Steady work, mostly on paintings. Prepared study panels and drawings for 'Can There Be A Refuge From The Terror?', and a new tiny panel for a new idea involving a strawberry, then went out with Deb. I found an old frame, and started work on a new idea 'Memory Of The Lost Boy', photographing lighting guides and drawing it out.
Today, de-framing and restoring the old frame. Removing and cleaning off old tape and other things. It had visible gaps at the corners, so I glued them tight with a syringe of glue, then clamped the frame to dry. Projects like this are as much inspiration as practical work, there's no better incentive than a blank canvas and an empty frame. Then, preparing a panel and tracing over the new 'boy' drawing. I think that a solvent-based wood filler might be useful, so I've started to experiment with mixes of chalk and acrylic resin in acetone. This can make a very strong glue/filler, but I'd prefer something softer and sandable. Pure chalk and water is almost enough (this flakes away to dust if knocked), so I need to work out how little resin to use, and how little or how much acetone for the best consistency.
This, plus today, the transfer of the last two albums to my new distributor. I'll leave the last couple of albums, those that demand remastering, for a few months. The admin work of music is never ending, and over time it grows, making a back catalogue take up a huge amount of time. Today I discovered that Bandcamp now have per-track ISWC codes, so that's something new to add to the 37 albums on there. Half an hour each would be a half a week's work.
I think tomorrow I'll paint the new picture, it's such a simple idea that it doesn't need a study, and perhaps a colour study for 'terror'. Then, I need to glaze the 'Gaia' painting so that it's ready to enter into The ING Discerning Eye competition.
Here's the poster I designed for John's music event:
And here the new cover for The Golden Age. I was never quite happy with the first version, so I've tweaked it, and today, tweaked even more:
Onwards we march.
