Beckett

This week I've been underpainting a new picture with an uncertain title. After five days of eight hours it's about half complete and will probably be my last original painting of the year. There are some angel wings that will probably prove problematical so I'll need to think hard about those over the coming days. Andrew Williams has caused me to think about Samuel Beckett so I've revisited Waiting for Godot. Most of his plays were rather surreal if I recall correctly but my memories of Godot are all good. It's a play with two nearly identical acts where hardly anything happens, yet it sums up life in all of its pointlessnesses and hopes. I've been writing the odd song too and have notes for three more but none are particularly good. The best is one that wasn't written at all, I just found myself singing "Well I've wasted all my time" over and over again. This probably sums up the long, arduous and probably pointless nature of the painting I was doing. "Well, shall we go? Yes, let's go. They do not move."