An OldfartArtist's blogspot: Waiting, waiting, waiting

Monday saw me join 7 other Fine Art students for a 'group crit'. We wandered around each other's studio spaces alternatively supporting and criticising each other's work. I was the final student of the 8. By then I felt so crushed by the skills of my fellow students that if I had had a match in my pocket I would have set fire to my space to save myself the embarrassment of public scrutiny! The gods know how I will cope with full public inspection and comments next year! As it happens, my fellow artists were very, very kind, I think they took pity on me, and I shall be chasing some of them up for further tips and advice later in the year!

Tuesday found the Farmer and me inspecting the brown cocker closely, and deciding not to go too far from home for the next few days. More news about her in a later blog.

And on Wednesday: I delivered my Art Workshop to a lovely bunch of 10 and 11 year olds for the first time! I had sooooo much gear I couldn't carry it all. We discussed potraiture, they produced some wonderful artistic interpretations, and then, I read The Jumblies by Edward Lear to them to close the session. It was a joy. Returning next week for more of the same. Excited already.

Thursday and Friday have found me missing college, and sitting at home, mostly looking at the brown dog. Also, in momentary lapses of concentration, banging words into the laptop in some sort of order for my 'big 2nd year' essay about masturbation in performance art. Its coming together nicely. And, additionally, the more research I do into this quite tricky subject, the less alarming it seems as a performance. I emailed a young artist who 'did it' in 2004 whilst he was still at college, and bless his cotton socks, he emailed back within half an hour to give me a little bit of first hand info on why and how etc! My hero.

So, the weekend starts here. Dining with ladies tonight, though hoping for an emergency call home vis-a-vis the brown dog. An invitation to a wonderful firework event tomorrow evening hangs in the balance vis-a-vis the brown dog, and Sunday should find us meeting up with our baby boy and the lovely D in Lincoln, where he is taking his team of novice rowers for their first competitive outing. Unless, of course, the brown dog prevents that too. Ho hum. Fingers crossed one way and another.