1152 Artman Report

Sometimes what I do is circular. This is the 149th MySpace published writing, commenced at 10.30, Wednesday 22nd August 2007,on a morning when I amputating my 101 project records. I have completed a printed 4 set volume of creative work numbers 5462-5465. It also contains two Artman glitter cards, the first written in freehand green and silver glitter and second in gold and red glitter, and two signature card signed Artman in black crayon which includes the numbers of each card in sets 131065 113060 and the numbers of the Artman glitter cards 108363 108365 and of the signature cards 108364 10836 of set 4515, also classified as a creative set. Technically only the glitter cards should be described as creative and the signature cards record cards but in the beginning I decided against because I was being lazy and therefore it is something that has to be lived with.

I have also photographed the volume one page at a time, although some volumes I also photograph two pages because the this interests and also establishes that the written or visual material exists in addition to the record of the writing on a computer and a computer disk, and in the instance of this work, on My Space, retrievable by me as long as I keep the My Space account and it keep me, and technically I assume in the master Myspace database unless all individual records are deleted if an account is ended.

I have also entered the record of the last two completed the sets in a chronological list 6570 6571 as the others were previously entered thus making 157704 cards officially registered although I have over 30 volumes some from one set volumes others of eight sets to be checked and registered and photographed of completed sets of work which rise from the floor onto a settee. Some of these volumes or where the Artman glitter cards or registration signatures also need to be created. The glitter cards can be created while I watch television, usually I am bored after twenty and I only have surface space for that number o dry in this room, and by the evening after a meal I am sufficiently tired not to make the journey into the front room, cannot be called a living room, because I use it rarely at the moment other than to clean, or get a bottle of wine, check on literature work from the library shelving, a DVD, to view on the wide 32in wide screen TV now in my ground floor work room. The front room also houses two thirds of the video collection and I cannot remembered the last occasion I viewed material although the intention is to transfer to DVD someday. The audio unit including vinyl record player is also next door, in theory I will listen to my music or use the music as a background to reading although this is also rare, because both activities should be undertaken separately.

Tonight it is a friendly football match between England and Germany and the BBC has again risked wrath by adding some laughter when it advertises that it showing the match, trying to generate an audience obviously having paid a substantial some to show the match in competition with other media and forgetting that in pubs across the land, the National Front and other right wing groups will assemble and use the occasion to display the worst kinds of nationalistic and threatening racist behaviour, and which will spill over into physical violence at any opportunity, especially if England lose. Oh some may say, if this is read by anyone how do you know? I have witnessed this myself, the last instance was at a public house at Waddon near Croydon where a charming young man explained to the Black barman that they would wreck the place if England lost. This was not banter, or boastful I intimidation. We all knew it was meant, that is the ladies who disappeared first with their partners because of vile references to their bodily parts, and the rest of us who decided to leave at half time, giving sympathetic glances to the barman and each other as we retreated while the yobs were at the bar to refreshing themselves for what was to come.

Working in was not my original intention as I hoped the weather would have brightened up to undertake the next stage of the two rivers walk, which covers the cliff promenade and suntrap sunbathing areas between the Seaburn and Roker beaches which includes a gap between the cliff over which there is the road, but under which there is pathway into a park which has been upgraded back to its Victorian splendour. It is brightening but having started I will do some 101 work, make myself a cheese or salami omelette followed by a banana or some plum visiting my mother between 2 and 6 and return for the evening meal and the match. Whoops I need to iron the three nightdresses washed and dried last night, next before the food. Tomorrow a walk is also out unless I get up early and the weather is suitable because I have been asked to meet with the consultant at noon, and in the evening I want to go to the pictures, to experience the third Bourne trilogy film, at least I assume it is a trilogy, and where through the kind benevolence of ITV the first two films were shown on Sunday and last night, repeated on another of their channels on Monday and tonight. An first of all to check emails and myspace and the post.

Great my internet post DVD club has sent Jamon Jamon, the 1992 film directed by Bigas Luna and starring Penelope Cruz, together with the Francois Ozon film Time to leave with Jeanne Moreau, both of which I know nothing about, more internet checking, but before or after? Hospital has telephoned to confirm I will be at the round doctors round tomorrow. New debit card arrived to replace one which expires in a week's time.

12.15. There was another of those infuriating annual discussion about the cost of school uniforms and the requirement to wear them. The BBC sees its role in these programme to present as wide a viewpoint as possible within the permitted framework of free speech without coming to any conclusions irrespective of the evidence presented or the logic of a particular argument. As a consequences it sometimes misses out on fundamental points. Earlier in the week or even last week a woman became very upset when others did not share her passionate argument that children should have the nurturing of their mother in the earliest of years, but nobody was on hand to explain to her that she was right, but only to a degree because it so much depends on the mother and her social, educational, cultural and economic circumstances. If she loves her child, recognising it is a young person, is comfortable being a full time mother and wife, and is able to prepare her child for school and for living in society then great, but how many young first time mothers are equipped to do this? An what effect will this have on the child if she not? It is a sad truth that the more poor in every respect the mother, the greater the child will benefit from mixing with children from different backgrounds and being ion contact with adults who have some insight and experience of good mothering. The converse is also sadly true that the stronger the background of the mother the greater is the ability of the child to function in whatever environment it is placed. Where is some circumstances the mother has died, departed or made herself unavailable a substitute mother is preferable and then a natural or substitute father figure. There is no absolute position and in every situation the issue depending on the circumstances and background of those with the primary responsibility for the upbringing of the child.

12.45 This morning the subject of school uniforms also had its infuriating moments. I agreed with those who argued that a school uniform was a social leveller in so far that within school the worst aspects of children's clothes wear can be avoided from inappropriate clothing to the showing off wealth and following of fashion which should be regarded by all sensible and caring people as one of the deadliest of sins and a guarantee of moving into the anti room of hell rather than heaven. We hen had the extraordinary situation of a male head of department arguing that children who wore uniforms correctly had better examination results than those who did not. If correct no one was on hand to explain that this meant we had the wrong examination system because it was measuring conformity and not originality and creativity. As a nation , it is true we once needed conforming masses who would be comfortable in the future roles working in heavy industry and manufacturing, or undertaking routine clerical work which can now be undertaken on a computer as part of other more interesting functions. This is not longer the situation and in order for the nation to survive we need an increasing number of creative, imaginative, energetic, inventive individualists, even to undertaking comparatively simple and lowly paid work such that being a waiter in a restaurant or serving behind a bar The establishment has to attract people to leave their homes from where the same food and drink can be provided at a quarter of the cost, and where those who make can continue to do so. This is also true for those who spend most of their day and night cleaning the bottoms of the old and disabled and ensuring that they are appropriately fed and clothed. The least suitable person is someone without imagination and creativity who cannot see every resident as the person they have been or someone they are likely to become. Unfortunately some schools do have teachers, even heads, who are the kind of adults who prepared their young men to go off and be slaughtered in their millions without being able to question if what they were doing is justified. This of course is what happens in totalitarian regimes of the extreme political right and left. What attracted me to Jesus Christ was his subversive tendencies.

1.20 I had my daily fix of profit predicting from antiques, a daily reminder that as with stocks and shares the only people to make a regular profit are the dealers. There is one expert who always qualifies the estimate or sale figure by saying there is a little bit of commission to take off hohoho. I hate to think what his definition of a big bit is. There are the occasional amazing tales of luck something bought in a car boot sale for coppers which is then sold for hundreds and even thousands of pounds, but the odds are no different from the national lottery or bring murdered by a stranger who is in their teens. Later while watching subtitled TV with my mother there was a programme where someone brought a Moorcroft Vase to a dealer who offered cash which is not accepted would go to auction. The person was foolish enough to tell the dealer that he had been offered £75 which he did not consider acceptable. The dealer offered £100 adding that at the auction there would be commission to pay. I have watched sufficient of these programmes to know that the Moorcroft vase usually makes over £200. By coincidence in a separate programme a pair of Moorcrofts, similar but not matching fetched over £600.

10.30pm I did a good pre holiday weekend shop after the hospital visit with on naughty naughty. Two choux chocolate topped fresh cream filled buns, eaten after a meal of two pork chops, steamed unfrozen vegetable and a bowl of cherries after red wine and peanuts, followed by a can of coke. This proved to be suitable preparation for the match which commenced with a good disaster in that I went to sleep for just over nine minutes after kick off thus missing the opening English goal. I then saw our goal keeper make the mistake which is likely to cost his international career and a first cap back (i.e. not a forward), blast a shot to put the opposition ahead 2.1. The Mr Owen short of match fitness, and good riddance Mr Dyer both missed golden opportunities plus the makes lost of mistakes, usually, opposition goalkeeper made some great saves, so we lost, but it was a no consequence friendly.

I have managed to transfer the photographs from two memory sticks and do the signatures cards for the Myspace Blog new volume and then for a volume of creative photographs with the title photodream and where one set 5470 is completed.

23.45 Checked the position in the legends prediction league and find that I have progressed from 600 something to 400 something at the end of week 2. The slowness of activity because for background I decided to watch Rat Race on Film Four. A ridiculous escapade race movie from Las Vegas to Silver City in which John Cleese sets up six punters chancing their arm in his casino to get to Silver City where he has placed two million dollars in the station left luggage available to any of the six who gets their before the others. The six who include Rowan Atkinson, as a badly speaking Italian, Whoopie Goldberg playing nun on the run and Cuba Gooding playing Cuba Gooding, are worthy of Membership of the Big Brother club and each have prosperous and predicable adventurous mishaps until the spectacular finale in which they decide to abandon their individual quests in order to help feed the world.

Another day is ending and despite the weather four or five members of the Big brother gang are in th heated pool while others coated sit at the smoking bench, which others get comfy in the bedroom, but I will be abed and asleep long before any of them are. I have added a registered six developments sets 1915-1919, completing one volume 1907-1904 creating the signature cards to 1925. 6578 sets registered and 252648 photos.

1122 101 Project and past 7 days review

It is only a week since my last uploaded writing, the consequence of technical problems, the decision to upload photographs, and ongoing task, participation in outdoor activities, in part a serious effort to reduce weight sand improve fitness, some household work and some emotionally challenging situations over which I had little or not influence.

On the journey to the Diana concert I took a major decision about autobiographical writing deciding to set aside the work on Fragments of Memory and Fragments of Time for one composite work, centred on what experience, reason and some research indicated was a criminal scam, but which I hoped was not. Almost as soon as I devised the framework for the new work, I received confirmation that I had been chasing a fantasy, an illusion and the framework was shattered.

I had mentioned to a friend studying Literature that I had written a novel and following an expression of interest in reading the work I tried to find the disk on which I had transferred the original manuscript from Amstrad loco script to Microsoft Word and knew that I want to lose myself in recreating the work as my main task for 2007 and into 2008. I am pleased with the first 24 doubled lined pages and decided to attend to some household tasks and to finish the uploading of photographs.

Since July 2003 I have taken 250000 digital photos, over 200000 of these are of the 165000 completed cards with rest a mixture of specific projects on the seasons, visits related to previous experience an individual projects which interested me or part of personal and confidential matters. As with the crayoning and use of pastels they are intended to reflect development from childhood to adulthood, middle and old age and individually are not intended as free standing work but part of the whole. Many of those presently uploaded will last until I am ready to go through completed work and all the non work photographs and decide which I like most as representing the overall work and its development.

The golden rule applies that no one other than my mother and me will be identifiable unless permission has been given or the photo has already been published such as that when I organised a gathering at Parliament, technically an individual Member of the Commons hosted, to mark the passage of the 1969 Children and Young Person's Act, coinciding with the end of the Labour Government which supported the measure and the arrival of the new Conservative administration which opposed several key components. It was an important event in my life but insignificant in terms of the political and social changes which then followed. Some photographs will require time taking research. Over the years, my photograph appeared regularly in the local paper together with regular references to the work of the department I managed, I would send the cuttings to my mother which were kept in scrapbooks, but which were then destroyed as part of her illness. There are over 5000 editions of the local evening paper to be checked, and to be comprehensive there are two regional dailies and two other area evening papers and one regional Sunday which would require checking, unless the editors were prepared for someone to make copies of whatever they have kept on file.

A different kind of problem covers the photographs, some faded, the slides and the negatives from the period 1966-2003 before the digital camera was purchased. This process has commenced but it slow and tends to make way for other work which is of greater interest, until as now I wish I had devoted more time. The present frame work is of one set of 101 of me and one of homes, and work places, the one on my mother and of the family homeland, there are two on the seashore and one on the sky, with one on the garden year. The two which will take longer to complete are those on the work development and on completed work.

I also embarked on adding music and other video's from the Myspace collection, a treasure trove and where I am not sure if the profile will take 101 without freezing or taking time to then download.
I have been so busy doing and experiencing that I have not made daily notes or written up some important to me cultural events. I will make time for this weekend's mouth of the Tyne festival, the third, especially after this year going over by ferry to Tynemouth to visit the trad jazz stage and discovering that it was located next to the Rock of Gibraltar restaurant and pub, and where the staff explained in true Geordie that it was given the name because on a clear day you could see it!

During the past ten days I got to see the most beautiful love story and gripping mystery thriller "Don't Tell her," which if it does not receive the 2008 Best non English language film I will want to know why. This was the film I thought I was seeing a fortnight Friday. I also found watching United 93 almost unbearable. Cronos on DVD, the forerunner of, the Devil's Backbone, Pan's Labrynth, or so I thought only to find that it was not!

1117 Tate Modern and Dance at Royal Festival hall

08.30.04.07.2007. On Saturday June 30th as I travelled the underground to Waterloo station torrential rain began to savage the streets of London, creating disappointment among thousands of families and couples making their way to destinations in the open air. My plan had been to travel one more station and walk along the Embankment along to Tate modern and then later along to the rebuilt Royal Festival Hall for a quick look and lunch and then to the Saatchi, before returning to Victoria for a visit to Brighton for an evening meal. Such was the rain on the station roofing that I changed plan and decided to exit the Waterloo closest to the London Eye and make a dash for Saatchi, using my small umbrella, but not the waterproofs packed in the rucksack.

The rucksack was already proving an excellent purchase, back sculptured with built in cushioning, straps to spread the weight and a multitude of compartments and pockets which enabled items to be organised for different uses. It was suitable for a day trip, rather than for prolonged trekking adventures. I could not run too fast because the downpour was such that my trouser bottoms were in danger of being soaked. And then I had a surprise. Saatchi had disappeared. There was nothing for it but to find the first public entrance to the former County Hall building and use the outfit intended for the Sunday concert. I then made my way along the embankment to the Royal Festival Hall where I decided to take a quick look and discovered that at 2.30 there was to be a dance event to celebrate the reopening after the rebuilding. The first impression was that the building appeared to be little different from what I could remember before, a concert hall within a concrete structure shielded from the noise of the passing trains, and where outside the only noticeable difference was the new attractive walking bridge alongside the railway, and which provided one of the great vistas of the city of London, and one of the great city vistas of the modern world.

I had resisted a temptation to find out what films were showing at the National Film Theatre but passing the National Theatre building a notice board of events included the word free and closer inspection revealed the Tango music concert at 1pm. The day was being reshaped. At the Tate I took the lift to the level 5 without any prior knowledge of how the collections were being organised and presented. The focus of Idea and Object was Minimalism but with reference to the antecedent Constructivism and which paved the way for Conceptual and Installation art. There was much to interest the student of the development of contemporary art, but not me, and although previously the work of Joseph Beuys had attracted my attention, this was because of the man and his ideas behind the work, rather than the work itself.

I was still shocked by the disappearance of Saatchi, given the decision to break from a previous decision that I would not revisit until it was to view my work and could give the Tate, the attention the exhibition merited.

The second collection was organised under the title State of Flux and was devoted to the evolvement of Cubism, Futurism and Vorticism. There was nothing which entertained, provoked WOW or made me reassess the direction of my own work. And then, and then, I turned into Room 3 "After Impressionism," and there it was, first seen half a century before as the star attraction at the Tate, Rodin's Le Baiser.

I realised that I only I remembered part of the work. Then, before my first experience of wondrous female flesh wanting to give to you, she, Francesca de Rimini, giving her adulterously sexuality, had set the ideal. Then as now, she, they, in their nakedness could not be described as erotic, contrary to the present day Tate internet site notes, and in fairness to Rodin he is said to have described the pose as a "large sculptured knick knack following the usual formula". (I will leave what I regard as qualifying as eroticism to another day). She was also of fuller figure and more mature than had been my memory.

What I had forgotten was my reaction fifty years ago to the form of Paolo Malatesta. At the age of sixteen or seventeen, continuing until I was approaching thirty, I was slim size zero, although my legs had developed through cycling. He, Paolo was rugged, enveloping his mistress who herself was no virgin bride. As a consequence of his form I had contemplated a body building Charles Atlas programme, but I lacked the resolve and incentive.

Nearby the statue was the Picasso Girl in a Chemise and the Matisse Standing Nude, but the Le Baiser was all that I could cope with, at least in terms of experiencing an actual work and not its image. There were so many other memories to digest as half a century of experiences presented themselves as if standing looking on to banks of video screens.

I was ready to leave, but my attention was then directed to a large single video screen encompassed in an engaging red three sided and roofed enclosure mounted over the stairs which lead to the balcony overlooking the great Turbine Hall, with cushions to encourage visitor to stop and sit, if one could get down and then get back up. I wish I knew the words to describe the geometric shapes of the enclosure because it engaged me as something more attractive and compelling than most of the work I had seen on display. I know this says more about me than the work, but I hoped someone at the Tate Modern would take pleasure from me mentioning that their construction merited longer term display, especially as the two films were brilliant, succinct and clear explanations of the connections between movements told by the artists themselves and an umbrella commentary.

Afterwards I went in search of the video and later still, wished I had changed my mind about going to the National Theatre for lunch and for the Tango and re-watched the films and made notes. I curse I curse I curse my inability to remember even when I concentrate, am engaged and desperately want to remember.

Before leaving the Tate I had one task to perform which was to remove my soaking shirt, replacing with the sleeveless jacket and the weatherproof, after using paper towels to dry my upper torso. At the Royal Festival Hall I found a seat overlooking the ballroom dance floor against a pillar and hung the shirt over the adjacent seat to dry while I had my after meal siesta, and watched the performers limber up.

At least from the provided programme I thought I knew what to expect. Around 2pm the dancers and musicians had been given little memento gifts and sent off to their designated changing rooms with the reminder that they were on stage from the moment they changed into their costumes until they returned to their everyday wear.

At 2.30 instead of the company returning to perform we, the would be audience, were summoned onto the huge dance floor and told to attach ourselves to one of waiters waving white napkins. Each party was then taken on an exploration of the building from basement level to top, or from top to basement, and those who know the RFH will appreciate that it is a vast warren of rooms and spaces with restaurants and bars, surrounding its primary function, a large concert theatre appropriate for a capital of Europe.

At every space at every level there were over 100 dancers and musicians performing dance and mime, sometimes a solitary man at work over a desk or transporting toxic and dangerous substance, sometimes a couple, or a group, sometimes a group of musicians.

I quickly sussed that it was best to find something which I liked and enjoyed and then move on ignoring the crowd management of the stewards. I was not the only one who worked this out, and therefore there was some chaos. This was a good approach because after half an hour everyone was called to the ballroom for a half hour finale of passionate dance, which banished all the prejudices against classical ballet, not because of Billy Elliot male and cultural stereotyping, but it was too structured and predictable. The combination of individual or small group work experienced in close up and the ensemble performances viewed from the second floor balcony converted me to going to experience some dance at the Northern playhouse next season.

The overall work is entitled "Space Between" and was performed at 5 and 10.30 pm on June 29th and 2.30 June 30th and was three years in the making to mark the reopening of the building, and a collaboration between the South Bank Centre whose administration now covers the three concert buildings and the Hayward, the CandoCo Dance Company, and Newham Sixth form College (the New Vic). Some 200 individuals were involved in creating and performing the work including several in wheel chairs and one remarkable young man with cerebral palsy who proved that it is possible to anything to the highest level of ability if you are singled minded and have talent. He was the uncontested star as the audience response indicated.

The individual performances around the building were exceptional because the artists had to work for half an hour while diverse groups stopped by, looked and moved on much like animals in a zoo. They are unlikely to face a more challenging situation in their professional lives.

The South Bank of the Thames is now a very exciting place, as is London, and if one could be satisfied with a one bedroom tiny flat, anywhere located, the availability of free travel throughout the capital, and free museums, galleries and free shows, it is possible to have a full life of old age experience with sufficient over from my pension to pay for a wide range of other events. But there would be no time for work, especially if one or more companions were found to share some of the experiences.

It was a momentary thought which quickly passed.

The shirt dried but was left to Victoria before changing. However this did have one potentially embarrassing moment as on reaching Embankment station I opened the jacket to reach for the day travel ticket in the non existent shirt top pocket and then forgot to re-zip leaving a large expanse of hairy chest until realising my situation on reaching the platform. Well if anyone noticed it was gay pride day for exposing flesh, although mine is not a pretty sight. I put the shirt back on at Victoria and caught the right train and was struck once more that because of the surrounding geography the approach to Brighton Station gives no hint that one has reached the English Channel.