Saturday, 23 April 2016

Cry. Sod Harry. Fuck England and St George!

I’m not against collectives per se. Collectives based on progressive ideas can be a force for good. The concept of international socialism is a laudable cause. But when collectivism manifests itself as nationalism and/or patriotism then we need to worry. Being proud of where you are born, a land mass, a line drawn in the sand is the territory of the half-wit. Why should you want to identify with the people that live in your vicinity just because they live in your vicinity? Life should be all about toleration and celebrating diversity and not about being in one homogenous tribe.

Down the centuries so many barbaric acts have been committed in the name of England, or more accurately the English elite that lord over us, that effectively as a ‘nation’ we all have blood on our hands.

We can’t. There is no such thing. Genetically we are a mongrel 'nation' and have been since time began. The Englishman* is a myth.


We all have blood on our hands



*I use the masculine term because in this unequal world it is men who have invented nationhood and religion in order to oppress.

Shakespeare Day - A Bank Holiday?

I really would like to see today as Shakespeare Day, a bank holiday (as you can never have enough of those), a day to celebrate our cultural heritage. Not because Shakespeare needs the PR, think he’s being doing quite nicely on that front for a few hundred years, but because it deflects the jingoism and ridiculous nonsense of St George. The arts enrich our lives, they are good for our wellbeing, and they help us on the road to happiness and fulfilment. The arts celebrate diversity.

Angry, bored, depressed, perplexed, stressed, having trouble making sense of the world or just generally unhappy?
Then get some art in your life. Open your heart to the arts. You’ll feel so much better for it.


Scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing), William Blake, ca. 1825 — Source.

Friday, 8 April 2016

On losing my virginity

I'm sure you know the score; the anticipation is overwhelming, the pulse races as the nerves build and the fear of failure weighs heavy on the mind. Venturing into unchartered waters can be quite traumatic.

I've always been a late developer which probably accounts for my boyish looks. People are often surprised at how old I am. Apparently I look younger than my given years. It has been commented on many times. That's what good clean living does for you I guess.

At the tender age of 60 I am about to lose my exhibiting virginity. As from Sunday evening 14 pieces of my art will be on view to the public at the Art of Norwich NÂș43 exhibition. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a teeny bit apprehensive. I not particularly worried about how my work is received but very worried that my creations will stay hanging in situ. I'm responsible for putting the fixings in the board that my pictures will hang upon. I'm shit at DIY and as we know from the Bard of Barking, "the laws of gravity are very, very strict". It could all end in tears.