I'm still doing stuff. . . . But not here

OK I am a terrible blogger these days, but it does not mean I am not quietly working away in the background. One little project has been creating a bit of artwork for a friend who has written a book. It all sort of got delayed somewhat due to life the universe and stuff. This is one of the pictures for that book.

Due to all the delays I then thought  . . . . . . Hang on I reckon I could write a book, it must be easier than drawing pictures for a book, and so as I type I am about half way through it at about 60,000 words. It would help if I could type a little better than I can and also if I knew in a little more detail how it will end. All I know for certain is that Brian, Brenda and their Parrot will be OK and Inspector Clarke will end with a new fancy office and the possibility of a sequel.

Right folk it is time for me to go it is late here in the UK and I was up early this morning delivering things to my daughter.  

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The Continuing quest to draw more and slowly improve.

 A friend is writing a book as friends are inclined to do and so I am drawing s couple of pictures for it as I do like drawing stuff and I am slowly getting the hang of the new fine line pens. They are rather good as they work well with watercolour paints too. I am also drawing rocks and am about half way through one that I think is going rather well. My first one was a bit of an experiment but I decided that the idea has legs . . . . unlike the rocks.

So here we have two more drawing one a cat and the other rocks. I will post the latest rocks image later once I finish it assuming it does not go completely wrong. One small problem with fine line pens is there is no going backwards once you draw a line that line is there for good.

Charlie and the Moon

 I am drawing quite a lot at present, it is good for the mind. . . One of my latest is this. It is based on a 11th century ink drawing on silk by Li Cheng and called Buddhist Temple in the Mountains.

I drew my old friend Charlie the other day using a telescope I had given him just a few days before. His wife had then taken a picture of him and sent it to me. Anyway I am now pondering the next thing to draw. It is an odd thing because you really need to feel something that makes you go OOOOooooo that's it I will draw that and I have yet to find my next little project . . . . . Manet has been suggested so we will see. 

Everyone Loves a Chap with a Fine Line Pen and a bit of spare time

I am quietly working my way through a few well known paintings although I'm drawing them rather than painting them which would take far too long and I am far too old to do such things as well as not having the patience to complete such tasks. Anyway my last picture was American Gothic. Not really a lot of room for Artistic Licence with this one so I stuck fairly close to the original I have now started on my next drawing of what is a very well known painting here in Britain it is The Monarch of the Glen. Not what I was planning to draw but it turned up on a TV show and I thought OOOooooooo that is ideal.

I'm still here and still drawing

In order to prove I am still about here are a couple of my most recent pictures based on the art of other folk who are far more talented than myself.

 

The erratic nature of my blogging

 I am now a very erratic Blogger the poor old blog is feeling rather neglected. But I remain busy and have been drawing a fair bit in the last 12 months. I have always enjoyed drawing, it is a strange thing as those of you who also draw, paint or do other creative things know. Lurking deep inside us is some sort of force that keeps us doing whatever we do through thick and thin. I have many ideas in my head at present and have stated to draw in a larger pad which for reasons I dont know has meant I am going to draw a little series of pictures with angels in. They are rather dodgy angels. After all I might enjoy drawing but I have never actually said I was any good at it, it's a very personal style and I am not entirely sure the old masters would approve.

Hello I have popped back again as I do

Well I'm still drawing stuff and things are still in a state of normality at home. But elsewhere things are starting to come off the rails a bit. Covid-19 is getting worse in the UK again and it  is looking likely it will be seriously bad. Parts of Europe are a couple of weeks ahead of the UK and Countries such as Spain and France are not good. 

The Election in the USA seems to be just strange at present; Mr Bidon seems a bit frail and as for Mr Trump; to me he has lost the plot as well as going down with Covid-19 and he also appears to have given key members of his party Covid-19. He says he is fine, but in truth it is early days for him and this is one seriously nasty virus that can get you many days even weeks after you think all is going well. And he does not appear to be trying to win votes from outside his core supporters. So is at risk of self destruction both physically and in the Presidential race.

We will see I guess. . . . . . 

 

The 2019 A to Z Challenge . . . Letter X

X

Well if there is one letter of the alphabet my slightly weird theme is perfect for it is X. Yes everyone has heard of Plan X and I bet many of you have at some point in your life embarked on your own Plan X, I know I have several times.

Of course the most important aspect of Plan X is that it’s a secret and a pretty big one at that or it would not be called Plan X. In other words the one thing I cannot do here is actually tell you all what Plan X is. Well it is a secret, but again I can refer you to Wikipedia or a general search of Goggle for a random selection of Plan X’s. Remember though any Plan X that turns up on the internet telling folk what Plan X is, is not a good Plan X.

I can say, that one important point to remember with my own Plan X is you need to remember to Duck or you will have a sore head  

Over the years I have created many cardboard arty things

This is one of them made as a Wedding Present 

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The Xecotcovach Bird

Someone will be thinking Hang On where have I heard of that before

  

The 2019 A to Z Challenge . . . Letter P

P

OK it’s time for, The Peoples Plan or Plan P. Yes after yesterday’s accidental drift into Politics, Pianos and Ducks I thought I could continue the theme tonight with the Peoples Plan. Using People is a cunning move used by many to add a touch of credibility to something; Like’ The Peoples Vote (Very popular in Britain at present), The Peoples Leader, The People's Will and so on. There is nothing quite like implying that the masses are right behind you cheering you on and that whatever you are up to is what the people want.

Here on the ever popular A to Z challenge what folk want of course is, The Perfect Plan. After all P is a long way from A but not yet close enough to Z to make that final sprint to the finish line. Some will now fall by the wayside and Perish their words drying up as they look at the Queues of folk ahead of them.  . . . . . . Q’s see what I did. O yes my mind is still as sharp as a Ducks beak or as this is the Letter P as sharp as a Duck Billed Platypus.

I have never drawn a Duck Billed Platypus so . . . .

Yes OK But it is sort of almost a Duck Billed Thing

And a Rocket

They are sort of Pointed too

OK Ducks are not very pointed

But that is not the Point.

The Life of a Struggling Artist

I am a rather busy bee at present in the real world, you know the one where folk actually run about in the flesh talking to each other, eating food and, doing things of a physical nature. So far I have four almost finished pictures towards my future exhibition that my new manager Mr Charlie is planning. Many folk have been saying I need to do more art and so it is now happening, what I suspect might happen is folk will now go . . . . AH DAMN yes when we said art we meant something entirely different not those weird little pics. . . . . . Have you considered some performance art out in the desolate waste lands of Shropshire . . . .

You see this is why I have not really worked hard over the years being an artist, because I’m a bit of a traditionalist in a rebel sort of way. I don’t believe art should cost a fortune and all this trend for modern installations or performance art annoys me. Not because of what it is, but the truth is really good modern art is hardly new and so many of the present lot are redoing stuff that has been done to death already. Anyway I will just do what I do which is the sort of chap I am.

So there you have it a quick post to bring folk up to date. One minor drawback of all this art, gardening and sorting out the office is the poor old blog is losing page views like a stone falling through a vacuum. No wonder that Picasso chopped his ear off and the like, art is a bit all-consuming if you want to put a decent exhibition together. Never mind I will battle away both in the black voids of cyberspace and the black voids of art now. It is not easy scratching out a little place in the universe when you are just a chap among chaps in a world that is generally a bit chaotic.  The life of a struggling artist can be a funny old place to be, and yes sorry I have not written a poem in over a week. . . . .terrible

  

   

The Start of Master Plan Number 42

Today it has started and we all know what that is going to mean . . . . .  Well it will mean with some degree of certainty that I will be posting stuff slightly less than normal. OK yes that bit has already started, but that is because I have been busy trying to stay on top of the garden and also slowly but surely working towards moving the office. The first step of which was running a network cable to the new room, which I have now done I just need to sort the room out a bit, it is rather full of stuff. (a chaps work is never done).

Right back to the main point, as you all know I tend to post a picture of some sort with most of my blog posts, things I have drawn most of the time in the days or day previously. Well I have been requested by a friend to turn them into solid pictures that can hang on the wall and be poked at by folks fingers as they ponder and say things like . . . . Well what is that meant to be its Rubbish . . . .  The public are a fickle and unforgiving bunch who do have a habit of saying. . . . I could do that. . . . 

So today or strictly speaking last night I started to turn the first of these images into a tangible solid thing. They will be smallish, I don’t have the resources to create huge pictures, and will actually be slightly sort of three dimensional. A bit like the cardboard sculpture I have created on and off for years only flatter, anyway I have a plan and know exactly what I want these to look like. All I need to do is see if the plan works with the first picture.

So what this means is time is a bit limited I will find it impossible to post something on the blog every day as well as move the office and stay on top of the garden, it is well over half an acre and write poetry and get an exhibition together for hopefully the end of this year.  So if I do vanish for a few days then all is well; if I vanish for say three weeks then all is not well and I will need to be rescued from mad Zombies or something of a similar nature.

You can all blame my good friend Mr Charlie but I have told him he has to be my manager now and do all the organising as I am a temperamental and grumpy artist.  I still am not sure if this exhibition will happen, but I will give it my best and we will see how it all pans out, you know what life is like sometimes stuff works and sometimes stuff does not.      

The City of Towers Lighthouse and a Man's Quest to Create Art

The City of Towers Lighthouse

Yesterday I mentioned that I made the City of Towers, they are in fact table numbers and now have the names of all those coming to the Valentines Lunch in the village hall tomorrow upon their roofs . But the thing is sometimes the mind can see an opportunity to expand on a little idea and so today I made the City of Towers Lighthouse. I had no real reason to do so other than that little inner drive that artist folk have to create come what may. My main problem is unlike many I do not have much in the way of finance or resources to do this (Its OK I do have a chilled and comfortable life), so almost all my arty stuff needs to cost as near as damn it nothing to produce, so cardboard and a tube of glue are rather good arty things for me to create with. Sadly not only does this cost little more than my time to produce, but folk will not buy such art, so I remain quietly starving in my artists garret. . . . Only it’s a fairly nice bungalow on the edge of a rather nice little village. This makes it even worse as a middle class artist who is not starving has no street cred what so ever, and I have no plans to die which always works wonders for artists saleability.

Still what can I do I am what I am, and so will continue doing my bit in my own way despite my simple but moderately comfortable middle class-ish lifestyle.  It’s a funny old word is all I can say.

The City of Towers

    

A Day in the Life of a Blogger and other events

Yes this is a snowman and a vampire drawn by a small child

The Vampire is the one with the ears

And they both look a bit evil to me

This is my drawing of Thomas the Tank Engine

I was told it is rubbish by a Small Child

I think the addition of the Owl and the Pussy Cat

Confused the Small Child

I have had a busy day that involved my attempt at making a gate for outside, I say attempt because it is a bit rustic, but looks OK and it will do the job required of it. Which is to stop the winter wind sneaking round the corner of the house at the back and laughing at me. It has done this for a couple of year now and I have threatened it with retribution at least once, but all it does is howl a bit and carry on. So that is that, it has had its last chance, mind you I did not get to put the new rustic gate on its hinges as we had visitors one of whom was a small enthusiastic and noisy child.  I am not that good with small children with their leaping about having a good time and it is much worse when the little critters like you, which makes it much harder to scare them.

To try and keep this small enthusiastic child quiet the pair of us did a bit of drawing. Now I don’t know how many of you have experience of drawing with small enthusiastic children but they are to put it bluntly not easy to keep focused on what they are drawing. We started with Thomas the Tank Engine, well he told me it was Thomas but it looked a bit like a demented mad axe murdering train to me. And I know it has been a while since I have seen Thomas (I prefer Ivor the Engine it is a million times better) but one thing I know is it does not have 14 pairs of wheels. I tried to help by drawing the Fat Controller. . . .I suspect he is not called that now. . .  but my controller was actually rather thin and looked like a priest out of some old western with a parrot on his shoulder. The small person then drew the fat controller but it looked a bit like Edward Scissorhands to me but very very thin and sort of tree shaped. . . .  Small people are (not to beat about the bush as the saying goes) total rubbish at drawing and trying to explain the principles of perspective is like trying to teach an Earthworm to climb a ladder.

The Small child soon got bored and decided it was time to leave and head off for his Sunday roast while I now slightly the worse for wear headed out into the cold wind that was still laughing at me even though it could see what I was planning to do. I then managed to hit my thumb with a hammer which was a bit sore, so I shouted at the wind a lot and waved my hammer at it in defiance. Starting a small stampede among a passing group of elderly walkers I had not spotted until then who thought I was mad. And a man on a bicycle fell into the hedge thinking I was the God Thor arriving to attack him, apparently he said he has been expecting it to happen for some time. I tried to tell him I was not Thor but it is tricky when you are holding a large hammer in the air and shouting so in the end I agreed and said he was now free to cycle in peace. . . .sort of. 

Some days never quite go to plan  

House Signs and Vampire Crows

At present our house sign is a battered old bit of wood that has split and rotted over time to the point where no one can read it and so no one can find us. It is rather good that no one can find us because I am a grumpy unsociable chap who shouts at folk turning up and I threaten to set the Penguin on them. They tend to think I'm a bit mad then and run off. Unfortunately I am the only unsociable grumpy chap in the house and I have been asked to design a new house sign that means folk can find us.

My first ideas were rejected before I even got them onto paper and I was told NO ZOMBIES or MONSTERS well that’s not fair that was at least three of four ideas gone in an instant. That happened to me once before a long long time ago, I was asked to paint a huge mural on the wall in the local Youth Centre and I painted a huge scary dragon smashing its way through the end wall. It went down rather well with the teenagers in the youth group. Sadly however the hall was also used by some sort of mother and toddler group and a gang of little old ladies, neither of which approved and the poor old dragon had to be made unscary. Well that was not fair it never quite looked the same and a couple of years later the hall was entirely painted white inside and that was the end of that. Such is the life of an obscure and unknown artist in the wilds of the English Welsh borders, I lived just on the Welsh side at that time as opposed to just on the English side now.

Anyway back to the point this house sign. My first sketch done in hast late last night has not been entirely rejected yet, but I may need to do some more drawing. I was wondering how vampire crows would go down I might try and sneak one onto the next design, maybe no one will notice.

I have to say my suggestion of moving parts and letters that light up in the dark has not gone dawn well either with the chap who sort of offered to make us a new house sign. I think he may have had something slightly easier to make in mind, but then he knows what I'm like when left to do the designing.

A new colourful theory about Neanderthal man and the origin of Art

Last night as I struggled to draw something interesting like a mad dog eating a Vampire Lemming that had been distracted by the arrival of Mechanical Zombie Aliens riding giant Goats. The thought went through my mind that where did all this drawing stuff start. The reason I thought that was because my drawing was taking on a distinct prehistoric image, more dinosaur (the Fidosaurous) than dog. The earliest drawings of course being those of strange beasts on the walls of caves by Stone Age man some ten thousand plus years ago.

As I pondered this thinking why would they suddenly do this (draw and paint on cave walls), after all Lions and Bears don’t, I had this sudden flash of genius. You see if you look at the last few ancient tribes that live in the world today, one of the things they like to do is dress up in costume and paint their faces and bodies.  Most folk even now like a good party or carnival and will paint their faces and dress up in fancy dress and feathers at the drop of a hat.

So it is a small step from covering yourself in paint and leaping about with your mates to using the paint on the walls of your cave to cheer it up a bit. . . . . This may not sound very exciting but it is, because what it implies is early Neanderthal man was not just a hairy club carrying grey sort of chap, but was a colourful and bright chap with each tribe doing its own distinct thing to distinguish it from its rivals.

Now some of you will be saying that is all well and good but so what . . . . . Well I am letting the world know of my theory of the origin of Art and the shock news that the very early ancestors of mankind were in fact a jolly colourful bunch. . . . By announcing this now I should be in time to get some sort of award before the end of the year, something shiny with my name on it is large letters. . . . . A Nobel Prize for History would be good, to go with the one for Science. . . .   

The creeping reality of Rob Z Tobor and other uneventful events of no consequence

In the last couple of days I have been busy, but not busy doing exciting things just busy doing the things that folk generally do to keep busy.  You know the sort of things.

Attacking a large beast that has eaten the local wild Aardvark, with a pointy stick deep in the dark of the woods.

Hidden a huge pile of rare Italian renaissance manuscripts in order to avoid major historical conflicts with the Pope, as they reveal an early religious war between the church and Aliens,  involving treacle toffee. AH hang on maybe I was not meant to say that…..

Talked the Lemmings of Petrograd out of an out and out attack on Mr Jones the Alien hunter, who has yet again disturbed them as he ran through their home naked pursued by the police and one of Freddie’s ferrets

Vanished off to watch at least half a million starlings as they settle into a nearby village and poo on everything.

Washed our car after it got covered in the poo of a huge number of starlings.

Chopped off one side of an apple tree in order to stop it falling over

Carried books

Played ancient African drum rhythms to the Micro Gods of nice weather

Fixed a fountain

Pointed at many things.

So there you have it (dead boring), it has hardly been the sort of days that are going to improve my chances of the very nice Steven Spielberg showing any interest in the film rights and as I am often told by his lawyer . . . .O NO its you again please go away. The little scally wags that they are (I know they don’t mean it).

Anyway in other news my design for the MK3 Mechanical Spy Bird has been approved by the Canadian Intelligence Agency (the other and slightly less well known CIA) and they are so keen they have asked if they could print the image and hang it in the main office where they sit and ponder things. They say it will help them concentrate and stop them slipping over the edge into the world of ludicrous mad ideas that are entirely crack pot; the fine line apparently between madness and genius.  

It is nice to know however, that the fine line between reality and cyberspace has got just a little greyer than it was as my work filters into the real world in far away places, and if Mr ESB prints any Rob based clothing in the heart of Texas (sorry that’s the heights of Texas) then before you know it I will be standing next to you in a queue complaining about the weather and smiling clutching a rather well made pointy stick.

Ooooo finally I am creating a slightly rushed A to Z of Zombie based drawings of erratic quality and was wondering (assuming I get them finished in time if anyone else would like to use them, It is useful to have a picture for each letter and I am not going to sue folk for copywriter infringement, as they are all rubbish. 

The Funeral of Mr M and the Kala Kar

Sadly it was the funeral of our old friend Mr M and despite the fact he really only had the one son who could be there as a direct family member a lot of his friends managed to make it. It was an odd sort of funeral as his son has always been convinced that Mr M was a hardened Buddhist, but he was not really and would have been happy to have a bit of everything on the grounds that would cover all the options once he arrived where ever we arrive. We then went off to the after funeral reception where we ate a bit of food chatted about Mr M and the old days and some of his mad exploits and trying to work out where he hid the gold in the garden which he did years ago to avoid tax. Although doing this while being rather merry is a bad move as it then leads to years of digging holes looking for it again but failing.

After a rush home and feeding the cats we then rushed off again to team up with Mr Charlie and Miss Jane (who were also at the funeral) for an Indian meal in Montgomery, where we discussed many things including old bird cages and the making of small cardboard birds.  The last small cardboard birds were faulty and I now have decided to start from scratch again and make a Mk2 small cardboard bird design, although I now have to make twice as many as Mr Charlie and Miss Jane wish to have one or two for their cage.  They told the chap at the Indian that I am a great artist and although I agreed and said I was I also had to point out that I was a very modest great artist so I seldom tell people, he (the chap from the Indian) then said that I was a KALA KAR which is apparently an artist in Indian so WELL COOL.

Last night the weather was very windy and we found ourselves battling along some tiny roads in the dark as we were out visiting friends for a meal last night also. I know it sounds like we are out all the time having a good time, but this is not true as we are not out that often or my diary would be really exciting which it is plainly not.  And as a result of a bit of wheeler dealing I am now the proud owner of a big posh camera, the main drawback of which is I now have to learn how to actually take a picture with it.

I was also planning to tell you more about the conversation between the shop assistants on how to stab people and what is the right type of knife to use, but it is very late and it has been a long long day…..  

The Birds, the Bird Cage and the Hubble Traveller.

It was coldish today although not as cold as yesterday, this allowed me to leap into a muddy hole and also wave a pointy stick about in a moderately enthusiastic way. I have also started to make a small flock of cardboard birds and have some special paper to cover them in; this is I have been told magic paper and the small cardboard birds will be capable of flying once complete. So I have obtained a suitable bird cage that was taken from a Moroccan palace deep in the High Atlas Mountains by a traveller many many years ago and has been hidden away in a secret place far from prying eyes as the prince who owned the cage, who was not amused and threatened the humble traveller who ran of with it with a fate worse than death. I once went to a village fate myself that was like that so I can understand why the humble traveller hid the rather posh bird cage.

In a moment of rash madness this morning before my brain had entirely got to working speed I volunteered to stick my head into a sewage system to give my expert opinion tomorrow. Folk know that I tend to have a weakness for deep dark muddy holes, but just maybe I might have made a mistake as the other chap who was asked ran off screaming saying o god no not that one again. I will no doubt report back tomorrow, although it should be remembered I am no longer writing my diary everyday despite what it may look like superficially on the surface. 

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Mr M, Art and memento's, Memorabilia and the Taj Mahal

We were rather hoping that with the sad death of Mr M it may be possible to get a small memento from his estate, one of his small quirky little sculptures or one of his personal little drawings. However we have not heard from his son and the dark shadows, and have a feeling that much of the little personal things of no value have been destroyed or burnt. This often happens when people die suddenly folk see pounds signs and not the person, which is very sad. But being a resourceful chap I am now working on a master plan to create Mr M art based memorabilia using images from some of little home made cards and some of the things he made plus some old photos.

Ironically it may well be that lots of the items he had collected or made over the years; he made of lot of wooden furniture and small cupboards could end up in an auction in Montgomery where we used to live.

It was Mr S’s birthday today and so we have all been to the Indian restaurant in Montgomery for a meal, and jolly good it was too. Although Miss K did try and destroy the Taj Mahal (not the one made by Mr M out of special brew cans or the real one) 

Oooo and we have just heard back from the son of Mr M so we will see what occurs. 

You should really watch this it is rather cooooooool

Climbing hills, Art and Gazebos Flying South for the Winter....

Today saw the arrival of one of Britain’s truly classic events, something that has happened as regular as clockwork (we all love a bit of clockwork stuff) since the beginning of time, or at least the beginning of Britain. Yes today saw the arrival of a cold dull damp windy Sunday, just like the old days when grown men were small and small children were told to climb the chimney because it needed a bit of a clean.  Here in the rural areas of Britain this old method was very quickly superseded by using a chicken that would be lowered down the chimney by a rope tied to its legs. It was very effective because the poor old chicken would flap about madly dislodging all the soot, it was then often eaten for Sunday dinner, but although we still eat the chicken for Sunday dinner, it is bad form these days to clean your chimney with them first. I think it is still OK to send children up a chimney but it is seriously bad form to eat them afterwards and you will not be popular.

At one point this morning our gazebo attempted to escape by flying; now gazebos are quite good at takeoff, but lack any ability to manoeuvre with any sense of dignity, and quite frankly landing it beyond them.  I can understand that a lonely gazebo having watched all the swallows fly south for the winter would be keen to join them, but they do not have a natural ability at migration and are better hibernating in a shed or the like, much like a hedgehog. Anyway the gazebo now has a sore leg and will limp from now on, dad plans to fix it like new which might mean it will turn into an albatross shaped gazebo in order to give it a fighting chance of reaching a hotter climate next year.

We also went up a steep hill this afternoon to listen to the marches choir sing madrigals and other people playing flutes and a violin. Now some of you will note, this is not really the sort of music I would normally go to, but and it’s a big but round here they do great cakes and food so I was enticed by the thought of afternoon tea with loads of local homemade cakes . . . . .  I was not disappointed they were good.

As you can tell I have returned from the top of the hill where it was rather windy at times and now plan to do traditional Sunday Evening stuff in the best tradition of British life. Which is eat more food and lie about in a dishevelled manner on a sofa pondering Life the Universe and Everything. I will forgo the usual Sunday evening television however as it is probably rubbish and instead ponder the possibilities of Cardboard sculpture and its place in British art today. As Arty folk have to be thinking arty things all the time, it is entwined in the DNA of artists.   

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