still life

This week in the studio I have been back to the drawing board…. observational meditations on familiar objects around me.

paint brushes, rags, paper…….

I spend a lot of time using these objects, yet take them for granted, so I enjoyed looking and giving them attention.


brushes and paper. Pencil on paper
brushes in glass. Pencil on paper

seed thought

I’ve been mostly working in the bath today.

In doing so I’ve been thinking about how images and words rise.   The ideas that are the most meaningful for me as an artist are usually the ones that come when I’m relaxed, immersed or bathing in something… a warm bath or sleep.

I like the idea of holding the first thought, this is what the yogi’s call the seed thought.  It’s the primal thought that rises from the unconscious (or where ever it comes from!) Before the intellect gets to work, fragments it and chews it up into pieces.



I’ve been in the studio this week sticking and pasting using newspaper.  I’m making a banner (of a kind) with the poem I wrote earlier in the month.  I’ve completed all the words which makes it about 14 foot long…..

Seed poem detail
Seed poem detail
Seed poem detail

winter january

I’ve been making a new website over the last few weeks, it is getting there structurally,  still more content to add.  I’ve been doing some writing too…… I’m working on some pieces based on a poem ‘Seed’  (see below) which is inspired by winter.

waiting, still, in the dark


waiting, still, in the dark





start from the bottom,

deep in the earth,  where it is dark and quiet.

Waiting  still

in the dark.

A sigh

and a wiggle of the toes

but still

in the dark.


for sounds that may

or may not grow

into a symphony….perhaps.

Still, in the dark,

Winter cold eats into toes,   that feel the deep dark soil

that catches between them, like sand on a beach

scratching a sound in the dark.

waiting still, in the dark,

Asleep in the comfort of velvet soil

warm and soft where the wood sap seeps.

Why would any seed want to grow?

But as growing


swelling, resting, resting, resting, gaining, moving, pushing,

call it what you will…

Moving through and up and out

What could stop it?

Still in the dark


When comfort’s seen

it slaps the face

like an old wet fish

and anger roars from its slumber

thrashing and howling like a small child that doesn’t know what anger is.

And so words

grow like body or mind, out of the ground and from that darkness into