Monday, 12 November 2018

Not long ago I attended an open day on the subject of plastic. I know, I know, but not the disposable kind. Plastic is one of my favourite building materials and now that it comes in a thermal form that melts and sets at relatively low temperatures (think 62 degrees C), I couldn't wait to get my hands on some.

Friday, 9 November 2018

Like many Londoners, I live in what architects are wont to call a 'shoebox'. Since it's also central, that suits me fine. The shoebox, however, is part of a late nineteenth century terraced house that's built on a wooden frame. And, well, the floors sag and slope a bit. When I moved in, the slope in the upstairs living room was such that if one moved too quickly across the room there was a distinct possibility that enough velocity would be gained to deposit one at the bottom of the stairs.

Friday, 26 October 2018

Miki Art is in the studio today. Come and say hello, I've asked him to do some blogging.


Hi, Just got back from my favourite arts cafe. It's where I do some thinking and sketching so that when I come into Salon Crawford I have a plan. Today I'm flashing my Jean Nouvel-inspired Swatch (the black and white 'Once Again'). We're on the look-out for a bigger studio (think zone 1) and it can be a 'meanwhile space' so send us a text if you know of one.  X


Wednesday, 12 September 2018

There's something about autumn that turns on the work gene, which is all creativity is really: work. There, does that puncture the grandeur of the term create for you? It's ordinary, we are all blessed with the ability to do it, to work at it until it becomes second nature.


Tuesday, 11 September 2018

A small yard adjoins my studio (the studio itself is miniscule). The yard is marvellously uncluttered because of Fire Regulations. Aha, but at the end of the yard a small outhouse holds the clutter that would otherwise be in the yard. 
       Today I cleared it out.

Monday, 10 September 2018

Monday has begun. How can the mind be awake and the body still asleep? This could be the state Monsieur Descartes was in when trying to work out his theory. I can just see in my mind's eye Monsieur Spinoza thumbing his nose at him.