I am an artist. Not in so many words. / 3 November 2012
A job became available so I jumped at it. You know how it is. Life is long while money is short.
If you’ve got health, you’ve got wealth, said my Jewish aunties, followed by a chorus of approval from the entire rest of the family. Of course, they meant good health, not just any old health. In those days, health was what you had if you weren’t ill.
Nowadays governments say we must have health and well being, healthy lifestyles, healthy relationships and a healthy bank balance.
We don’t hear much about wealth; it isn’t done. The rich have wealth and they don’t need to discuss it. Take it as read.
So for six weeks I’ve been working with words - typing, talking, thinking and writing, in that (descending) order. Images have been out of the picture, save for a few bits of tightly word-wrapped clipart here and there.
For a moment, it looked like my art days were behind me. Although I’ve seen that many times before.
No, it was just another blip.
The job lasts for another seven weeks. But this is Friday night/Saturday morning, and I have to make a picture. Not enough light to draw, and I don't have time. I need to make a picture, now.
Here is the result. Pink rabbit on the hosptal roof and me sick with grief. Bad boy Foxy threw it up there. Will I ever forgive him?
Next time I'll write more about the picture and how I made it; it's interesting.
Keywords: bad boy,chailey heritage,grief,health,hospital,pictures,pink rabbit,wealth,words