I'm spending my days painting and writing poetry and my evenings writing prose, or trying to, learning to, studying how to. So far my writing is cold and logical, aptly descriptive but emotionless like my daily personality, but my poems like my art are loaded with feeling. Trying to bridge these two is my goal then. My experiments are taking place on a story about a leprechaun and a sheep, which I've written in synopsis, then expanded to a short draft and now expanded further. I will write it again in a different style.
In painting, the underpainting to Financial Circumstances is now complete, as is a very automated painting called Female God which I last worked on in November (I added an improvised landscape). Today I've been working on There's A Lot to be Said for Hormones which so far is as perfect in execution as I could hope for. My days are filled with work and painting then which is a perfect distraction. I wonder if my life is to be like this forever.
Our member of parliament Edward Timpson is to visit my exhibition next month which is a nice surprise. He seems like a nice chap, and I voted for him which is bound to help with rapport.
