Beyond feelings of guilt, about getting little done for the last five days, this got me thinking about just how fragile the creative mind can be when it comes to unwanted disturbances..! I know that any, sometimes minor interruptions, can set me back for days! I was wondering just what mindset is needed to be able to work at an optimum best? Just being able to sleep perhaps!

By the way – finally snapped and thumped on the floor last night, and when this failed to produce the desired effect, made the diabolical effort to drag myself from bed, pulled on my pants, staggered down the flight of communal stairs and hammered on his door. All to no avail I’m afraid however – The bugger couldn’t or wouldn’t answer the door and continued regardless with his horrific piano practice (another story – but I imagine he hit’s the keys with a truncheon) along to god knows what belting from his stereo..? All needs a longer, more detailed note in Polish to pin to his door I suppose..?

THE ALLEY OF LIBERATION

2006-06-06T23:32:00.001+01:00

Well, we’re back safely from our visit to the ‘sunny’ North East of England (for May it was absolutely atrocious and has unfortunately left a scar on ‘our Lass’s’ interpretation of the North-East of England for ever), and the upheaval of the last few months or so (too long and complicated a story to tell fully) seems long gone..! To be honest, since the move here to Warsaw roughly a year ago now, I must admit to feeling more reasonably settled now than I’ve felt anywhere or for such a long time during.., well.., let’s just say – an ‘unsettled’ past.

Since the tickets were already paid for from the ill-fated trip back in February to find work, we took the opportunity to spend a couple of weeks break in England at the end of May to meet family and friends. Although it was brilliant (weather aside) to catch up with family and friends again, it is a relief to finally be back to try to get into some sort of semblance of a routine and hopefully get cracking with the long process of getting some work done… Without my dad’s help, this short reprieve now wouldn’t be possible though, and for his continual advice and support I owe him more than a few silly words here can say!

That’s not to say I’m by any means out of woods yet, for life working as an artist here, (as all of you who dish out the ideas in whichever medium for a meagre living will know), is by no means easy, but however slow the process, the work is beginning to flow at a rate now which puts my output during the last few years in England to shame, and I’m beginning to love and hate it again regardless of the fact that they’re inevitably all over the place right now – Ready or not, it’s still good to make contacts however, and though I don’t think I’m ready, or will be for quite some months to come, I should really pull my finger out and begin approaching galleries again before the readies dry up completely and make any progress more than tricky!

The unexpected shift in subject/content, and return to painting is proving exciting, but for all the ideas and production are going ok, I wish to God there was an army of me to get the stuff out and onto canvas quicker than is physically possible. Adjusting and getting your head around the fact that painting takes just a wee bit more physical exertion than digital and video work - this along with the added drawback you can’t just revert to an earlier version when things go wrong, then it’s proving hard to acclimatize to! Also haven’t managed any painting for the last two days - not so much because of the aforementioned it must be said however - but because of the ‘guy’ downstairs..! Being a drag-queen by profession, ‘her’ perpetual practice sessions and renditions of Falling in Love again and Lili Marleen when ‘she’ gets home from work at three or four in the morning have left me sleepless and exhausted. I’ve learnt through experience not to touch a paint brush at times like this!

It’s difficult to know though how to sort the problem out to be honest. With ‘his’ only English being informed by, and limited to, Shirley Bassey lyrics etc.., it took Daniel (God, he’s become a good mate) to request a sensible noise level which ‘she’s’ adhered to for the last month or so, but the volume has crept up gradually since we got back from England and the tranni anthems are being belted out again at a trillion decibels! The fact ‘he's’ a big bugger and I’m a bloody coward also means that I haven’t approached him myself, but have asked Daniel to dictate a note over the phone for me in Polish which I’ll duly stick on his door when I know he’s not in!

Anyway, that’s it for now – need to get some zzz s while I can, as I’m planning to attack the canvases like the Devil on Heat tomorrow! For now - na razie…

A REDUNDANT NEW YEAR:

2006-01-31T17:00:00.001Z

Well, it’s all going pear-shaped (!) and I wouldn’t give a S H I T if it wasn’t for the fact that I just know, just know, with some proper bloody financial backing for once in my life, along with the time without money worries that would bring, the work would seriously take off! Then, of course there’s Dominika – Jesus - she must be starting to rue the day she fell for such a good-for-nothing..! But, with money down to zero and the loss of my only regular income gone, then going back to England to find work seems to be the only ‘sensible’ option, and I’m gutted!

Losing ‘the job’ was totally unexpected, although it shouldn’t have been! Something in the way of a clear lack of not seeing the writing for the wall on my part concealed what a couple of overlooked spelling mistakes should have told me otherwise - Two lousy ‘spelling mistakes’ though - that’s all it took from all the tens of thousands of faultless words to-date for them to send me packing! Perhaps there was more to it – I don’t know? I didn’t want to know – didn’t want Andrzej to elaborate – he’s become a good mate, and being as upset as me when he broke the news, I figured sleeping dogs were best left..! There’s still the odd bit of work around from Daniel of course, but being freelance himself, it can never be enough to survive on right now..!

I’m sure the whole situation will turn out to be a blessing however as I’m confident my star doesn’t bear the name of complete dummy, but there were a few tears shed over my decision to go back I can tell you! And I must say, the prospect fills me with dread and little hope of earning enough cash back in England to keep the flat on long term in Warsaw… Still, if we decide to eat, we all have to defecate occasionally, and although I’ve got a big case of the trots right now, I suppose I’ve just got to get on with it.

For now and the foreseeable future then – never mind eh…

THE WRITING’S ON THE PACKET:

2005-12-22T07:34:00.001Z

This is why I continue to think this language here is impossible to grasp..! I’m eating a bag of crisps, right – ‘chips’ in English here (and Polish I think)..! Anyway for months now, when buying bargains in the shops, I’ve taken any + % on packets of consumables as meaning something extra to scoff for the same price – understandable, and almost correct as it happens, but anyway... On eating my big bag of crisps tonight while downing my third can of Krolewskie I’m looking at the bag with it’s proclamation of 40% GRATIS with great interest, wondering just why this cost me more than a regular bag, and in consequence, just what “Gratis’ means in Polish afteral..? So, check this out in my huge Angielsko-Polski dictionary, but can only find the word ‘Grat’, which translates as ‘Junk’, followed by it’s adv., spelt ‘Gratis’! Weird I think, so send the following text off to Daniel:

If ‘grat’ means ‘junk’, and ‘gratis’ is the adverb, (I know, weird?) of ‘grat’, why have I got 40% in my bag of crisps eh? TO which the reply was:

Grat means an old piece of furniture or equipment, [so as an adverb, gratis can mean anything from lots of rubbish items, or some nice bit of crap, or hmm.., one really pathetic jalopy of a car] and anyway, GRATIS is Latin for Free, in case you’re not taking the Mickey :-) So Gratis might mean a shit car if that’s what you’re pointing at, but on a packet of crisps or fish fingers it means ‘free’… Why are you eating such Junk anyway?

But, eh? WHAT does all that mean and why did I pay extra for free crisps – sorry chips?

SO THIS IS WINTER:

2005-11-22T06:40:00.001Z

I thought I’d heard talk of cross country skis and snow shoes in and around the bars and cafes lately, and although we’ve had the very odd snow flurry throughout November didn’t think it was anything to write home about. Today though and I think I get it, as I woke this morning to my first ankle deep covering of the real stuff, with the whole city covered by a dirt-free pallor which, for me, looks somewhat alien. I can only remember seeing such a sight in town, way back in the winter of 1976-77 after that blistering summer of 76; when, to get to work down at the north dock, we had to wade through two feet of the stuff via Sunderland town centre. Since then, and snow, in and around urban spaces, has usually meant ten or so minutes dreaming of snowmen and sledging, followed almost immediately by the reality of freezing wet feet, filthy sludge and praying for spring to arrive; and, I’ve been waiting and staring out of the window for the last hour or so for this ashen delight to go the same way and turn to the usual slush; but nope, there goes a group of school bairns now, all togged up in bear outfits and trudging along with the necessary tennis rackets for footwear to stop them sinking in the blissful powdery surface…

You must think I’ve swallowed the vocabulary of a slushy, trashy novel, but seriously it’s so appealing out there at the moment that only crap will do to describe it, and indeed, looking at such a scene, and it seems ages ago since the beginning of the month when the weather was simply – filthy and the 1st of November saw in All Saints Day here, followed by The Day of the Dead – both huge holidays and serious stuff in Poland. I was advised to check out the ‘celebrations’ at a cemetery, as the sight is described by everyone as breathtaking – it seems every graveyard in Poland is lit up with trillions of candles etc. It’s a long story, but I missed the whole thing… Hopefully, next year I’ll get my act together..!

I did however get to attend the Independence Day celebrations on the 11th, which might have been interesting if I could have seen anything beyond the crowds...

And how about work? Well, it seems to have picked up from one source lately and disappeared from another for the time being, and the thing I've been avoiding like the devil, mainly because it involves teaching of a kind, has finally arrived… I suppose it was inevitable, and although I wouldn't like to earn my living from it.., yeah, it’s good as a supplementary income, but odd sort of work though!

Anyway, had my first experience doing what’s called ‘Conversation’ with Jasz (Andrzej's partner) and Beata – both really nice – Archaeologists so it transpires, but before they arrived the first time, was shitting myself – not knowing my English nouns from my adverbs etc...! Still it went really well and I surprised myself during the second session last night by really enjoying it. They’re both really interesting to share an hour or two with, and although their English does need tweaking a bit, no surprise here, but it’s already at a stage that puts my Polish well to shame and probably always will..! Still my Polish is getting a tiny bit better as the weeks pass, but when it comes to English, let’s hope Jasz and Beata don’t suss that my north-east accent is as broad as the River Wear, because most, if not all educated Polish English speakers here, as for those of you who’ve met any of my Polish mates may already have guessed, have very plumby BBC accents, and I suppose that’s what’s expected..?

Talking of which, and I’ve finally got broad-band up and running and it's very odd to listen to BBC radio again, and however much I used to hate the stupid rubbish, suppose beggars can’t be.., so I’ve even started listening to ‘The Archers’, just to get a whiff of some sort of entertainment on these cold dark nights... Actually, never could before, and still can’t follow the story lines...

On the ‘English’ theme, had a wonderful weekend this week, which included, surprise, surprise, a few beers down by the river where I’ve discovered a great bar which doubles as a venue for bands. When we were there with a couple of friends on Saturday, enjoying a great meal I might add, the band turns up, and they turn out to be a group of old British Punks, (I can’t quite remember who - fairly famous though - but after a few brews, I’d have to check with one of the others on that one). Anyway, we were there just up until the end of the sound check, so got to exchange the odd expletive or two with the members; it felt weird though, hearing a room full of coarse British voices again, as apposed to the usual ex-pats who, on the whole, usually wear very hoity-toity accents. The band had flown over just for the one night which made me feel really proud! In fact the short chat we had with the lads made me feel really proud all round to be British for the first time in my life... They were definitely great ambassadors of the right sort - God Save the Queen, and all that!

As far as kick starting the art career again is concerned and I knew before I started that this was going to be a long, long process and take more than a little inspiration here and a dab of paint there, and in consequence, have done very little in the way of video or painting this month in favour of writing… stupid waste of time I know, but The Book is coming along really well – (who am I kidding), but seven chapters finished and about twice as much again on the go, and it feels like I’m at least doing something creative, on paper anyway, if not in reality… I really still can’t get an angle on painting at the moment though, no matter how hard I struggle, so I suppose writing is better than doing nothing.

I haven’t been able to get in touch with the owner of the café/gallery for ages anyway, and to be honest, I haven’t done a single trace of work yet for the show which is supposed to be in February, so have kind of gone off the idea of showing there at all in favour of approaching a place we’ve just discovered. Raster Gallery, although having a crap name, truly is the place to show as a contemporary here, and to be honest I really think I’m in with a very good shout of getting in there... So, let’s just hope that the other place has forgotten all about me, or if not, then will have to be satisfied with showing some old stuff... Have got enough of the right kind of work in the archives anyway, so no sweat there really, but just can’t be arsed suddenly, as the venue posses some rather complicated logistical problems in setting up video... I think the guy expects me to provide projectors, Pc’s and the like as well... Hey, I’m not a cinema!

Onto more pressing matters however, and is there still no let up in the embarrassment. It’s one thing to be bottom of the table, but have the lads really got to deliver the present of yet another dismal-record in beating our previous relegation tally of, was it nineteen points last time we got relegated..? Going down for sure, but can we not at least do it in the manner of old, and weep on the final day of the season when goal difference is the only thing which sends us down..?

BEEN A BIT OF AN ODD MONTH REALLY:

2005-10-22T04:50:00.001+01:00

Clearly the summer has just about gone, although to be fair to Warsaw, it has given us some pretty fine, last minute dot com summer sunshine lately. Some days however and there’s been a distinctive sniff in the air of something I can't quite recognize, or vaguely recollect from childhood, and that's the whiff of a true Siberian winter on the way. Daniel tells me that the worst winter here since 1938 or 9 is predicted, with regular temperatures dropping to below -30. Jesus, can you imagine. The warmest winter-coat I own couldn't even withstand the horrors of +3 in Cambridgeshire – oh my god – clothing parcels will be well appreciated.

I believe I've resolved my food problem however. To the delight of those of you who have tried to make me cook real food for years, well, I've no choice here. I've finally given up on my search for TV Dinners, because there simply isn't any! All we have in Poland is good old, fresh organic food – can you imagine? Paradise I'm sure for some, but starvation for me until, biting the bullet, I’ve unfortunately had to begin bloody cooking… Oh how I dream of baked beans on toast! The local Sklep sometimes stock Heinz, (usually 4 tins), and although they cost an arm and a leg at around 80p each and even as much as a pound in English money – about 5 Zloty here, I usually buy all four; just in case I never see any again!

Paid work has been intermittent over the last few weeks or so however, so must start watching the pennies again – some days the works nonexistent actually, but you can guarantee that it all arrives at once. I'm currently getting documents to work through from two different sources, and dunno.., they both must have some telepathic contract going on or something, as they both always send me stuff at the very same moment..! (Andrzej and Daniel, you know I really don't mind, so keep lashing me with the work)! To be honest, long may it continue, as I'm really starting to need the cash!

Other news..? Well, my social life continues to improve day on day, and while I had a great time, meeting some fantastic people at the place up at the lakes the other week, you can’t beat Warsaw right now for ‘excitement’… Forget the many fantastic parks, galleries, museums and theatres – and there's also this perfectly lovely (idyllic really) little Bistro too on the corner of our street, (Wyzwolenia's no shit-hole – I promise you), but forget the lot of it. I’m not sure whether I've mentioned it before, but yours truly has chosen as his local, just 5 minutes away, the only thing to be found so far to resemble a true pub. The place, believe it or not, lies at the bottom of a public subway, and [the] Przejscie (The Passageway) café/bar is, I swear to God, the bar entrance to hell. If you think being a true metal freak in England is heavy, forget it, this place makes having a conversation with the devil along with his entourage seem like a cosy little chat over tea with the local clergy. Of course, I exaggerate a little, and the impression of terror is short-lived. The place, after the initial shock, and when you get used to the fact that most Polish guys regard a good scrap as nothing more than saying 'Czesc – how you doing me old mate,' then the bar is sweet home from home! In fact it's a strange place all round! Open 24-7, it swings from Death-Metal come Punk evenings all the way through to Karaoke on other nights, where the same regulars, alternate from debauchery one evening of the week to singing 'I did it my way,' in the way it's meant to be sung and only Frank and East Europeans can, on another. Actually most of the songs they choose to sing on karaoke nights are, I believe, for me anyway; obscure Polish folk songs that everyone joins in with. Strange, but Karaoke here hardly ever involves the Prima-Donna hogging of the microphone!

Anyway, I'm beginning to make friends down at The Passageway where the barman Michał shakes my hand vigorously every time I arrive, and quickly replaces whatever is playing on the Jukebox with what he believes to be my favourite musical preference - T-Love, and I sit and mull over with Marchin, a relatively good English speaker, the benefits and the disadvantages of the Polish accession to the Union; until that is, he runs out of English phrases, gets bored and buggers off to play chess with Michal.

Aha, at last, another document from Andrzej to assess... For now then, na razie!

MLEKO AND MONEY:

2005-09-16T04:45:00.001+01:00

Perhaps like a fool, I’ve just passed on the opportunity of a couple of weeks work with my old boss back in Cambridgeshire, which undoubtedly would have earned me enough cash for about a year’s rent here. I simply couldn’t afford to turn down the chance to start work here with Andrzej though. He owns the translation business I mentioned before, and since my foreseeable future lies here in Poland, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I'm currently checking over the work done by the company’s translators. It's really good work in that it can be done from home, and when I get into the swing of it, it shouldn’t interfere too much with the studio work – it’s a kind of curative process of work in a way, and although I keep assuring Filip that I really do find it interesting and massively therapeutic, I don't think he quite believes me yet - tells me to wait until February next year, when they get inundated with very long and boring accounts to translate, as to whether I still find it such… Well, we'll see! Anyway all the people I've met working there are really nice, and although they're treading carefully with me at the moment and passing only the easy stuff on, I really hope it works out, as I do enjoy it and it's a bloody relief to be earning here at last!

As I say, it really will allow me to get on with my own stuff; which, good news there too! The gallery (huge restaurant really), which I think I've mentioned before, definitely wants to show some of my videos, probably sometime in February, and I've also made contact with another gallery (Galeria Milan) situated in the Saska Kepa area of Warsaw, (a bit like Holland Park/Kensington), and owned by a woman by the name of Elzbieta Kochanek-van Dijk - If I'm not mistaken her maiden name, 'Kochanek', might just translate as 'love', or 'beloved' or something – well, my Polish had to start somewhere… Anyway, I should be meeting Pani Kochanek-van Dijk in two weeks time when she gets back from Amsterdam, and am pretty sure it's a done deal – a show of paintings – when I get the buggers done that is! It's true, the whole system of showing here is so much more relaxed than in England – believe me!

And yup, apart from missing friends and family, relaxed, is just how I’m starting to feel these days thank God! After losing my mum, things have definitely settled into some semblance of normality again. Well perhaps 'normality' is the wrong word, but, I'm certainly trying to enjoy life again, that's for sure, and continue to be totally in love with Warsaw and Poland in general.., to the bewilderment, I might add, of all I meet! But really, it is an absolutely fantastic city and although the language for me remains a problem, the people here are really great, if not always polite – Ask anyone here about the shop-keepers!

Just as in England, it goes without saying really, but, you'll still find me in a bar on my own most evenings, managing even now, to attract some bloody social intercourse or other – usually engaging with the nearest drunk, but hey, who am I to complain… But, the language is a problem...

I did however manage one night last week, to my delight and smugness, to ask the barman to put the only Polish band I know to-date on the 'juke box' and as I sat there ‘coolly’ clicking my fingers, and mouthing the odd word I'd picked up from previous listens to the strident strains of T-LOVE, thought I was getting somewhere, but with a smile on her face, was casually informed by a passing young punter that the 'T' in T-LOVE stood for 'Teenage' and that I was clearly far too old to find such libretto and tunes cool. I actually knew that anyway, but if you’ve ever tried to discover any good Polish contemporary music – forget it, it must be hidden well and truly underground somewhere very deep that only time and a lot of digging will uncover!

Hey, that aside, 'Libretto' indeed..! I had to look it up when I got home! They teach these Poles some very high class vocab.., I tell you! The same night I also got talking briefly to a guy the day after Poland had beaten Wales, and England had lost to Northern Ireland, and the only differences in the conversation between Him and Me, and Me and a Brit , was that a) It was very brief, as he knew about as much English as I know Polish, and b) No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't make him understand my joy at the results.., me being English, but because of family history that my allegiance lay with Scotland and so I was bound to feel happy!

So, am still spending most of any spare time wondering from cafés to bars and back again. Tell you, both beer and food here, as long as you avoid the traditional starter of cold dripping spread thickly on bread and some horrific sweet brew generally called 'burnt beer', then, well, it's unbelievably excellent – and cheap!

Just remembered; going back to the T-LOVE ditty... An English mate of mine, who’s lived in Krakow now for over ten years, when he was staying over at the weekend, told me the word here for Cool is 'Spoko', and as luck would have it just as he told me, this young guy was passing on his bike, doing a beautifully choreographed Evil Kerneval quality style wheelie across one of the main streets as we were crossing. Like a kid learning a new word for the first time.., when he was winging past on his chopper, I shouted S P O K O so loud in his direction that – honestly, I nearly caused a serious accident as he took off, swerved and very nearly wrote off a number of cars, one or two busses and a tram..! Poor lad, I just don't think it's the done thing for grown ups here – Poland is strangely a very conservative and polite society!

Jesus, talking of which – Do we owe a debt of gratitude to the people of Poland or what! Went along to the Muzeum Powstania Warszawskiego at the weekend. It's a place dedicated to The Warsaw Uprising, and you just wouldn't believe what the people of Warsaw have had to endure and overcome. I'm not ashamed to admit it – Apart from feeling ashamed of myself for knowing next to nothing about it all, the experience was deeply moving and I felt like crying my bloody eyes out when my eyes were adjusting to the sunlight of the street after leaving the museum! There’s no real excuse how little we’re taught in England regarding other historical perspectives, and in this case, the massive part Poland in general played in the second world war and modern history in a broader sense..! Anyway, what can I say...

Warsaw Uprisers

So yeah, Not much else to report, but we’re linking up with some Polish mates next week at their place in the country again and can't wait... More swimming in nature's great natural landscape for me then… But I do love it up there, and I manage to get plenty of time just to relax. As for the swimming in the lake though, I still can't believe how much I love it. I know the water here's much warmer than you'll ever find in England, but even so, I just wouldn’t entertain the idea back in home! Everyone here though seems to spend a lot of their leisure time conversing with nature. Ironically, when you experience seeing the mass exodus to the mountains and lakes at weekends from the big cities here, (Warsaw is deserted on Saturdays and Sundays), the view you get of people indulging in naturist keep fit behaviour does strangely remind me of all those old Nazi and Communist films of youth and the body beautiful... Very strange sight, but, beautiful it is… So on that note will sign off.

DOMINIKA, FRIENDS, FAMILY AND ‘ME MAM’..,

2005-08-15T16:40:00.001+01:00

.., thanks for all the support and being there!

Well, I thought I wasn’t altogether sure where I was going with this blog thing, but after the absolutely unexpected and shocking death of my mother, I’m not really sure about anything right now! And, being back in England for the last couple of weeks was just ‘a bit’ peculiar to say the least.

... As far as these things can, everything went ok with the funeral etc., and, lame excuses aside, for I've got to say that not having much to do with my family for too many years than I care to admit, if there's anything good to come out of Audrey’s death, it's that it's brought me, my dad, sister and brother, and a very special cousin, who knows who she is, back together just a bit more than I ever thought possible – even though they're still as ‘f*cked up’ and as mad as it gets ;-) it feels good to have sorted through some stuff with them! And, to see all my nieces and nephews properly for the first time was brilliant – they’re all utterly fantastic, if not all a bit off their trollies themselves ;-) Perhaps because he’s the only other ‘artist’ in the family and just a little older than the others, it was particularly nice to hit it off with my brothers eldest son, and while having a 'few' beers together, it was cool to be told in his own words that, in meeting me, “there actually was another normal Brewster walking the planet”!

It really has been a traumatic and queer couple of weeks however, and although I can’t claim to be as close to my mam as either my younger sister and elder brother, we were close nonetheless, and when this tragedy sinks in I’m going to miss her like crazy - a woman who can be described, yes, with all her faults, as a kind and fun loving lass who took no shit from anyone.

Not the best of circumstances to see mates and family really then, and God, I must admit that it's a bloody relief to be back in Poland – just to be able to flop for a bit and get my head round all this! Dominika’s been simply wonderful in keeping things ticking over in Warsaw, and seeing her beautiful smiling face searching for me as I passed through customs had me welling up uncontrollably; and I dunno - cliché certainly, but perhaps this blog/diary thing might just prove to be the kind of therapy I need right now.

For sure, the plan to paint just seems a little difficult to comprehend at the moment - although I suppose I mustn’t let it slide. Thankfully stuff here however is picking up a bit... I managed to get my first bit of paid work a couple of days ago, which is a huge relief – some proof reading from a mate called Daniel – not a lot of it, but should be more where it came from, and more regular proof reading is on the cards from a second source - Andrzej, a great friend of Dominika's who runs a translation business of his own! Mind you, it's not as easy as I thought it might be, but it takes little thought and it's fun to think that your own bad interpretation of bad English will find it's way into government documents, newspapers and novels etc… Am also really trying to pick up where I left off with the painting I was doing before I left for England, but as I’ve already said, although it’s proving hard to put anywhere near is required, I quite simply mustn’t let it go completely! A missed meeting must be re-arranged with the Gallery I was supposed to have shown some work to before I had to leave – A bit nervous about it, as it's over three weeks ago I promised to meet with them – but hey, they should surely understand why I buggered up..? It's a bloody promising opportunity too. The Gallery, which is situated in the centre of Warsaw and within walking distance of the flat also doubles up as a very trendy café frequented by the right kind of loaded buyers – Government Officials, Lawyers, Film Stars etc... It's part owned by an American woman, so language for a change should prove to be straightforward!

Actually, on that note, suppose I'd better get on with some work! For now - Thanks again everyone…

WELL, HERE WE GO

2005-07-31T21:46:00.000+01:00

Well, here I am anyway, and I’m not quite sure where we’ll be going with all of this, but as Herb Cohen quite kindly pointed out to those of us always en-route to somewhere else, “If you don't know where you’re going, you can never get lost”.