Monday, February 12, 2007


Most of the people that I know go to their jobs and then come home again. Whether or not they enjoy their employment they do not in the main spend much of their spare time worrying that they ought to be practising artists. The teachers amongst them have holidays, which I imagine to be filled mainly with daytime TV, shopping and reading. I could be wrong about this, but I am reasonably sure that the majority of teachers do not spend their holidays stressing that they are wasting their time and ought to be working. Really. Do they?

Today I went to see an open access printmaking studio. I will confess that I was intimidated by this studio, as one is by new places and new people, and the thought of going back to something that one used to be reasonably good at. The journey home involved crawling through the Blackwall Tunnel for an hour or so, during which time I managed to convince myself that the whole thing was an entirely terrible idea.

It also occurred to me (before the traffic incident of horror) that If I'd just got on and done all the things I have thought about doing but disregarded because I decided they were entirely terrible ideas, then I'd be able to consider myself a practising artist.