Chester Lit Prize, Crushed Are The Weak, Palette Knives, WANL

A lovely visit to Chester yesterday for the Literature Prize Awards. Nice to see Chris Driver finish as a runner up, and spoke with script winner Andy Hayward, who I'd previously met at the launch of Go Sprout The Grain in Crewe Library last September.

Slept badly and awoke with stomach pain and a faintingly weak feeling of low blood pressure. It took many hours to feel anything close like back to normal. Despite this weakness, a manic day of work, first completing the underpainting to the large 'Crushed Are The Weak' painting. One of my finer underpaintings, executed in record time. My palette knife broke, new less than 12 months ago:

The previous one lasted 18 years. I'll not buy Winsor and Newton Palette Knives again, and will try an RGM knife next.

Today is also the official release day of the War And Nuclear Love EP, my only new release of 2026, and my 85th release since 1999 (including singles, not including re-releases/remasters/re-recordings). This also too some time. At times today I felt suicidally tired of life, but of course fought on. Now feel exhausted but happy. Next, must walk 2 miles to collect Heaven And Hell by Vangelis, then visit Deborah.

Backups, Prometheus v388, Crushed Are The Meek Day 1

Quarterly backups yesterday, then a small upgrade to Prometheus to permit beats-per-minute of up to 9999. This is obviously of no (well, limited) use musically but can be used to skip beats at high speed for example, as tempo can be set programmatically. This also revealed a slight bug that limited speeds to 1 tick being 64 samples, which is the smallest amount of audio that can be processed (one chunk). I also made rough plans for a painting about the summer heat, with inspiration from Cabanel. I must prove that I can paint better. I must find room and time for a larger work.

Today, underpainting 'Crushed Are The Meek'.

The background is a mix of storm-filled sky and an angry, yet tear-filled, face in this largely abstract work, similar to Picasso's cubism perhaps. The face textures and shading were copied from an Ingres portrait, adding realism to what could easily be too abstracted. The light blue background worked wonderfully.

I'm painting better than ever. What fools those who don't select my paintings for exhibition are!

Panel Preparations, Three Counties Results

Collection from Bunbury yesterday, then panels prepared and tracing of the underdrawings for 'Crushed Are The Meek', and 'All The Broken Hearted'.

'Can There Be A Refuge From The Terror?' was not selected for the Three Counties Open, making this the first time I've not been selected for this. Perhaps this was due to the nudity, perhaps due to the digital submission which favours acrylic and digital art and hinders oil paintings. I've entered 5 non-juried exhibitions this year (a high amount, there are a few new exhibitions and Stockport was not juried for the first time this year), and 4 juried. I've failed to be selected for 2 of those, with 2 remaining for judgement, which are very difficult national-level exhibitions.

Them And Us Underpainting

First day when it's cool enough to paint. Met two 90 year olds yesterday and am thinking constantly about death. Underpainted the small 'Them And Us', here it is, with the colour study on the left.

Listened to Vangelis' Albedo 0.39, and ordered Heaven And Hell. I suspect that these are his best two albums. I didn't like Direct.

Dizzying Heat, Bunbury, All The Broken Hearted

Too hot to work yesterday, hooter than any day of the heatwave so far here. It's joy is that Deb has been sheltering here, her 33 degree flat swapped for my relative cool of 28.

In the evening, a trip to Bunbury Church to see the art in their Inspire26 exhibition, I have 3 paintings there. I recognised only 3 names in the catalogue. We spoke briefly to Deb's friend and her daughter, the latter of which is exhibiting.

Today is mercifully milder. An early visit to the moribund Auntie L. I felt weak, then found I couldn't stand up for much longer and had to recover on the floor. My heart rate is 50 to 60 and my strange weakness has continued, a result of the heat perhaps.

Some work however, have finalised the sketch for the 4th painting in my current tranche, 'All The Broken Hearted', and photographed the underdrawing (bless my camera that it can pick up these faint pencil lines!):

In the afternoon, made air-dried clay Golems, inspired by Deb's Prague holiday, then a lighting model for the painting. Generally have felt too tired and unfocused to work at an efficient rate.

Good Vibes, Heatwave Continues

Attended Good Vibrations in Congleton Library yesterday. It was very hot, but tolerable and always fun to play there. We skipped the regular post-performance lunch, and came straight back at noon rather than remain for another hour or two, to avoid the heat during the long drive back.

Then, more heat. It's now 26.4 in here. At 21:00 yesterday it was 28, lowering to 25 point something by about 22:30 with the window open wide. Windows open and curtains wide all night, and the indoor temperature dropped to 24.9 at lowest at 04:30. I barely slept, uncomfortably hot and worried about when to close windows and curtains. Closed the windows and curtains at 07:00 or so, at 25 degrees inside, then slept until after 09:00, by which time it was 26, but 24 elsewhere in the house, so perhaps I should have left all open.

Either way, too hot to work. Too hot to paint as I need ventilation, and computer work too causes the room to heat up, so is not advisable. Deborah is shielding here in this well-insulated house, her upstairs flat with no insulation is 2 to 6 degrees hotter than here.

We've cancelled our performance at the Ray Davies night in Congleton tonight, as it's due to be even hotter than yesterday, probably over 30 degrees at 18:00 when we're due to leave, and the venue is not insulated or air-conditioned, and is very cramped and full of people. The evening would be an endurance more than joy. Very sad not to attend, I've been rehearsing 'Little Bit Of Emotion' for weeks, but gave Deb a performance of this yesterday. Perhaps I can do the same at the next Good Vibes event.

I'll attempt some smaller jobs today. First, preparations for the Steam Sale, due to start later today. I'll draw out a painting perhaps. Mike sent over a few songs, which are always inspiring, they're always full of his energy and creative spirit. Too tired and hot to want to do anything. It's due to be equally hot tomorrow, a little cooler on Saturday, and the heatwave is due to end on Sunday. How I pity the wildlife, the trees and plants suffering in this heat, the people without shelter, those who work in kitchens, the patients and staff at the local hospital which is notoriously hot in even normal summer weather.

Sisyphus rolls his rock over the desert floor.

June Heatwave 2026

Too hot to paint this week, record-breaking heat today, and forecast to be hotter tomorrow and Thursday. Heat is good for painting, but it has to be cool enough to be able to open the windows.

Drew out the basic outlines for 'All The Broken Hearted' yesterday. This morning, collected paintings from Nantwich Museum. Both had crude overpainting of the mirror plates, which damaged one frame substantially. I needed to do a lot of paint removal and restoration to fix it; solvents, scraping, wood stain, painting; but now it is restored. Have rehearsed my song for the Ray Davies night in Congleton, a rare night of performance on Thursday.

I'd like to do more work but it's too hot for many jobs, lost productivity. Later today, delivery to Bunbury Church.

All Things Bright And Beautiful Underpainting

Today painted the underpainting to 'All Things Bright And Beautiful'. Unusually, most of the underpainting is a grisaille, in grey, rather than tinting towards the final colours, although those areas where I wanted a stronger final colour were colourised:

I wanted something delicate, cyan-greys in the sky, flesh-greys for the monolith. There is a strong green imprimatura here too, which somewhat taints the underpainting, but it seems to look on track for the glazing.

I haven't painted in greys for some years. My second version of 'The Art Of Painting' (2008) was painted in grey in and yellow like this, that took me 6 8-hour days to paint, and this of a similar size (less complexity certainly) took 6 hours.

It was 24 to 26 degrees in my room as I painted, at the start of week forecast to break heat records. Hot and sunny days makes painting easier, but if it's too hot I can't open the windows, which is not good when working with solvents. It will probably be too hot then to paint tomorrow and for the rest of the week, which will be taken up with deliveries anyway, to Bunbury, collection from Nantwich Museum, and two performance days, on Wednesday and Thursday for the Good Vibrations and Ray Davies Tribute events.

Them And Us, Crushed Are The Weak, ATBAB Studies

Today, drew out a new large painting as planned 'Crushed Are The Weak', which (in my old ideas book) was titled 'The Weak Always Get Crushed'. I didn't noticed the cliffs until I'd draw it out, to me these were the White Cliffs of Dover, which has given the painting a refugee theme; certainly one about England. The colours here are difficult as the painting has few defined borders or real-world 'objects', it's something like a miasma of shapes, like a swirl of papers blowing in a storm. It reminds me of later Picasso or Basquiat. I'm reminded that when the mood is ugly, the painting, it's delicacy and coloration, should look as beautiful as possible.

I painted a second colour study for 'All Things Bright And Beautiful', which on the face of it looks very like the first version:

I needed to resolve the horizon. In the centre, light orange, but dark on the right, which looks better, more dramatic. The narrative actually changes as we look along the horizon. The red sun we see first, then look left to the sunset and dandelions, then right at the rusty swing of the end-of-leg. I was also unsure about the foreground floor, which was almost flesh-like in the first version, but looks better green; dark yellow here. The greyer flesh works better too. In my mind the colours are H. R. Giger's, cyan greys. I keep thinking that it might be better to underpaint in greys, something I haven't done in many years. This will have the decayed, romantic beauty of a moonlit graveyard.

The third study was the colour study for 'Them And Us'. This is all pinks, with yellow lights, and yellow and black for green darks.

How brilliant my paintings are at the moment. How brilliant my unappreciated genius. How short life is. I must make stoic plans to paint these. I had planned four in this group but may start on these three instead. The fourth, 'All The Broken Hearted' would be third in a sequence of heart-break paintings after 'Cracked Planet' and 'So, How Have You Been?'. This is a big project, a big series. Would it have commercial appeal? Artistic appeal, certainly. Appeal for fine art collectors, of course. I'd need somewhere to show it, something to do with it, and a triptych of large paintings can be severely limited in where I can submit them.

Pat Benatar Glazing, Beam Piper, and All Things Study

Last night, a nightmare. I was gifted two brass figures of monk-like jews in cloaks, one had a wavy beard as a father, one without as a son, I initially confused the two until I saw the beard. I put them on the mantelpiece then noticed a caterpillar, striped like a yellowjacket wasp, inject one with an ovipositor, ultimately to kill the figure with a parasite. I covered the insect with a sheet of paper to trap it. The insect changed into a wasp, then a beetle, growing, and becoming stronger as I tried to trap it by folding the edges of the paper. It tried to escape but I managed to trap it by rapidly folding and crimping the paper edges. It was a large beetle, still visible through the paper, still yellow and black striped. I showed it to someone present but it burst through the paper, now a huge hornet, 25 or 50cm long. I dropped the paper and tried to step on it. It transformed into a giant millipede, still growing, and managed to crush it though it was a 30cm long and very fat. It lay broken into skeletal parts. I said that I wouldn't be surprised if it came back to life.

I awoke to a day of painting in the 24 degree heat.

First, glazing 'Sisyphus Rolling A Coconut Dangerously Towards The Critical Mass Of Pat Benatar':

Work was slow but the results were very good. Then glazing another layer on the H Beam Piper painting. The storm part in particular needed some smoothing, and there was slight damage to the top right corner due to trying to glaze last time while the surface was semi-dry. Both things were easily done and to good effect.

I was reminded of several things. First, that Dali wrote something about the coefficients of viscosity never being the same twice when painting. So true. Some hair strokes of Pat Benatar were hard and laboured, some dreamlike and perfect. The same was true of the fine details of the storm near the black hole of H Beam Piper. I was then reminded of Dali's mention of Venetian Turpentine (a resin) for these upper layers. I've not tried this. Resins seem to offer a good solution to fat over lean while increasing fluidity. My next experiment will be using Laropal A81 dissolved in Spike Lavender Oil, but this process seems to take months. In a way, this itself is a good thing. Such a resin should be difficult to dissolve to be useful.

I was also reminded today of a quote by Jan Swafford, that the reality of life for most artists is art or death. A non-artist can't understand this, there is no third option. Artists must, by compulsion, make art all of the time, perhaps because they recognise the speed of life, that we'll die anyway; why work, retire, and die, when we can make a mark or cry at the void then die with greater satisfaction?

One last painting job was a colour study for 'All Things Bright And Beautiful', a strange painting which I like more and more. It's already powerful and strange. There are various challenges in tone and colour. There's a sun, which I'd normally paint light yellow, certainly bright, but here I felt it needed to be red. I was reminded, another reminder, that in a painting, reality is relative, that what is light, dark, cold, warm in reality is different in a painting. Contrast and balance are more important.

Art Photography Stands Complete, Ugly Ducklings Become Swans

I built a flatbed guide to align the towers yesterday, and set a 3mm piece of MDF in the centre to accommodate the uneven wood bottom, to make the L-plates the main support.

The towers were laid along the line and the L-plates glued to their sides in exactly the right place. Once the glue had set, after 10-mins, these were drilled and screwed firmly. Today, testing. The existing rivnuts on the bases generally fit, some better than others, but enough that I didn't have to make adjustments, all good. The towers are now very accurate in height and verticality. For towers 1175mm tall, they're so close that any tiny movements due to stepping nearby or touching them is bigger than the difference between them. Without a new room with a flat concrete floor, this is as good as I can get.

Then, setting up and testing the camera alignment. Cheeseplates were again fitted, first using one loose screw as a pivot, the camera set between them on the steel rods. The screw was gradually tightened as the alignment got better, then the tilt checked with a spirit level, and the screw moved to tilt the plate just fractionally. Eventually things were set correctly. The final calibration was on the main camera shoe, the step I'd neglected yesterday. After this, all was set. The cheeseplates were fixed down with hot-melt glue, and when it was set, screwed to lock them in the exact place. A final test of the resolution and alignment:

This gives a resolution of 331.845dpi, to the 1.25mm thick ruler. The resolution will be higher for thicker objects (paintings on 3mm or 6mm board, or 10 to 20mm deep for canvas). This is good. Not too high, as the image files would be too large. I'd aimed for 300dpi plus 10%.

The project has cost me £94.12 in new buys, £146.74 if I include the Smallrig parts (some I had previously bought), and more still if I include the many rivnuts and the few bolts needed. This is double what I'd anticipated, and it's taken 4.5 days, longer than hoped, but this should speed up and simplify my art photography, particularly for larger works. One reason I'd avoided painting larger is that it was hellishly difficult and stressful to photograph them. I'm amazed that the old flimsy tripods ever managed to take an accurate multi-part photo of my paintings. Perhaps they rarely did, it's just that such inaccuracy is tolerable for most people.

So, this improved rig is a necessary step forwards for my art. One of my tenets is that any short-term effort to improve things by 1% is worth it. Spending £100 or £500 to improve your art by 1% is worth it. Over time those 1% values will add up, pushing you beyond those artists who didn't invest in those 1% improvements. The tortoise betters the hare, ugly ducklings become swans drip by tiny drip.

Stands v2 and v3

A lot of engineering is doing things in the right order, but sometimes you don't know the right order until it's too late. Yesterday I took off the cheeseplates with the aim of resetting them in the correct place. A first levelling test this morning revealed than one tower was leaning 14mm to its right, this explains the 14mm skew I experienced when first testing.

I decided to ignore this, and simply shift it 14mm left when using it. The flatness and angle of the top will be set later, so the lean should not matter beyond this. I set it up, but the skew remained. Either the orientation was flat with a sideways drift as I slid forwards, or the orientation was at an angle with no drift. The drift was small, about 30mm, but annoying, there should be none! I fixed it in place, knowing that it's not a serious problem, though a painting that might just fit may slide out of the correct view.

Then I thought it might be the camera, not my stands, and sure enough the so-called 90-degree steel L-plate on the camera was not at 90-degrees. There are adjustment screws on the base and one was loose; the camera was twisted anti-clockwise, which explained everything. If I'd realised this before attaching the cheeseplates I could have fixed it and would have left things.

But the 14mm lean AND this skew problem were too annoying to ignore, and I knew I'd end up starting again from scratch as I've done with countless projects, countless paintings. If it's not right, I must fix or start again. I'm not a perfectionist but I have a low tolerance for imperfections. So, I began to effectively make stand v3.

This afternoon I scraped off the hot-melt glue from the cheeseplates and removed the L-plates from the towers. These were really strongly welded on by the superglue, unexpectedly so. The L-plates are caked in glue and wood fragments, I'd have to dunk them in a lot of paint remover to clean them. At £6 each, it's easier to buy more, so I'll do that. The towers are scarred but it's superficial not structural. I'll invert the towers, use the top as the bottom to restart the setting process.

One step is to make a guide, from 18mm MDF, with a 1M guide line and 90-degree flat base in the right place, to place and set the towers exactly vertically. This is now complete.

This two-day job will take a week, but this is part of an iterative design process. Build, expect errors and lessons, rebuild, etc.

Photography Stands Part 2

A busy couple of days working on the photography stands. My solution to fixing the cheeseplates to the towers was to use hot melt glue. This was a tad nightmarish, as hot melt glue tends to set instantly when touching the cold metal, but after 2 attempts on Tower A, and 3 on Tower B, scraping off in between, the two were fitted closely enough, certainly under 1mm height difference. Once initially stuck, I filled the little oval lakes with glue, then screwed them flat.

After that, fixing the L-brackets to the footplates, which was a matter of lining up the towers, which stood well by themselves. Everything was accurate, so I glued the L-plates to the sides with superglue first, and 10-mins later laid them down, drilled and screwed, so these were exactly in the correct place.

Here's the tower top, with 15mm tube holders.

I didn't consider at first that the footplates will need to be removable. There's no way I could store these huge things when assembled, and they're rarely needed, so a next step was drilling the footplates (by hand) and fitting M4 rivnuts so that I can bolt and un-bolt the towers to the bases. After drilling 4 per side, only about 2 each side were accurate enough - these have be be very accurate, much more than 1mm. 2 out of 4 is fine, but in retrospect I could have done this better. I managed to fix one fairly easily, by removing it, drilling the hole bigger, inserting the rivnut edged with thick superglue, then assembling the top. The glue takes a few mins to set, allowing me to bolt it together and allow it to set in the exact correct place.

Today, testing. It's already a lot easier than the tripods, but they are not quite perfectly lined up, which in retrospect should have been expected. Lining these up to be straight over the lengths of a metre-or-so would be nigh on impossible by hand. The solution is to permit calibration. This pair are always used in tandem. It seems that a twist of 14mm on the 600mm width will set them just about right (to about -/+1mm on the 840mm length). It doesn't actually matter that much anyway, the skew would mean a similar skew on the photographed paintings, but still, it would be nice to get things as good as I can manage.

My plan is to fit another accurately glued rivnut, M6 this time, on the front right edge of the footplate. This will fit a rounded-headed bolt to be screwed in or out to calibrate perfectly. Once done, it will probably never need touching.

Art Photography Stands Begin

Bought some wood today to make new stands for the rails for my art photography. I have a conundrum. I had 6 lengths cut, 95mm wide by 1147mm long, from 18mm deep MDF. These 6 pieces had to be cut from two pieces of MDF, so the 1147 length was about 1mm out for two of the lengths (numbers 2 and 5 in the picture; I chose these as the central plank). Each width isn't perfect but this is less important. The length needs to be as accurate as possible. I've glued them together to make 2 bunches of 3. Here is the end:

This, ideally, should be completely flat. I need to work out the best way to do this. If I had a band saw or table circular saw (or table anything) this would be easy, or much easier, but I haven't. I could use a router, but 72x95mm is a big edge, I have no router bits 72 or 95mm long (the depth in the view above is 95mm). I wondered about fitting a cutting drill to the router. I could sand it flat, but would ideally need a right-angle sanding table. My drum sander is best at removing wood but is hand-held, like all of my sanders. Alternatively, I could saw it by hand somehow. The jigsaw should be deep enough. A hand cut would probably be more accurate than the current edge, but not perfect, and it might be less accurate. The 1mm tolerance there now might be enough.

Alternatively I could cut it shorter and glue a flat piece accurately on top, using a gap filling plaster-type glue. I'd need to experiment again with glues. I've had some good results from wood glue and chalk to make a thick glue; but I'd have to do this separately for each of the two stands (the two groups of three) so that itself might make the results less accurate than they are now; it's most important that they are the same, the exact height isn't so important.

Stockport, Hedge and More, Hockney

Two busy days. Yesterday, a physically demanding day dropping off artwork to Stockport. I booked an Open Off-Peak Return train ticket for the 11:10 before realising that the gallery didn't open until 13:00, so we decided to take the 12:10; yet at 10:24 I thought that perhaps the taking the 11:10 was an essential ticket requirement and panicked that we wouldn't be allowed on the 12:10, so I dashed the mile to to railway station to at least collect the tickets before the trip. I had to pay £4 extra for real tickets rather than 'e-tickets' on the smartphone I don't have; another premium. I made it back for 11:10 after a near-run there and back, then had to rapidly eat, wash and pack before departing at 11:40 for the 12:10. We made it, and the trip went without a hitch.

After the drop-off we wandered around Stockport for a couple of hours. This became exhausting, I'd forgotten that the town was so mountainous. We explored a few shops in unexpected summer heat, then dashed for the 15:04 train (which, like the outgoing train, was late) and home, buying things to cook and eat on the way. After the meal, Deb re-potted some plants, and ultimately the hours flew.

Today started by a big job of an annual trim of the garden hedge, re-packaging new heavy-duty staples (which involved heat and solvent, they're so badly packaged), wrapping presents for my brother's birthday, repainting a porcelain statue which I'd accidentally broken. The glued parts have set well but there are two tiny fragments missing. Not yet any other work done.

I heard that David Hockey died. I guess that Francis Bacon, David Hockney, and Lucien Freud were three key artists of British mid-20th century art, in that order with Bacon the shining star. After that Gormley, Kapoor, and the YBA's but these are the next generation. I also discovered that our 11:10 train was over 45 minutes late anyway, so all the better to skip that.

Kafka Glazing Complete, Art Photography

Second day of Kafka glazing yesterday.

Today started with art photography of three new paintings: 'Song Of Innocence', 'Love And Fragility In The Age Of Perfection', and 'The Blood Of Winter'. Setting up lights and the camera track took over an hour, and photography, digital stitching and disassembly of the rig took until 13:00. Then framing 'Song Of Innocence' for the Stockport Open drop-off tomorrow. Thus the day has flown on these small but important tasks.

I modified the lights a bit today, repairing one light and naming each leg for each position, as some stick or don't work in some positions. The tripods are the most complex and awkward part of the photography set up, each has a swivel head and the pair need perfect parallel alignment at an exact height. There's no need for adjustment of the height, so a fixed wooden post would do the job far more easily, so my next job is to build this. While photographing today I experimented with height adjustments for 300dpi, and this can be improved. The resolution before was nearly 400dpi, making the photographs large to process, and requiring more segments than needed. I'll aim for 330dpi.

Glazing Kafka

First day of glazing the Kafka portrait.

John Deaconitis, All Things Bright And Beautiful Plans

Felt a little lost yesterday and over the weekend, darting from one thing to another in an unconstructive way. This was partly due to the circumstance of needing to visit Cotebrook on three consecutive days, that plus charging into developing 12 paintings at once, and aiming to write bits of my book - scattergun plans.

Last night I listened to my latest music purchase, Queen's The Miracle, an album which was (when it was released) our first CD purchase for our new and amazing CD player when I was 16 years old. Oddly, my memory of this event takes place in our old house in Culland Street, even though we left there in 1985 or so. Anyway, I've had Queen's albums up to The Game for years, but have recently decided to buy the rest as a reward for different milestones. I've bought the Deluxe Version, which comes in rubbishy cardboard packaging which went immediately into the bin; but the music is brilliant, especially the second CD. I didn't like the album much in the 1980s, but now I love it.

Last night I sang along, and have even jammed along on guitar, which is always great fun. At night though, I fell into a despair, and today too.

Today I think this is a new disease: John Deaconitis. I used to think that John, the so-called 'quiet member' of the band, somehow let the band down by leaving Brian and Roger to tirelessly (in every sense) perform and promote Queen since Freddie Mercury's death. Queen are uniquely a band with a fixed canon (we must discount the Queen and Paul Rodgers album); and Brian and Roger have promoted their legacy and performed their past works for longer, now, than the band itself was active.

John wrote 'I Want To Break Free', and I felt this was a not-so-hidden message. I suddenly felt that he was the most emotional member of the band, perhaps the most fragile. I thought of Anthony Phillips, the original guitarist from Genesis who couldn't cope with the pressure of being in a band and quit after one or two gigs. I, with Deaconitis, was hit again with the devastation of Freddie Mercury's death, and suddenly felt unable to continue in art. I thought of the desperate quest for financial security, which is an ever-present trap for art; nobody is secure, the engine of success is to charge forwards aflame. For an artist, art or death must be the only options, and only in death can an artist succeed.

In the morning I wrote a few more words to my oil painting book, then investigated plans for making some new stands for art photography, though these were distractions from my main plans of painting; these unwelcome distractions due to my searching brain. Then, at last, I felt cured and started to work on one of the new painting ideas. One way to limit being overwhelmed is to plan works in group of 4. Here's the original idea:

The painting is as much a mood as anything, perhaps a quest for love or recognition. I expanded this a little, using a dandelion as a visual theme. Now the figure in repose, perhaps like the woman in The Untouchable Strawberry, is a monolith and monument. I changed the title to 'All Things Bright And Beautiful'.

In my mind, it's a funerary monument, yet organic and beset with weeds, a monument to art. It's not so much personal as heroic and romantic. I'll complete the drawing transfer this evening. Tomorrow I aim to paint Kafka. Onwards we charge.

Deserted Party Dream, Cotebrook Collection

I dreamt of a party. It was night, downstairs in a house somewhat like this one. My parents were present, and I think Deborah. I was looking at a picture frame, examining the gold and dusted edge, a finish like the God Being Killed frame from Cotebrook. Derren Brown arrived and wanted to show us a trick. I went upstairs to drop off the frame, my mind focused on my art work. I came down to find the house dark and empty, I was alone. In distress I searched and cried for the others to no avail. I'd never felt so alone.

The dream woke me for many hours, hunger was perhaps a factor as I'd eaten perhaps 1000 calories yesterday due to strange food times. Slept accidentally until late and woke feeling exhausted, a feeling which persisted for most of the day.

I followed Mark Eaton on Instagram, an oil painter and excellent portrait artist whom I met at the Cotebrook opening. Wrote a few hundred words of my painting book, and prepared the frame for the Claire Luce portrait, which I must photograph before Friday. Then, the trip to Cotebrook to collect my paintings. I felt that my work stood out but my works had no response from public votes; this is normal.

Discounting speaking with my darling Deborah, I perhaps speak more words when singing on my albums than I speak to most humans in other ways in a typical year. I've had more social, more isolated times; and recent years have been the latter. I noted that we've had no Fall in Green performances or engagements so far in 2026.

This evening, working on a painting drawing. Only after the meal at 17:30 do I have any energy.

Onwards we roll our heavy rock. Nature's sun welcomes us, a new day of art beckons.

Art Choices, Cotebrook Drop

Spent much of yesterday checking competition dates and organising. I may enter the Stockport Open next week, and checked my RWA entries. I didn't enter the RWA last year, so I could enter those planned pieces this year (only on my first attempt in 2016 did I have a painting selected for the RWA; 10 years, I tried again in 2017, 2018, 2023, 2024).

Wrote about brushes in my How to Paint book in the afternoon, before the drop-off to Cotebrook Village Hall near Tarporley, of which the launch is later today.

Also scanned many painting ideas which I thought were good, that deserved to be painted. Idea after idea seem brilliant, deserving of being seen, being painted. Almost tearful at them and the huge lack of visibility for these. I sized the ideas and marked the paper. I needed criteria of which to paint. Many are distinctively mine, many have pathos - these are two key criteria; but what will be their destination? Most of my art over the years has simply say here, unseen or rarely seen. I enter competitions and exhibitions, and now have a gallery to sell works, but much of my work isn't commercial in the decorative sense. Some would suit museums, the Kafka portrait for the Kafka Museum, 'Self Inspection At Theresienstadt' for the Jewish Museum, or in Israel, with Fritta's. The Dadd painting should be in the Tate; yet most of my work would really need a Mark Sheeky Museum because it barely fits anywhere else.

I can charge into painting, I can paint faster than ever, and this year my plans are for larger paintings. This means that each painting takes longer, costs more in materials and resources, and takes up more storage space, but large works are more easily sold and more impressive in any event, so perhaps larger is better, except that it limits quantity of art because larger paintings take more time.

It's interesting that my work largely emulates Dali's in size; a huge variety from tiny to large, though I rarely paint over 1M (The Invisible Woman is 69x120, Revelation 120x74). Most competitions now limit size to under 1M, and these are hard to show or transport anywhere. The new gallery will be my first chance in years to show and sell these large works. Revelation, for example, is unframed and have only been shown for one day during our first Fall in Green performance, 14 Jul 2017

Benatar Layer, Song Of Innocence Glazing

Hopes to glaze the Pat Benatar painting today, but the eyes needed adjustment, so did with a secondary opaque layer, a post-underpainting.

Then added a second glaze layer (and the signature) to the simple portrait of beauty 'Song of Innocence'. I rarely add more than one glaze layer, but I felt that this painting, destined to be and be defined by its smoothness, would benefit from another glaze. No quicker was the brilliant glaze finished than it looked again unstarted. So it is with glazing. The painting looks rough, glazing makes it smooth, and at the end seems to look no better; an illusion, the smoothness and colour changes become homogenised in your eye's psyche. This is, so far, my most Mona Lisa of paintings. Prettier than any, smoother than any.

The Daisy and Kafka paintings (and now Benatar) are the only ones left to glaze, so new ideas are needed. But what? I have too many, each with different appeal, and crucially none appeal more than others. Prize-winning appeal is different from commercial sale appeal, and 'artistic' power, for for certain types of contemporary art prize, is often totally uncommercial, and may not win a prize either. Personal delight or personal solace in an idea is different too. Are we making a point, sending a message; or merely making something pretty, or interesting?

How To Paint Book, Banana Surprise Glazing, Love And Fragility Complete

Spent most of yesterday working on my 'How to Paint' book, which is already my biggest book in word-count and it doesn't feel so much as half written. There are many issues, chiefly the overall structure and adding more personality and verve over the dry technical points. It is ultimately a technical manual, but needs more than this, it needs to inspire more than inform. I realised, when writing, that this era of free and instant access to technically correct information makes personality and opinion much more important than mere fact. Perhaps this is why opinion is valued; it's the humanity among the dry data. The phenomenon of Populism is the worship of opinion over academic fact; perhaps this is why.

My painting has technically improved a lot this year, partly due to the analysis in this book. My own book has helped codify elements which were before esoteric.

Most of the today was too slow and too tired. I awoke after a long sleep of many dreams. It took hours to feel awake, and at 16:50, I still feel half dazed. Despite this I pushed on with painting and have glazed 'Beware Of The Banana Surprise', and then a glazing of the new ear and neckline of the male figure in 'Love And Fragility In The Age Of Perfection'. The neck and ear were, before this, poor in tone and finish but now almost stand out as the best part of the painting. If there is an error to correct the key steps are wait for everything to dry, then glaze with opaque underpainting colours, then re-glaze. This worked on The Starcrossed Escape too.

H Beam Piper Glazing 2, Art Filing, New Canvas Stretching Method

Second and final day of glazing the H Beam Piper portrait yesterday, but I'm unhappy with some aspects and will consider options. Much of the afternoon was spent re-organising my art catalogue, ensuring that I have an image filed correctly for as much as possible, and a shortcut image for everything that does have an image. A few artworks have no images, when I have the artwork and am able to add one, so I scanned and added a few of these. This is still the case for some artworks, mostly for sculptures and items I've filed as artworks, like my piano stand or router table, which aren't really artworks, but still need documenting, to learn from.

Backups today, and singing training. This afternoon, stretched a canvas with a new method.

These metal clamps grip the canvas lip at each opposite, then I pull the canvas taut with the Irwin bar clamp. The canvas is then held taut, so I staple each end. This is a very slow process, two opposite staples at a time, creeping from the canvas centre to the edge on alternating sides, but it's much better than the exhausting attempts at gripping this slippery canvas with pliers, and trying to staple with one hand while holding the tension with the other. This method also centres the tension correctly, as both sides are held taut before stapling.

One 24x34 inch canvas, the same size at the Mechanauts, has just taken me 90 minutes to stretch in this way, and it was still very tiring, as each clamp needed to be screwed (and released) very tightly, but the results are excellent, better than I've ever achieved before; and this method is more foolproof, a procedure that doesn't require trained skills or strength. With everything I do I think, how can I do it better? Only by asking this can things actually become better.

I have another canvas to stretch, but I'm out of 10mm staples, so must wait.

H Beam Piper Glazing Day 1, Replacement Cap For Blockx Oil Paints

Painting today. Day 1 of glazing the H Beam Piper Portrait. Hard to believe the underpainting was on 26th of April. I was looking forward to this glaze. It went well, although there are still several technical aspects of the painting I'm unhappy with, but will learn. He certainly has a 1950s look, and I keep being reminded of Tamara de Lempicka's chemist portrait.

Two of my Blockx oil paints have split caps so I decided to try and make a replacement using Polymorph. I heated up 2.43g and formed the transparent grains into a line, then dabbed them dry them before spiralling this hot snake around the cleaned tube thread, then formed the top into a 'T' shape. It seems to work, now cool I can see that the thread has been cast in this plastic. The shape is instantly better than the tops the oils come with.

I can't be sure if my caps are sufficiently air tight without a long wait. As an alternative, I clamped the split cap and filled its rim with hot-melt glue to effectively fix the old cap too. I rather prefer my new T-top design though, so will give this a try first.

Art Filing

Bah to a long day of feeling like I've hardly done a thing! Started by releasing War And Nuclear Love on Bandcamp.

Much of the work of the day was going through my full art catalogue to check that I have sample images of every artwork. I have a folder for each artwork which contains the full scan and all of the necessary materials used during creating it, but also a second folder with big thumbnails, images of every artwork for quick access. This doesn't have all of the artworks however, and there are a few, like colour variations or deleted works that weren't in my artwork spreadsheet either, so have done a lot of work today tidying and correcting this. This will ultimately, one day, assist in large scale batch conversion of my artwork; if this is ever needed.

The filing tasks are endless, but I must aspire to creating actual art.

Gallery Admin, Loneliness Of The Sun

A third hot and sleepless night. Spent a long morning documenting the 14 works delivered to the gallery yesterday, typing up long descriptions, filing these with the art, the updating the relevant website pages.

The visit inspired me to paint large, and I one idea is to enlarge some of the small paintings which have been proven to work. I rather like the recent 'Loneliness Of The Sun', and I thought that blowing it up to the same size as 'Imagining Happiness' would be ideal, as both works are similar; a simple mood with a monolith. I noted that Happiness is the same size as 'Triumph of the Mechanauts', 24x34 inches, and by chance I have stretchers ready for that size, so in the hot afternoon cut a canvas for that, and, by a happy coincidence of the width of canvas roll, cut a second piece for the other (large) stretcher I have (30x44). After that I'll have four large surfaces prepared and ready.

A scant few things done for a long day. I ache to charge into something more substantial. The heat is still sapping; 25.1 degrees in here as I write.

Art Writing, Painting Delivery

Spent most of yesterday writing and working on the unusually troublesome structure of my book on oil painting. I've sold quite a few books this month and year in print and audio. My book sales, and music plays and sales, have been steadily growing and this trend is continuing.

Today, Good Vibrations in the library, and a trip to the Oil Art Advisory to deliver four large paintings: 'Triumph Of The Mechanauts', 'Tiger Moving Nowhere At All', 'Imagining Happiness', 'Abandoning Someone Who Was A Friend To Me When I Had None'. They loved them all and have decided to immediately hang them. I've never felt so supported and enthused. I'm painting large again this year, primarily due to the influence of Zoe and Max, and will continue with greater ambition. I know that this year and next are years of power and growth.

Onwards we forge.

Record May Heat, Frame Gilding

Too hot to work, though I try. Went out this morning to join Deborah, and for most of the day read more painting research. Rehearsed one tune for Wednesday and packed and wrapped artwork for delivery, plus measuring and weighing it all.

Also applied artificial gold leaf to a frame which I've now sprayed twice. The spraying looks fine, but the frame is badly crackled with varnish and the paint is not adhering, just a slight knock can cause it to flake off. The gilding is poor, it looks ugly and would not adhere, and it's impossible to mask off for accuracy as masking tape will peel off the spray paint. This frame was intended for 'The Empty House', but it's too meagre and too poor for such a good quality painting, so I'll throw the frame away and make another. Of the frames I've restored or improved, two were failures and this is one, no bad loss as these were cheap charity shop frames. This one has served its purpose as inspiration for the painting. I'm now more able to make my own frames which loom substantially better than found ones, though of course there is a cost of materials for a custom frame.

Glazing The Blood Of Winter, The Works

Glazing 'The Blood Of Winter' this afternoon. I rarely enjoy glazing and never look forward to its chore. It always improves a painting but it feels like I've already done the bulk of the creativity. Here you can see the underpainting and glazed result, though you'll never appreciate the subtlety of the layering in a digital photo. The shadows are grey in the underpainting but have blues and greens in the glaze. The glazes are very thinly rubbed on, delicately affecting the colour. If glazing with the same colours, the result is simply smoothing the underpainting, not special. A principle is to glaze warm colours over cold and vice versa, but in general we're adding colour itself, new colours, more variation and more intensity than on the underpainting.

Half of the day was taken up with preparation of some watercolours for Knutsford and helping my father with his stamp collection. I listened to Queen's The Works for the first time today too, a good album. I must aim to write my songs more with Freddie's voice in mind as it's a range that works for me. In the past I've been too limited, I was growing in voice and still very much am. The songs which use these higher notes sound better now, or will sound better if and when I re-record them.

One of my early songs, inspired by Queen's 'We Are The Champions' and from 2003, is called 'I Won In The End'. It feels too self-triumphal to sing, too reminiscent of 'Tomorrow Belongs To Me' from Cabaret. Last night I thought that it could be simply changed to 'You Won In The End', making it instead a tribute song.

Writing Oil Painting From Beginning To Master And Beyond

Decided and managed to paint an underpainting yesterday, the speed and joy of working on a small painting. The idea, The Loneliness Of The Sun, was from a few years ago. Perhaps I should have painted today, I have 'The Blood Of Winter' and the 'H Beam Piper' paintings to glaze, but I didn't remotely feel like it.

Instead, I read more of Max Doerner's book and started the big job of reordering and writing my own book on oil painting, provisionally entitled Oil Painting From Beginning To Master And Beyond. Already at 45,000 words, although this draft is very haphazard. The 2025 draft covered everything in a tree-like structure, but I want to rewrite and re-organise it all. I must make it more personal and more entertaining, warmer, but still contain as much as I can about the crafts and skills I've learned.

Frames Spraying, Singing

Sprayed some frames first thing as I was unhappy with the violet look of the 'Hope and Death' frame. Looks much better now.

Then singing practice for the first time in a few weeks. How good it feels, and how much better at singing I am now than before, than ever before. Listening back to tracks from Secret Electric Sorcery, from a mere 4 years ago, fills me with shame and horror at how bad my vocals sound compared to my abilities today. This is a good thing of course, we should be improving over time. I know and always knew that this vocal phase of my music, from around 2019 or so, was one of growth and study, but this means that, over the many albums of this era, I'm rarely happy enough with the results to promote or share them.

This fills me with energy and optimism. I know I can do so much better now, so am as eager as ever to improve the many older works, the long process of re-recording. Some albums which have already been re-recorded once, like Burn Of God, could also sound much better today - though I must hope and assume that I'll feel the same in 5 years about today's albums (assuming my life circumstances are broadly the same, which is in doubt).

Painting holds less appeal for me because my improvements in painting, though there is certainly some, is not as powerful as the improvements I've been making in music, singing and mixing. It can be harder to find challenges, to see the taller mountain when we reach the peak of each smaller one. The tallest of mountains in all things should be our goal, and once attained, taller mountains must be located. This challenge is my principle fire.

Art Photography, RBSA Summer Show

Today, photographed 'The Empty House' and 'Can There Be A Refuge From The Terror?'. The process takes a few hours, setting up my lighting rig, the photography flat-bed, tripods, 15mm tubes for the camera rig etc. Glad to get it over with. Heard that I've not got a painting into the RBSA Summer Show. 900 works submitted, 200 selected, so it's not easy to be selected on a purely statistical basis. I used to enter the RBSA regularly. Of my last attempts, 2 in 2019 and 2 in 2018, nothing was selected. Prior to that, my last entry was in 2014 at which I was selected and 'commended', and before that I tended to always have something selected. I suspect that there are more artists now, and that the choice of entries each time is more random than any other factor - those who are selected now are just as likely to not be selected next time.

I'm disappointed by this, but not hugely so as the work to reframe Descartes and the cost of the trip is considerable. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect is that 'Self Inspection At Theresienstadt' is, I think, a brilliant work that is as relevant now as ever, relevant and important on many levels, and yet it's been rejected from three different competitions. It's also an excellent painting on a technical level.

Daisy Underpainting Complete

Second day of underpainting the daisy painting. I've started to like to add elements whole painting, beyond the plan. In this case The pièce de résistance was adding a glimpse of van Gogh's 'Wheat Field With Crows' (with a hint of a face) at the base. This is actually in mars violet, red not purple.

It made me think of a maxim: Paint every painting as though it were your last!

I didn't enjoy painting today, it was a chore. I listened to Queen's The Game and A Kind Of Magic as I painted, a slight contrast to yesterday's 1st and 3rd Brahms' Symphonies. The grass greens match Wyeth's well, all with Harding Naples (Titanium Antinomy Chromium Oxide - the top has cracked, a mark of this generally shoddy quality brand; this colour is excellent however, certainly better than Winsor and Newton's version - if only Blockx made it!), black, white, and a hint of chromium oxide via the lovely Blockx Lamoriniere Green, which is certainly more beautiful than any other chromium oxide I've found.

After painting, dashed to Tesco and back at a speed of about 5 miles per hour, which Google commends as a good run for a beginner (I walked). Then photographing some pages of my father's stamp collection.

Daisy Underpainting Day 1

First day of underpainting 'The Earthly Concerns Of A Telepathic Daisy'. The day started with two small disasters; the vertical for the day/night division was accidentally missing from the underpainting, and the Polymorph head for my resting (maul-like) stick snapped as if brittle - this the first time that Polymorph has ever broken, it's really a super-plastic. These small mistakes were bypassed.

This is my first big canvas work in years, since 'Revelation' in 2017, and before that 'The Cusp of Love and Hatred' in 2015. I'm out of practice with larger works, but there's little difference in technique when working larger. The brushes are scaled up; I don't have too many large brushes. Today's size 12 hog from 'Art Discount' worked well. I find that bigger brushes can be too long, and thus too floppy. Ideally the hairs would be a thicker and stiffer too, just like a small brush scaled up, but this is not the case.

Another difference is the amount of paint, judging this can be difficult, and the larger amount of mess. A good degree of the skill of oil painting is learning to stay clean and keep things neat; this is harder when working with more paint. Finally, the surface is different. I love working with all surfaces. This 'Top Gun' canvas has great tooth, but is not at all absorbent; both good attributes. I tend to have to put more paint on than most surfaces, the canvas pits seem to require filling, so much more paint is used, but the result looks better and is easier to blend and modify; an overall more resilient result.

In progress, 82x82cm.

Humdrum Jobs, Spotify Streams

Packed works for exhibitions over the weekend. Today, an eye test and taking stock of works in progress. Scanned two more finished works, with two more to photograph this week in preparation for future competitions. I feel exhausted often, but perhaps this is due to lack of charging into a big project; I relish challenges and tight deadlines. There is much to do this year in programming and music, but the paintings in progress need to dry a little between layers. There is always more to do if I seek it, but choosing which is the best use of my limited time is never easy.

I noted today that The Myth Of Sisyphus has had a few Spotify streams, my first of 40 or more albums to have any. This is probably because I've promoted this album a bit on social media. I've never tried this before, even now it's very time consuming. I'll continue with future releases. In actuality the boost to my listenership is a very gradual climb over years rather than a rapid and recent one. At this rate it would still take centuries for me to have a hit, yet there is a quantum-leap factor here; energy builds up in silence then leaps up rapidly. As Fall in Green we've also had a few listens too, particularly the recent album.

Kafka: The Even Sadder Half Of His Double Face Underpainting

Today, underpainted 'Kafka: The Even Sadder Half Of His Double Face'. Took from 09:00 to 20:00, but it felt good to complete in one day. The painting is rather segmented into shaded sections, a slightly cubist. This, plus the earthy greens and browns certainly give the painting a look of something from the 1910s; all good.

Dr Who's Robot, God Being Killed Frame Refurbishment

Watched the Dr Who episode 'Robot' last night. I can't remember ever seeing it (I remember seeing a few Fourth Doctor episodes as a child). While watching I remembered an ancient memory of going to a Dr Who exhibition in Blackpool as a child, seeing the robot in real life, and a grey Dalek with black spots.

Awake most of the night. During fragments of sleep I became the Fourth Doctor. In my dreams I'm often Doctor Who, and when so, I am usually Tom Baker's incarnation. I dreamt of lying in my bed as him, my room in the same arrangement but decorated differently, lined with crude red bricks like a bunker or cellar, the bed made from simple planks. I found this disturbing and I woke twice like this before sleeping  and becoming the Third Doctor. This time the room was the same orientation, but with different decoration, more baroque and fitting to Jon Pertwee's incarnation.

I slept an hour, perhaps two all night, so was too tired to paint today. I had hoped to paint the Daisy painting. Instead I painted a colour study for the Kafka painting, and painted the edges of the Assassinated Strawberry (so, this canvas board can now be hung on the wall directly). Then repainted the original gold frame for the first (and probably only ever) God Being Killed print, which I aim to exhibit in Cotebrook Village Hall on the 6th and 7th June. It will be for sale for £300.

Don't Talk Framing, Art Prizes

The days has flown. Started with software updates, then framed 'Don't Talk To Me About Love'. Photographed the framed work and the underdrawing to the Franz Kafka portrait, then prepared the panel for that and traced it over. Then printed two smaller copies of the underdrawing: one primed on a panel for a painted study, one on paper for a pencil study. So much work, and for what but hope... hope of what? To create something better than before. I can certainly paint better than before. I was reminded of this today while refreshing 'Sun Set Free' from 2014 in preparation of its showing in Bickerton this year. 12 years ago, yet seems so recent; I'm definitely a better painter now. What use is this skill?

This year I may enter 15 competitions and open exhibitions, more than ever I think. These then are an incentive to paint. Even I were to win them all I'd not make much money, even top prizes in art are small. The prizes have not increased since I started painting in 2007/8/9. Painting prices too are around the same, and many open exhibitions award no prizes. When I started most did; and commendations, most had some awards of merit. This still happens, but it's a relative rarity now.

Truth In Art

There are things that are true that feel true, there are things that are true which don't feel true, and there are things that aren't true that feel true. The most compelling art portrays that which is untrue but which feels true, but such art is transient and superficial. It is the true things that are the most powerful, and perhaps the things which don't feel true the most so.

Art Motivations, Kafka Drawn

A slow day. Perhaps I'm painting too many works. Works are useful for entering into open competitions, exhibitions to showcase my work, to promote myself as an artist and my art on sale elsewhere. There are only so many competitions, however. I can paint works for sale directly, although I have many existing brilliant works that can stock an art shop. It's also good to be painting for self-improvement, skill improvement, and to embody being a painter. To have works on exhibition and for sale, yet be working on music or books may send a wrong message, and time, skills, the sunlight is limited. I can't paint in winter, the iron is hot for striking. This is a rare year where my painting is getting attention and support. I should make the most of this.

I've never need 'inspiration', to wait for an idea. If I need an idea I have 100 to hand, so this isn't a factor. I could paint forever, for as long as I have health, food, shelter, and art supplies.

At times I feel that I've created a lot, many games, many books, many music albums, many paintings, and yet, so far, nothing has yet been successful. Nothing popular, profitable. Some things are more popular than others, this is true, but nothing that is a 'hit', yet. Perhaps my work isn't promoted enough. I am naturally solitary, not a promoter. I know that I've made some good works, things I'm proud of, and things I dislike or know that I can do better. Critics or others can like or dislike anything. The judges in competitions are wrong to not show the works that I love and know are brilliant. As a judge myself once or twice, I know how haphazard this process is.

I remind myself that many great artists of the past faced the same problem. Almost every artist considered great long after their lifetime, Vermeer, William Blake, Van Gogh, countless many, were ignored in their lifetime and revered years later. Lack of success can be, with this hindsight, a sign of success - because it's happened so often to so many brilliant artists.

Small jobs done today. First, listening to the radio about Otto Dix, one of my favourite painters. His works lack accurate perspective, a cubist-like look of different surfaces, one which shows what's important to make the point and nothing more. A rare disunity of perspective. Excellent colouration. I re-absorbed some of his paintings.

The small canvas offcut I tried to stretch the other day was today glued to a 6mm piece of MDF which by coincidence was exactly the right size, making a large panel of about 61x86cm, an ideal size for an epic centrepiece of a wall. This is glued using PVA, section by small section, unrolling with glue applied. Trying to stick it in one instant would create air bubbles, and the glue dries too quickly for this anyway. All good.

I had hoped to paint another layer on 'Love And Fragility', but I think it's too soon since the last layer, so went for a fast walk instead. After that, marked the paper and drew out most of the Franz Kafka portrait.

Earthly Concerns Of A Telepathic Daisy Oil Tracing

Today, toned the large canvas for 'The Earthly Concerns Of A Telepathic Daisy' with a fine wash of acrylic colour, my imprimatura. Then transferred over the basic drawing.

For this plastic canvas, and other surfaces which resist tracing like acrylic plastic or metal panels, I use oil paint and Polydraw polyester drafting film. For the first stage of any tracing I'd normally use a 0.5mm Uni Pin pen, but for this I used a normal automatic pencil because I wanted to be able to erase the lines. Then, flip the sheet and paint over the lines with a mix of raw umber and titanium white without any zinc. The paint is scrubbed very thinly, as thinly as can be painted. Then the sheet is flipped again and taped to the canvas, and a fine-tipped embossing scribe (like a sharp point with a tiny pin-head-ball tip) is used to trace over the lines. The result is a perfect transfer of the drawing in oil. I have used this technique in a painting itself, as it's a great way to 'paint' ultra-thin lines. It's more difficult when the target surface is full of wet paint, of course.

The drawing above is 80x80cm. Of course, once transferred the drawing will take a few days to dry, so I can't paint immediately (unless I want to include those outlines; I could theoretically trace over different colours for different parts of the painting, or even shade parts).

After the transfer is done, I wipe the paint off the Polydraw and erase the pencil lines, as this material is expensive and tough enough to be reused. The lines remain visible, embossed. The sheet is very slightly distorted, and it's also impossible to wipe the paint perfectly away, so this used sheet is not perfect, but this beautiful material can at least be reused once or twice.

Gloves, Benatar, Canvas

A stressful and dramatic yesterday due to family issues. In a strange analogue of the drama, my mother accidentally took my brand new £120 designer German black leather gloves (a Christmas gift only recently cashed in) to a charity shop after she found them apparently discarded on the table. I still don't understand why she would do such a thing. I'd only worn them once! It's so rare for me to find any gloves that fit. These were a one-off, irriplacable.

In work, completed the second Pat Benatar panel underpainting, then attended the Hopes & Beams Literature Open Mic. Today stretched the large canvas for the Daisy painting, and did many other little jobs including listing paintings by frame, attending to my phone contact, updating my will, recycling a pile of ancient phones.

There was a 66x92cm offcut of canvas after the Daisy segment was cut, so I decided to try and stretch this on a 60x86cm stretcher. Not easy, I really need it to be at least 10cm bigger not 6cm. After an hour of work, the result is so-nearly acceptable, yet not quite. Too wrinkled, too imperfect. Such a shame, as I may never stretch a smaller canvas, so using this large offcut will be difficult. I'll have to dismantle the whole thing.

Now exhausted physically and emotionally. Next job, to tone the surface for the Daisy painting and transfer the drawing.

Canvas Preparations, Pat Benanatar Banana Underpainting

Yesterday evening I cut a section of canvas and assembled the stretcher bars for the Daisy painting. I bought 10M of canvas in 2011 for £165.54, and another 10M (knowing how great this 'Top Gun' material is) in 2015 for £200.28. Now the same canvas costs £300. Top Gun is 100% polyester and is wonderful for painting, far superior to cotton or linen.

One downside to Top Gun is that it can't easily be drawn on, so I use oil paint on tracing paper to transfer the drawing, except that I don't now use actual tracing paper for large paintings like this because it wrinkles like crazy, it is very hygroscopic, and those wrinkles distort a large image more and more. I use polyester drafting film, which does the same job without wrinkling, and is so strong its unrippable (it would probably make a good painting surface itself). It is 4 or 5 times the (already expensive) cost of tracing paper; 10M of polyester drafting film was £69 when I bought it in 2012, now it's £190. This time I hope to re-use it. It should be easy to wipe down after use, but of course, I could only re-use it comfortably if it is for a painting of the same size. Making paintings all an identical size would be far cheaper and efficient, but much less artful. Each idea seems to demand a certain size and shape.

I haven't stretched the canvas, but it is cut and waiting. After that, a sleepless night, probably due to the first sweet thing I ate last evening after my dental operation. It mead me realise how not eating deserts is perhaps always the best option for health.

A steady day today, underpainted the first of the two little panels now known as the Pat Benanatar series, this 'Beware of the Banana Surprise':

An odd painting in many ways, and it looks even odder now. I rarely paint with violets as there are no opaque ones. Here I used cobalt blue and manganese violet, which are semi-transparent, but opaque enough in grey. The face isn't trying to be realistic but stylistic, cartoon-like. The figure had a few problems, partly because it was realistically proportioned. Sometimes, false proportions look better on little figures, fatter arms, stockier build; but also the pose was too simple, too stable, so I modified it into a startled run. The whole painting looks strange to me, even though it matches the plan. Of course, all of the colours can be changed at whim when glazing.

Another £85 of oil paints arrived today, 7 tubes. I have enough paints for many years now, unless I start to paint larger or in impasto. Tomorrow, I'll probably underpaint the other painting of this pair, 'Sisyphus Rolling A Coconut Dangerously Towards To The Critical Mass Of Pat Benatar'.

Colour Studies, Bigger Telepathic Daisy

Three colour studies painted today, for the two Pat Benatar paintings and the Telepathic Daisy painting. These are so useful, and were especially so today. The colours for the Benatar portrait in particular were complex, as her dark clothing required a dark coconut on top, plus many flesh options.

The Telepathic Daisy painting was originally 30cm square, then made a little bigger at 40cm, but I liked the idea more and more while painting the colour study and have decided to double the size to 80cm, the same at the Abandoning a Friend painting, and the Self Portrait as Philosopher. I have some 32in stretcher bars, so this works. This will be my largest painting in a decade, since Revelation. The afternoon was spent working on this much larger drawing. The little Wyeth houses now have (or can have) much more detail. The only element that has moved slightly is the disturbing object on the washing line, which is more obviously out of place on the bigger scale. A small painting blown up always works compositionally.

It's largely done, but there is a lot more preparation work of the canvas, stretching and preparation, and tracing over the drawing using oil paint. The brilliant polyester canvas I use is waxy and does not accept pencil.

Panels, Silver Diver

A slow day, wanted to take the day a bit easier. Toned the panels and traced over the drawings for the Pat Benatar paintings. Then got to work repairing a sculpture which Paul gave us a few years ago. It was bought second hand, and pardon the pun that it was sold without a right hand. It had broken off in its earlier life. I decided to model a new one.

First I filled the arm hole with Sculptamold, a mix of plaster and paper fragments which is a wonderful material to use. Its only downside is that it has a rough, oat-porridge-like texture, it can't be perfectly smoothed. As a gap filler it's wonderful, and it's very tactile and easy to model with. Then, modelled a hand from grey Milliput. I remember buying a pile of it cheaply, but it's rubbish stuff. The only good Milliput is the fine white, and even that isn't very good. Milliput is often flaky and dry, and a nightmare to mix. It remains flaky and stiff, and can crack and behave in generally horrible ways when using it. It sticks to everything , except itself, and stains everything badly, so it ruins gloves and tools, while falling off the sculpture that it is supposed to grip. I may throw away the lot I have.

Air-dry water-based clay is a little easier to handle but shrinks badly. This doesn't stick to itself (and will fall apart when dry) and has far too many other flaws to be useful professionally - but I use it for lighting models because it is cheap. Oil plasticine (or other oil-based clays) are by far the best thing to model with, but they don't dry. I'd love an oil-based clay which dries very slowly like oil paint. Perhaps a mix of clay, a linseed oil (stand oil?) and a resin, like Laropal A81 in some solvent, might make an interesting material. Would Laropal alone make a clay? It may be too sticky, and this would set by evaporation so may also shrink.

Anyway, the hand was modelled over a few hours to an adequate degree.

It's impossible to match the mirror silver finish, so I've painted it with oil size mixed with mars black, then applied artificial silver leaf. This gives a wrinkled, tin-foil type of finish, but may look better when all dry and cleaned up. While working on it, I pressed too hard and the hand came off (proof that Milliput doesn't stick well, it's also rather weak as a material; almost every other epoxy clay I've tried has been smoother, stronger, and stickier). I glued the hand back with viscous superglue. Now it's all drying.

Banana Pat Benatar Sisyphus, Philosophy of Drawing

A somewhat slow day. I've developed the ideas for the paintings for the two small frames I bought last Wednesday. I'm unsure if they are good ideas or not, or, if good, are worthy of larger compositions, and if not are worth painting at all. The eternal choices. My original vision was a pair, this pair, and the aim was to develop them for the two new frames. I still need ideas for them - if the ideas become 'too good' and so worthy of larger frames, that process could continue forever! So I'll stick to the original plan. If an idea is good, it is good at every scale. Small means, at least, faster work, and the small panel completed yesterday (a similar size to today's ideas) is beautiful and no worse for its size.

So, an hour or two drawing out the paintings, and this evening sawing two panels, as the small size would suit a smooth panel better than canvas. The portrait of Pat Benatar is tricky due to the flat lighting in the photo. Painting from a photograph is no easier than painting from life, and when harder it is because details one knows are there (like the edge of a nose...) are invisible. In this case, the eyes, nose, and lips float in white space, making placement of these features triply difficult.

Andy Warhol would trace this, but the aim of painting a portrait isn't to duplicate a likeness, just as the aim of singing isn't to hit each note for the correct duration - the aim is expressiveness. An artist like Bryan Ferry or David Bowie is great due to expressiveness, not technical accuracy. Freddie Mercury was highly accurate in pitch and timing, yet (even setting aside his brilliance at composition and piano playing) it was his expressiveness which made him a star singer. The same is true in drawing, which is why it must be done by hand.

I feel I should have done more today but have felt tired and lazy at times.

Love And Fragility, Don't Talk To Me Glazing

My mouth seems to be healing correctly. I must hope that it does so. I can't wait to be able to eat and clean my mouth normally.

Painted today, the final bit of glazing Love and Fragility, then later the glazing layer to 'Don't Talk To Me About Love'.

I added more to Love and Fragility. The smoothness of some areas made them a little too flat and boring. I referred to the idea sketch and tried to move the painting towards its mood, I think I did.

I'm no longer a surrealist, although I was this only rarely. At first I'd design paintings carefully, then at some point developed instant unconscious ideas as sketches. These were and remain the root of my paintings. At some point I aimed to stick to those ideas explicitly, as in 'Malformed Phoenix Embryo' for example, which was the idea sketch blown up and nothing more. In a way, this is the pure expression of surrealism, that unconscious idea without consideration or filtering.

I don't do this now, but compose paintings carefully with thought, in the same way as I compose poetry and music. This is because creating 'any old thing' as instantly as you think it is too easy; it especially makes bad poems. In painting, there is the skill of execution, but it's still easy compared to a well planned artwork. Now, my paintings are crafted, with visual themes or other symbols or elements, each carefully considered. This takes longer, but hopefully produces better works. The new H Beam Piper painting, and 'The Howl Quakes The Empty House', are better for having been thought of and considered over several days, and I've done this with Love and Fragility too. After pre-planning paintings for years I'm now adding elements and making adjustments as I paint, and today I did this.

There is a balance of smoothness and detail, and I think the male face in that painting would technically benefit from another layer. The source image was/is so poor that it defies an ideal. It may suffice.

'Don't Talk To Me About Love' is definitely prettier after a second layer, a work on smooth panel really benefits from layers.

Apart from smoothing and enhancement to elements like the sea, I've changed the second cross a little to look more dagger-like, as this was ambiguous in the idea sketch.