doing nothing
Work colleagues often complain the weekend isn't long enough. They're obviously doing it wrong. Over the last weekend I didn't go out any evening and there were a mass of jobs I didn't go near but it still felt enjoyable and productive.
I may though be using values of enjoyable and productive not universally recognised.
Saturday was a little frustrating at the time. After five and a half hours in the studio I had broken up and abandoned three projects.
The second of my clay masks had been sat around waiting for decoration to be added once cracks and holes had been repaired. In the process of attempting to fix some of those holes and cracks it became apparent that the mask was actually too thin and irreparable. I broke it up and wet the clay to rework. The mask will be started again at some point.
I had also been working during the first half of the afternoon on a new clay piece that was meant to be the beginning of a series. I may return to this series but at present I've abandoned it. The piece was reworked into the clay from the mask for use at another time. The piece and the idea of the series were not much more than a week old.
Finally I've been making a series of sketches of compelling and interesting forms I see. I had around three abortive attempts to start making one of them. If I'm to attempt that again I'll need to plan more thoroughly and think about what materials will achieve the effect I want.
Having stayed away from the studio since then I now have a clearer idea of the next idea I'd like to explore. I am also much clearer that I will need to spend some time researching and sketching before I start making anything.
On Sunday I took a day out. I took a recorder in case there were any interesting sounds but in the event didn't bother.
After taking a ridiculously roundabout route to Chorlton I was about to set off from the water park along the Trans Pennine Trail when it occurred to me I'd never walked along the canal in the direction of Warrington from that point. I'd walked back through Trafford and into Manchester on the canal, and from town to that point, but had never gone further west.
Some of what I saw was recorded on Twitter. In a park by the canal at one point there was a miniature railway. The engines produced steam and were modelled to look like steam trains however they were powered. The track was more like a monorail and the carriages were rather like saddles across it that passengers rode on at a quite stately pace.
In a less built-up area further along a bloated dead sheep floated in the canal next to a field.
Most of the way the towpath was muddy. After I'd been walking for around three hours - having left home at half eleven - I left the canal somewhere near Lymm and headed north since I knew the Trans Pennine Trail wasn't far away. Around fifteen minutes walk as it happened. I then set off back towards Manchester.
I hadn't accounted for the Trans Pennine Trail being less direct than the canal so my journey home actually took about three and three-quarter hours. It was relatively quiet. Close to where the trail crosses over the motorway I saw a large fox walking along a ditch. It bolted when it saw me. This was an unusual sighting in as much as I usually see foxes in town rather than more rural settings. In a year in Manchester I'm likely to see more foxes than I ever did in seventeen years living in the countryside.
I may though be using values of enjoyable and productive not universally recognised.
Saturday was a little frustrating at the time. After five and a half hours in the studio I had broken up and abandoned three projects.
The second of my clay masks had been sat around waiting for decoration to be added once cracks and holes had been repaired. In the process of attempting to fix some of those holes and cracks it became apparent that the mask was actually too thin and irreparable. I broke it up and wet the clay to rework. The mask will be started again at some point.
I had also been working during the first half of the afternoon on a new clay piece that was meant to be the beginning of a series. I may return to this series but at present I've abandoned it. The piece was reworked into the clay from the mask for use at another time. The piece and the idea of the series were not much more than a week old.
Finally I've been making a series of sketches of compelling and interesting forms I see. I had around three abortive attempts to start making one of them. If I'm to attempt that again I'll need to plan more thoroughly and think about what materials will achieve the effect I want.
Having stayed away from the studio since then I now have a clearer idea of the next idea I'd like to explore. I am also much clearer that I will need to spend some time researching and sketching before I start making anything.
On Sunday I took a day out. I took a recorder in case there were any interesting sounds but in the event didn't bother.
After taking a ridiculously roundabout route to Chorlton I was about to set off from the water park along the Trans Pennine Trail when it occurred to me I'd never walked along the canal in the direction of Warrington from that point. I'd walked back through Trafford and into Manchester on the canal, and from town to that point, but had never gone further west.
Some of what I saw was recorded on Twitter. In a park by the canal at one point there was a miniature railway. The engines produced steam and were modelled to look like steam trains however they were powered. The track was more like a monorail and the carriages were rather like saddles across it that passengers rode on at a quite stately pace.
In a less built-up area further along a bloated dead sheep floated in the canal next to a field.
Most of the way the towpath was muddy. After I'd been walking for around three hours - having left home at half eleven - I left the canal somewhere near Lymm and headed north since I knew the Trans Pennine Trail wasn't far away. Around fifteen minutes walk as it happened. I then set off back towards Manchester.
I hadn't accounted for the Trans Pennine Trail being less direct than the canal so my journey home actually took about three and three-quarter hours. It was relatively quiet. Close to where the trail crosses over the motorway I saw a large fox walking along a ditch. It bolted when it saw me. This was an unusual sighting in as much as I usually see foxes in town rather than more rural settings. In a year in Manchester I'm likely to see more foxes than I ever did in seventeen years living in the countryside.
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