I think I might have fallen apart while I was deciding on this brown colour. I could start again I suppose, wandering off about how I cannot think of anything to write. I want to talk about something interesting that everyone can be apart of. Sometimes I sit in the park and try to think about what has happened to me so far that I might be able to think about for long enough to write a whole book. I do not know what I am doing. These used to just be little jokes. The first one that I did I thought up in the shower. Now they take me hours to write. It is a process of whinging about something and then removing the unnecessary words. I should have just made books. There is something that I wrote a while ago that I want to put in. The next time that you are looking at an image try to imagine that it is as big as your peripheral vision. Do not move your head, just let the objects, lines and colours in the image spread out in front of you until you cannot see anything else. It does not actually have to happen, it cannot. It should just seem as though it has. After a while you can do anything. It is sort of like Peter Pan I think, you just have to re-learn your imagination. I have an awful lot of other things to do before the exhibition opens and I think that I ought to get on with it. I hope that I made a point. If only my work spoke for itself. Go back