I put it in the frame and then 2 days later the tape holding the board at the back of the frame peeled away and it all fell out.
Luckily everything is now stuck on so nothing fell off or got bent, but now that its out of the frame I really ought to take some better photos (without reflections.)
Coral Final
Coral closeup
Eels
This was very quick and enjoyable to make. So I’m making a few more.
I bought some more ink (Holy crap! So expensive!)
While browsing through the shop and trying to decide between the bright pink or the crimson I accidentally knocked a bottle off the shelf and it shattered, leaving vibrant, bloody ink all over the floor.
Whoops.
I looked around in that panicked way I imagine people who’ve committed crimes usually do, but none of the employees even noticed. Not even the girl standing in an aisle next to mine.
Clearly the pay isn’t high in art supply shops.
Yes! I thought.
Now all you need to do is walk away Janine.
Just…slowly…walk away…
No one will even notice.
Just walk to the till like nothing even happened. You know nothing, you did NOTHING.
Whatever you do, just don’t look back!!
Anyone who has ever read any of the Greek myths knows you should NEVER look back.
Terrible things seem to happen to those who look back.
Unfortunately, I looked back.
I saw the ink bleeding out all over the floor and I lost my nerve.
My guilt trumped my desire to run away and I confessed to the oblivious employee in the adjacent aisle.
Which happily for the moral, turned out to be the right thing to do.
I said sorry, she just thanked me for letting her know and mopped it up.
I bought my 4 bottles of ink with only minor evidence of pink all over my fingers to show for it.
Whew. Tense there for a little while.
Then I spent the rest of the Sunday afternoon turning the living room into a studio (Ex was out naturally) and painted 4 more backgrounds, in pink and gold, green, blue-green and blue while watching the Big Bang Theory.
On a sunny weekend the Antique and Junk market in Camden Passage is a lovely place to go for a stroll.
There’s a wide range of silver, faux silver, vintage clothes (some over priced, a tad too much fur – rather shabby rabbit), costume jewellery, old magazines, a suitcase full of scissors (who is buying that?), an entire wooden box of spoons (for the spoon collectors I imagine), old stamps, empty boxes, tiny silver cream jugs, candle stick holders, wooden seals, old prints, just all sorts of stuff.
Sometimes the vendors bring their dogs and it’s fun to pet them while looking through what is largely tat.
What’s exciting about looking through reams and reams of tat is that occasionally, just occasionally, you find something that is pretty darn sweet.
The ex and I once had a massive row over some junk. I know, most of our arguments are ludicrous, this one was no exception. (This was ages ago. Now we just fight about imaginary stuff)
I saw something the ex had glossed over as ‘rubbishy rubbish’ and when I went to get cash to pay for it the ex went and bought it. Man, I was pissed! Almost irrationally pissed.
There was a cold front for a little while but we eventually kissed and made up. The ex doesn’t notice things until you sift through all the tat and when you’ve finally found something, then decides it’s worth liking.
Anyway I went on a photo spree a couple of sunny weekends ago. One vendor reproached me gently for taking photos of her stuff. I suppose I should have asked. Naughty naughty.
So I bought a silver Moon face broach from her so that was sort of my apology. (Well, I wanted that broach anyway.) I’ve decided to start a brooch collection.
Found a silver sea-horse broach a while ago, as well as a mounted Grouse foot. My mother saw the Grouse’s foot and squealed in horror. So the next year I got her one for herself. (Because that’s just the kind of daughter I am – Enjoys horrifying mother.)
She has yet to wear it.
One of the stalls just before you go into Camden Passage
Broaches on muslin
Some Old Posters at the same stall. He also sell vintage toys.
1920′s Broach Closeup
Broaches Collage. I rather like the Scottish feathery one.
One of the stalls opposite the Camden head
Marcasite Necklaces. Or some junk.
Sun & Moon & Clock broaches.
Scottish Broaches
Sign Board & Yellow Typewriter
Rocking Dog
Boy Holding Dog Outside Tesco’s. I love the dog’s expression.
Boy Holding Dog Outside Tesco’s
The Breakfast Club in the Evening
Breakfast Club Window. I like the way the light looks from the outside set against the yellow.
Camden Head Pub
Camden Passage street empty.
Camden Passage. Took ages to get a not so shaky shot.
Zombie Parasite infected snail. The eyeballs! The eyeballs!
I looked into the parasite-snail thing I vaguely mentioned as a comparison to shopping with the ex in Selfridges a couple of weeks ago, and after a quick search I found the exact clip I was looking for on the interweb (although I’m sure the original clip was voiced by Attenborough.)
This little video has been on my mind for years. I can’t ever forget it.
Selfridges Window (Rather good their windows. This series was showcasing rising young talent.)
I went shopping with the ex to Selfridges on Saturday. (Well a Saturday a couple of weeks ago anyway. I’m on holiday now.)
It was an eye-opening experience.
Not because I hadn’t gone to Selfridges before but because of the dramatic and noticeable personality overhaul the ex underwent while in the store.
I’m quite manic when I visit shops that have a lot of things to look at and I have no fixed agenda
i.e. I’m not thinking
“I want a kettle and then I’m leaving.”
I look at everything. I cannot talk or concentrate. I want to go through all the racks methodically one by one, sifting through the multitude of products. I need to be dragged around because I have ceased to function aside from browsing.
Muji, for example, is particularly irresistible. It’s like a pricey charity shop. I like to read all the labels and then mentally debate with myself whether I need anything. I desperately want to need something but the problem with Muji is that all of its products only look appealing en mass. Once you get them home you realise what a pile of junk it is.
Like those stupid plastic trays they always have. I love the clear acrylic compartments. I don’t know why. In my mind I’m filling them with things. What things? No idea, but just … some things that might fill an acrylic compartment.
After a while I reach a state of total shopper hypnosis and have sudden uncontrollable urges to buy things that have become crucial to my happiness.
JUST BUY IT!! BUY IT NOW!
YOU NEED IT!
YOU’LL USE IT!
YOU’LL USE IT EVERY DAY.
EVERY SINGLE DAY OF YOUR LIFE!
IT’LL BE AWESOME!
DO IT NOW!”
That’s my internal monologue. I’m not walking around Muji yelling. (Yet)
Occasionally the sensible quiet part in my brain says,
“Yes, yes, that’s very nice. Very nice.
But let’s not be hasty shall we?
You remember all the trouble we’ve had with things like this in the past don’t you?
You don’t want to be buying something only to return it do you? Think of how much unnecessary work that would be.
Why don’t we just look around a bit and come back in a little while?”
But the shouty part usually yells over the sensible guy, in a dastardly attempt to drown him out. (I don’t know why it’s a ‘him’. Its sexless really.)
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! JUST BUY IT!
COMING BACK IS BORING. COMING BACK IS FOR LOSERS!
YOU’LL WASTE TIME. TIME IS MONEY EVERYONE KNOWS THAT.
DON’T BE SUCH A SQUARE. YOU NEED IT.
WE HAVE MONEY. YOU DESERVE A TREAT. YOU HARDLY EVEN DRINK!! GO ON BUY IT!
THERE WONT BE ANYTHING BETTER ANYWAY! YOU’LL JUST HAVE MORE HASSLE COMING BACK.
ONCE YOU HAVE IT, IT’LL BE DONE. DON’T YOU WANT TO BE DONE??
JUST BUY IT. PICK IT UP AND PUT IT IN YOUR HAND. TAKE IT TO THE COUNTER NOW!!!!
NOOOOOOOOWWW!!!!!”
Eventually I get really tired and cranky. If I’m lucky I don’t buy anything.
If I succumb I come home with something useless, a lighter wallet and an agenda to rationalize my purchase. This is why I avoid shopping as much as possible.
So back to the ex: The ex’s personality underwent a remarkable and really quite odd change. You know those documentaries where some parasite crawls into the eye-ball of a snail, and then makes the snail change its entire behaviour so the snail crawls up on a branch so a bird can eat it, only so the parasite can live in the bird’s gut to complete its life cycle?
That’s what happened to the ex.
Well not literally. The ex wasn’t infected by a parasite that made the ex crawl up a branch on the look out for a bird, (You’ll be relieved to hear that) but what I mean is the behavioural pattern changes were comparable.
1. The ex became very relaxed. - Now the ex is not a relaxed person.
Sober. Not a relaxed person sober.
I felt I needed to add the ‘sober’ part. Un-sober the ex is suuuuper relaxed.
2. The ex seemed to be filled with a calm sense of inner well-being and benevolence.
The ex is quite benevolent in general, but the benevolence seemed more heightened than usual.
3. The ex also became surprisingly susceptible. Really susceptible.
Every time I pointed out something out there was a discussion, in some depth, of whether we could or should buy it.
New wine glasses, decanters, complete dinner sets. A new couch. We were both on some euphoric bender.
The ex started offering to buy me all sort of things. Just things I liked for no reason.
It was like Selfridges was some evil narcotic, some parasitic worm.
I didn’t take advantage of this, because I knew the ex wasn’t their normal aggravated self and I’m just not that kind of girl, believe it or not.
The ex bought me lunch (This was planned before our Selfridges jaunt. It was incentive to get me there in the first place you see. So no narcotic inducement)
I succumbed (dammit!) to Selfridges wicked wiles and bought myself 2 miniature bell jars things on stands.
Look. I need them. I’m going to use them. Really, I am. I’m going to put some drawings in there, like tiny cut-out things. I don’t know what yet but I swear I’m going to do it.
Both bell jars are now lying on the bedroom window-sill.
We finally walked out of Selfridges. It was raining and crowded on the grey pavement. Within mere minutes the hypnotic effect of Selfridges had worn off. The state of euphoria was palpably evaporating.
Back on the bus ride home though the hell of Oxford street, and the ex was back to
“GET BACK IN YOUR CORNER! BE QUIET! DON’T ANNOY ME. I KILL YOU!”
What would my mother prefer? A musical snow-globe or a ceramic reindeer? A philosophical dilemma. I need to sleep on it.
I went out last night and come home at 4 a.m.
At 9 a.m. the ex poked me in the small of my back, to wake me up to open the door for the new cleaner, which I did, grumbling and irrationally angry. I mutter as I grope around and yank on my winter coat (no bra, I don’t open the door sans support.)
Somewhat sleep deprived, I decided to go to Marks and Spencer’s to do some quick food shopping. (I had a bra on by now)
Except I was unexpectedly stalled in their Christmas section, torn with indecision.
I picked up various items, that I was convinced would make amazing Christmas presents.
(One of these was a book light. How is that a good present? What was I thinking? Maybe that was for me. I’m actually not sure anymore.)
I’d pick one thing up, put something else down. Walk around the shelves, then repeat.
I did this for half an hour, racked with indecision, even though I was starving and hung over.
By the end of it I had 3 gifts I wasn’t even sure why I was buying. I was in a trance. I just wanted to buy something.
My stomach finally managed to drag me away from the Christmas hoopla to hunt down some pasta.
While in the food aisle I managed to snap myself out of my Christmas consumerist state of hypnosis and managed to surreptitiously slip 2 of the 3 Xmas products into various food sections.
Important to do this on the sly.
It’s one thing to stick something from the pudding aisle into the meat section, but it’s quite another to try to leave a book-light in-between the ready-meals and hope no one noticed you doing it.
The ex got me a pair of socks as a present (just a random present for no reason) but I thought it was my Christmas present so instead of saying thank you like a decent human being, I said I didn’t want them and I didn’t like them and generally behaved like an ungrateful dickhead.
The minute I said it of course I instantly wished I could have taken it back.
My Shop - Unframed Prints only $18! free Shipping too.
God dammit!
I justbought a T-shirt last week (there was $4 off all T-Shirts) and now I want to cancel it so I can buy it again just to qualify for the free shipping.
But I already asked them to cancel it once before (I thought I’d like to change the colour, but then I didn’t change the colour), and now I feel shy about doing it again.
Seriously, should I or shouldn’t I? – The difference is like $6. No point no?
The T-shirt arrived last week and it’s actually really good. I was pleasantly surprised. The print quality is excellent and it’s a really soft fabric. I love the natural colour too.
So I went and bought one too (The Goddess, so appropriate for me). I’m going to take it to Bombay and have my tailor (or my mother) adjust the neckline so its more flattering for my inflatable breasts. (High collars don’t suit me as well as a low neck line)
I might buy another one besides the one I so STUPIDLY bought before they announced the free shipping. Can’t decide if I should go with Enthu cutlet or the Indian Knight.
The Slaves of Love. I love Francis Marshall illustrations.
Yes that’s right. I’ve stubbornly persisted with my mental illness. Onwards and upwards!
I realised that the 723 target I had estimated earlier included 200 books of non-fiction. Not even my avowed dedication to such a cause as this will allow me to purchase 200 books of non-fiction penned by Mz Cartland. So I’ve adjusted my goal to 512 or thereabouts.
I confess I’m feeling a bit worn out. The last 100 are proving to be a challenge to acquire. (Cost + availability).
To soothe myself I bought the entire collection of Georgette Heyer’s, who only wrote 35 Regency novels in her lifetime, of a far superior quality, compared to Barbara Cartland’s one book a week standard. Apparently BC modeled herself on GH by liberally pilfering from her novels. I must say, the Heyers are much better reads, quite the high-grade heroin to Barbara’s cheap talcum-powdered crack. I’ve nearly worked my way through the entire lot.
The other day A2 (one of the bosses at work) had to ‘remind me’ to take home some of my books that were being stockpiled behind my desk. Work is rather baffled by this collection but at the same time intrigued, so much so that my desk neighbor actually bought a duplicate book off me. Stockholm syndrome of some kind or hypnotic suggestion maybe.
I’ve calculated that I’ve spent £2.10 a day everyday for the last 2 months. That sounds like a lot, until you consider that a Sunday newspaper is £2.50
News? Pffftt who needs news? Amy is dead. Osama is dead. Neither did drugs and one of them watched porn. The stock market is down again. Didn’t we just do this whole stock market down crap?
This is why I never bother with the news. It’s always some kind of re-run.
The ex doesn’t want me to post personal things on here.
YES THATS RIGHT! CENSORSHIP!!
I’M IN CHINA! THE OPPRESSOR IS TRYING TO CURTAIL MY FREEDOM OF SPEECH!!!
But what else is a blog good for? I’m not good at being impersonal. I don’t do reviews. This is an entirely personal blog.
Besides, everyone has personal stuff. What’s the big secret?
So I’ve sent any possibly contentious posts to the ex to be vetted. It took a 2 weeks to get one post vetted but I think well worth it. The ex made some excellent amendments and I was very happy to compromise and not be censored outright.
SCREW YOU CHINESE GOVERNMENT!
I’m turning into one of those crazy people who emails companies just to complain.
I’ve run eBay dry of Barbara Cartlands. The only ones I haven’t bought are ones priced at £3.00 and over.
Even I have to draw the line somewhere.
So I switched to Amazon. Then I decided to write Amazon a complaint about the design and layout of the checkout.
“06/02/11 13:49:21
Your name: J
Comments: The My Account & checkout sections wastes a lot of screen real estate.
The buttons repeat themselves
It’s not a very clean design, and perhaps not so user-friendly.
Kind Regards,
J”
Seriously, the design needs an absolute overhaul. You have to look twice just to find the right buttons.
Why does the my account and checkout need HUGE blocks with 10 links and buttons all over the place?
Why no side bar? No mega menu?
I wish we could pitch a re-design to them.
Amazon amazingly enough emailed a pretty nice response the same day saying thanks blah blah, will pass message on to development team.
I was impressed. That’s the kind of complainer I am. I don’t really expect responses. I just email complaints all day.
Then I followed that complaint with another complaint to an eBay seller who listed a book as a paperback when it was a HARDBACK!!!! I fucking HATE hardbacks!! I don’t want the hardbacks!! I want the illustrated softcovers! I can’t even return it because the postage would cost about as much as buying it did. (Which I mentioned in my complaint – No reply!)
ARGGGGhhhghh. That woman is SO getting a bad review.
1 star for communication
1 star for satisfaction!
SCREW YOU CHINA!
Update:
I got a refund and they said I should keep the book. Free book!
Now my drawer is overflowing. I can’t do any work. I don’t feel like drawing anymore. I just want to read BC after BC.
A4. asked me if I was really going to spend over a grand on Barbara Cartlands. This was a bit of a reality check. I hadn’t really thought about it in terms of hard cold cash. I only feel my collection isn’t accelerating fast enough.
I have a bad feeling it might end up being more than a grand anyway.
Even if I buy all the books on eBay and amazon I don’t know if my count will go further than 500 or so. The last 200 BC’s are going to be really tough to track down.
It’s all getting a bit out of control.
Minimizing personal possessions to make room – I got rid of most of my shoes because they compete for space with my books. Books always trump shoes, which shows you my lack of perspective. I actually need some shoes.
The not drawing is worrying me the most. It screams lack of focus, lack of ambition. I have all these ideas, loads of plans, sketches, thumbnails for large drawings but I really can’t do anything besides read these damn books.
I’m supposed to finish some freelance work and I’ve procrastinated all morning instead.
I also just bought 9 more.
Fuck. What is wrong with me? Why do I get like this? Where is the moderation? But then lack of moderation is so much more exciting.
Just imagine how amazing it would look to have 723 Barbara Carland titles on shelf upon shelf. I can already see it, in my mind’s eye. Just towers and towers of Barbara Cartlands. Even as they are, unarranged and piled under my bed, the sheer quantity of them lined up haphazardly thrills me.
