There's something extremely pleasant about sitting reading detective novels of an evening with your feet stretched out in front of the fire while the wind howls and the rain hammers against the window. It blew itself out over the night and the sun is out now, but it's still cold.
Went to dinner to celebrate Mr Couper's 30th birthday on Saturday night. An excellent time was had by all. I was considering giving him Black Bart (self-portrait as anarchist) but decided on a copy of my reconstruction of Piero's Baptism that I cut out and stuck against some ripped pink paper. I thought it turned out pretty well.
As well as Black Bart, I've done a Self-portrait with time machine that I'm pretty happy with ('no self-portrait too stupid' is my motto). I completely stuffed up Art is dead though and will have to have another stab at it. I've also got a head of Piero drawn up and ready to go.
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© David Cauchi 2001-2011
1 comment:
I meant to say earlier that reading a mystry on a howling wind night is a lovely thing to do. Wintewr is starting there and summer is about to begin. How I hate the burning sun.
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