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The Importance of Trees (for Ryuichi S.)

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work (for Jon E.)

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3.30 am (for Henry O.)

END

That was a beautiful experience; in fact, beyond beautiful and if there's one person who agrees then it was worth it. Just about. Off for a lie-down to weep myself softly to a colourful sleep.

25/26

This is the last spread - one more image to come and then onwards and downwards to the next coruscatingly world-changing piece of art. Might throw in some randomness to escape the relentless lasso of 'form' and 'legibility'. Maybe a photograph after the last image would shake things up a trifle - you know, really spark it up to levels never achieved before.

23/24

21/22

19/20

17/18

15/16

13/14

11/12

It looks like the whole book will be up (or is it 'blogged'? - dread word if it is) by the weekend.
Obviously incredibly busy with a plethora of deadline-based self-importance.

The statements in this book are loosely based on a piece of direct-mail banality from a 'global seminar management project company' or similar that we received in the studio. Some of the syntax has been changed because if it weren't then you would all cry tears of gloom.

9/10

7/8

5/6

3/4

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Book project pending

A new very short book will be 'part-worked' over the next week or so entitled 'Why You Should Attend The Seminar'. Here's the 'cover'.
Hopefully, anyway. Perhaps I'll do something when I stop cleaning and doing the washing and going for walks to stop myself doing anything remotely work-like or interesting as all dynamism has been struck from my inner core due to call-centre madness. It starts with the over-cheery woman who sounds like she's bursting for a pee, then the dreaded music and finally the indecipherable person whose fault it is not when his supervisor say "no"to the sad and desperate pleading for an extended credit period.

What I love about non-print books is that you don't have to go to print. Mind you, I love Blurb, Lulu and the like.

Details of virtual books becoming non-virtual and for sale will possibly be coming along at some point or another.

There are others ready, too.

Recycled Tree of Wood (The Wapping Project 2007) 2

Here's another image. Photographs by Donald Milne.

Recycled Tree of Wood (The Wapping Project 2007)

This was a recycled tree made out of found wood around the immediate environs of The Wapping Project gallery and assembled on site.
Around it were 5 industrial fans blowing handfuls of cheap hdpe plastic bags increasingly added to the mix.
Many lodged permanently in its branches as they do in reality - I just speeded things up. The wood used is now being recycled still: plinths, shelves etc. which makes me very happy.It was big and thin.

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Books at Browns link: No. 3

http://brownsdesign.com/archive/?id=96&cat=7

Books at Browns link: no. 2

http://brownsdesign.com/work/?id=19&subcat=&cat=39&i=249&ia=0

Books at Browns link: What Happens Is Good/The Twinkling Of An Eye

Lo-res jpegs coming soon but meanwhile:
http://brownsdesign.com/work/?cat=188&id=

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A book is in the process of being something that will be.

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a brief interlude 2

This was for The BBC (self explanatory), art directed beautifully by Why Not Associates

A brief interlude - better than those embarrassing perfume ads

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Un-fascinating Notes About The Work Shown So Far:

The kitchen table drawings are all A4, different media on paper. I never really know what I'm going to draw, have a ponder and then do them.
Same for the wall drawings apart from they can be A3, A2 or A1 because my kitchen table isn't big enough plus there's more of a chance to get foodstuff all over them. Which, when you think about it, could be good - a bit of chance can be reassuring. When are we completely in control? Elementary mathematics and spelling are the closest I can think of off the top of my head. I'll try it after eating rather chaotically.

There will photographs and sculptures later on if you are at all intrigued.

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Bit of a Break AKA Losing Interest

Much more of my extraordinarily self-important work to come but lost interest completely  recently. This happens. Occasionally we all have to fuck Faecebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and all the rest of those mostly utterly boring social media sites and go through withdrawal instead of blurting out tedious self-indulgent subjectivity. Just like this. I recommend heavy narcotic abuse, dark sexual experimentation, flaneuring, actually writing with a pen and paper and drawing. Jay-walking in Dalston on crazy Saturday night is always a thrilling way to remind you you're still actually alive and not stooping around texting and twatting.
For some ludicrous reason, my favourite sites - although as I've just been told that they should be called 'communication hubs' - are ones that concern themselves with things like "Oh look, there's me holding up a pint of lager at a funeral." With the title "We all had a laugh but it's what he would have wanted - it was a proper send off." Or "oh look, there's us, drunk in Croatia, sprawling on the beach with our legs in the air, holding up a bottle of lager." "Oh look, there's my mate asleep with stuff on him and you can see us in the background  with our thumbs up, holding bottles of lager" "Oh look, here's my overwrought and 50% dishonest cv - please employ me and then truly find out how pathetic my work ethic is and my total lack of anything worthwhile employing."

Still, back on track and have a sneaking suspicion that absolutely nobody anywhere gives a damn. Is this because the look of the blog looks exactly like everyone else's? Oh I beseech thee to let me know but surely it's about the work or am I getting this hopelessly wrong?
Is there any point in websites?

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landowners of the UK unite!

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TV accidently sums up the extremes of human nature

Panorama showed and interviewed the perpetrators, witnesses, politicians, community leaders, shop keepers and the like last night on a doc that could have been 7 hours long but still wouldn't have got closer to understanding modern Britain's latest 'inner city problems'. There seems to be a major schism in folk's attitudes and opinions to what happened. Maybe The Mail and Guardian should have a fight. Perhaps The 2012 Olympics Committee should invent street violence and looting as a new sport. We might win a gold after all. Then we could market it as a game and put the enormous profits back into society.
After that there was an amazing Horizon programme about people at the cutting edge of telescope technology and astrophysics searching for black holes to help us understand what's going on out there in the known/unknown universe. Apparently we're entering a golden age of astronomy so I'm off to shoplift a telescope. See you on YouTube.

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Family

Two Drawings

Last Night's Official Report of The Dalston Kerfuffle.

11 o'clock at night in a boarded-up Dalston. People were marauding, loud, setting fire to anything that would combust, kicking in windows, police vehicles screaming, cops trying in vain to calm everything down, foul insults were hurled from both sides. It was, in equal parts, terrifying, hilarious, bewildering, sad and vile.

Then, suddenly and quietly, the Turkish gentlemen gathered and stretched across the street in a taut line armed with nothing more than sticks, bats, ill-fitting suit jackets, football shirts and an ancient warrior spirit. They then dissipated the hoodie/looter/anarchist-wanker faction with such nerve and power, it was breathtaking. They waited on Kingsland High Street and roared like animals as they charged towards the unruly throng putting the fear of Allah into all and sundry. The yobs soon fled to another part of London to raid more O2 shops, off licences, TV stores and Foot Lockers because "laak, dem police don' respec' our gangs, blud, yeah? Alweeys laak hasslin' our gangs, nat meen? So, laak, we deserve a flat screen, Blockberree and some treeners, innit"

As they quickly found out, you can't mess with a nation responsible for the Ottoman Empire and this simple failure to understand a fierce pride shows the lowly ignorance of the idiots. The cops stood back and let the Turks do their thing and afterwards, as our heroes returned, smiled in respect. All was safe again.

©2011 Paul Davis

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