The Gilded Hubbub

Loved Simon Reynold’s Rip it up and Start Again. Putting this selection in the bookshop window is guaranteed to get me spending money I don’t have.

586 - PCAL FACT 75

There was a place I used to go, a sort of Sunday alone place. I’d walk among still friends, stop and draw quietly with the marble. That point where you cease to be a visitor to the gallery, and the gallery becomes your home. And every face there is known. (The Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool)

“I have this feeling that all it will take will be one moment, even a tiny moment, provided it’s the correct one. Like a cord suddenly snapping and a thick curtain dropping to the floor to reveal a whole new world, a world full of sunlight and warmth.”

The Burial of the Sardine by Goya. The first painting I transcribed and from which I learnt so much about composition. How ominous the mortus banner is, drawing to it the gaily dancing women and blank crowd.

Adorno

How many times must I convene at 3.00 AM alone. If you are an insomniac and you share a life and a bed with someone you love, the only thing worse than staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, is waking them so they can share your fate. Much better to make a cup of tea, read a book and wait for the next day to begin.

A sketchbook is like a best friend, they go everywhere with you, share everything with you and years later when you flick through their battered pages they remind you of all the great ideas you had.

When nature tells you that the world should be pinker and promptly scatters its blossom to prove it.

Error is the artist’s friend. I tried to paint what I knew, but thankfully I could still make mistakes, and managed to paint what I didn’t. (Painting by Karel Appel)

A friend asked me to describe my fantasy, and I immediately thought of you with coffee in your hand, sitting with me in my studio. The light was dazzling and the breeze from the open door brought with it the sounds of summer, children playing and the background buzz of sedantry heat. You fingers curled around your mug, smiling as you talked intently, and I hoped you’d never leave. And then one day you did.

I never feel more alone than when I’m surrounded by the words and ideas of others. For those of us who seek such solitude, bookshops become a place of sanctuary.

Only love interests me, and I am only in contact with things that revolve around love. (Marc Chagall)

To see the world otherwise is at the heart of every human being; life is only important when it is otherwise than it is. Love being the least realistic and yet the most important thing we may ever know. (Self Portrait of Helen Lundenberg)