Jazz Green : fine artist. Artist journal, a blog, musings on art, an artist's perspective.

21/07/08 Art for sale
16/07/08 Of snakes and ladders
13/07/08 My life, in colour
06/07/08 Homes and Interiors
22/06/08 Go see, go elephants!
07/06/08 Shades of grey
01/06/08 Manmade in Britain
30/05/08 A modern post artist
18/05/08 No oil painting
10/05/08 One green bottle
05/05/08 Art for Elephants!
30/04/08 Rule of three
27/04/08 Found sculptures
26/04/08 This week I...
24/04/08 28 Days Later...
23/03/08 Of a deviant nature
22/03/08 Easy on the eyes
12/03/08 Seeing sense
25/02/08 About-face, about books
02/02/08 Green light, grey matter
12/01/08 A philosophy of decay
08/09/07 Castles made of sand
30/08/07 So much beauty in the world
29/08/07 Cross-eyed and cross words
28/08/07 Sublime Decay
22/08/07 Visual Distillations
19/08/07 Mishaps and misunderstandings
22/07/07 Art for offices
20/07/07 Smoke and mirrors
08/07/07 Notes to self
18/06/07 Variants on a theme
09/06/07 Solitude and other brief encounters
13/09/06 Vivid impressions
26/07/06 Perception, memory, insight
22/06/06 Curiouser and curiouser!
13/06/06 A show of colour
22/05/06 Passing Places - Part Two
05/04/06 Passing Places
27/03/06 Lost and Found
25/02/06 Outwardly, inwardly
22/01/06 Frugal Measures
22/12/05 Through a lens darkly
19/12/05 Dear Artist
06/12/05 A bird's eye view
01/12/05 Beware of banality
26/11/05 For seasons and reasons
23/11/05 It's been a busy week
19/11/05 A short walk to freedom
17/11/05 Strains, gains and automobiles
16/11/05 Welcome

 

Jazz's Journal
Wed, 16 Nov 2005
Welcome to my first ever journal entry.
This journal is an experiment in which I want to see if "blogging" influences my practice as an artist. Why blogging? (had better "google that term!), it's such an ugly word, which is why I call this an artist's journal. Today I finally grasped the logic of perl (the programming language which creates and stores "blog" entries on the fly), and all being well, I have ironed out any software glitches. I have also spent the last few days writing not painting, putting into words what I normally choose not to put into words - such is the need to be a visual artist and not a writer. Writing about art is a good thing - articulating abstract notions, consolidating mere wisps of ideas, questioning one's practice.

At the end the garden is a private copse, secret but alive with the squawks and screams of many nesting pheasants. As the days shorten and the sun lowers in the sky, this copse is slowly opening up - trees are baring their branches, allowing the sunlight to shimmer through to a dark and peaty soil. It demands that I make secret sorties into it, following the furtive paths of the many felines that use it as their hunting ground. Very soon, when the languid morning mists from the nearby marshes enter its midst, or when an evening chill indicates a sharp frost, it will be the time to visit more closely.

Today was also a day in which I found another treasure of sorts; a scuffed but very pretty wooden marquetry box containing all manner of very old sewing artefacts - threads, needles, bobbins, tins and thimbles - I do love the serendipity of thrift shop shopping! However, my work awaits. I have a painting to finish for an exhibition and have just considered the use of a very tarnished gold frame to offset its muted and dark tones. Maybe it was the influence of seeing the leaf-soaked floor of the copse illuminated by a crisp autumn light, or perhaps finding the many coloured threads and brass thimbles in a rather battered and dirty wooden box. Until the next time... Jazz

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