ART: Caravaggio

Wow! Such a powerfully beautiful composition!

Mention of Caravaggio in a recent post set me to poring over a couple of art books we have on this incredible artist. I recently mentioned in another post having sketched a pencil version of The Conversion of St Paul years ago. But I’d like to try and paint it, as well.

But whilst perusing Gilles Lambert’s Taschen 25th title on Caravaggio just now, it was Saint Matthew and The Angel that really clocked me one upside the head. What an incredible composition! Flat and empty to the point of being almost frieze like. Yet rich with light, shade, colour and volume.

The rendering has the strength of sculpture. And yet is richly vibrantly colourfully alive. Caravaggio’s eye and aesthetic sensibility imbue his art with an intensity that I can only reach for poetically: chestnuts, leather, velvet, red wine, red meat, incense, lace or muslin, the scent of candle wax and smoke.

Incredibly dramatic!

In both St Matt and The Conversion the pictorial space, whilst rendered with surreal photo-realist clarity, remains so shallow as to be effectively flat. I love that! It’s simultaneously modern, and timeless. It lives in the present.

As many have said, including my hero, Picasso, the best art of any era is most potently alive in whatever ‘present’ the viewer sees it. Great art loosens the shackles of short-lived fads, or era-specific parochialism/opacity, and rises above time!

Details of Victorious Cupid, 1602.

Some of Caravaggio’s stuff looks, to my eyes, very blatantly homo-erotic. Check St Paul’s torso in the painter’s two versions of The Conversion. When the subjects are young male nudes of a childlike appearance, that can sit rather awkwardly with current social mores, and indeed laws.

Victorious Cupid is a bit icky, to me. I call it Cupid Scratching His Arse! But it’s still an amazing artwork. And just look at the detail in the lower part of the painting. The musical instruments, armour, and textiles, are like a somber symphony in paint!

Anyway, it’s great to be nourished by fabulous art. I am very grateful for the luxury of being able to indulge in such a hedonistic yet refined pursuit!

HOME: Malfunctioning Gas Hob Ignition

World’s best most exciting photo… ever!

Oh, but when it rains, it doth pour, eh? Today our gas hob suddenly decided to start clicking constantly, which I suppose is a continual triggering of the ignition(s)?

Sometimes all four hobs were sparking continually, sometimes one or another. But the clicking was, more or less, constant, from around midday or lunchtime, till now (9pm)

Of course I first tried solving it myself. This has happened once before. On that occasion I switched off everything (electric and gas*), and cleaned all the hobs. Cleaning can involve liquids, and liquids can short the spark circuitry! But I got everything as dry as I could. And, lo! Everything worked just fine.

* Or so I thought! Turns out I only knew how to switch the gas off for the hobs. The fuse on the main fuse board only switches off the oven and grill, not the hobs! More on this shortly.

Did the same this time, albeit ultimately spending much, much, much more time cleaning, but no dice. No change whatsoever! Clicking and firing continued unabated. Every now and again it’d lessen or stop. Only to start all over again.

World’s most thrilling video… awesome!

Anyway, having gone back and forth, Googling the issue, and trying very hard to really clean out all the parts – the hobs comprise three components, plus the little (ceramic?) ignition ‘nipples’ – hoping it all might eventually dry out or summat, and stop firing, it was all to no avail.

I called a Gas Safe engineer at about 8.30pm. He arrived around 9.20pm. He determined we had no gas leaks. He also helped me identify the correct power socket for the hobs. I thought I’d done so. But apparently not. Whatever it was I’d found, it was the wrong power outlet!

Once the right power source had been identified, it became apparent that it did (the other lead/wall socket didn’t) have a switch. Mercifully, when this was flipped, the eternal and infernal clicking finally stopped.

I have strong memories of recently packing away another four-hob cooker top. I think with a view to eventually installing it in our mooted Hobbit Hole guest accommodation? I tried to locate that today. But failed! We have way too much stuff, and way too little storage, so most of our stuff is in a cluttered state of disarray.

I wonder, should I find it, would it even fit?

MY GAY HEROES, #1: Richard Locke

Robert Adams and Richard Locke in Forbidden Letters.

This interview is great. Richard Locke talking to a lady interviewer about love. Locke really was, at least to my way of seeing things, a pretty major dude.

I first came across him (sorry!) in a period of interest in retro gay porn, as the star of Kansas City Trucking. And I then tried to learn more about him.

He seemed quite interesting; living in the desert in a geodesic dome, a la Buck Fuller.

ART: 17th C. Dutch Genre Painting – Baburen, The Procuress

These go back to 2014! Nine years ago.

When I found these two art works recently, whilst putting yet more stuff into our attic, I brought them down, to have a fresh look at ‘em. And I’m pleased with how they look.

The pencil drawing was my first look at reproducing Dirck van Baburen’s The Procuress. I actually chose to leave the Procuress herself out of the picture, which also changed the overall format of the piece (from off square to a portrait type rectangle). Instead we have just the young dandy and his lute-plucking lady.

A terrific book! And the source of this project.

I found van Baburen’s The Procuress in this rather lovely book. It’s an old’un, but a good’un! My mum had a copy back when’s he did her degree. I think I’ve posted about this book here before? But I’ve not found that post, so can’t link to it yet!

16-18th, April, 2014.

Here they are individually, for a bit of a closer look. The pencil drawing is finished. But the oil stalled before completion. So I need to finish that off.

These two pieces are both for sale, should anyone want either. The pencil drawing for £89, and the oil painting for £239. That’s unframed. I can frame them as well, if required. Or a buyer could do it themselves.

Woman Holding Scales, Vermeer, 1664.

I’m planning to do more in this line, as I enjoy it, and it teaches me a lot. I have a few favourite paintings I’ve long wanted to reproduce, such as Vermeer’s Woman Holding Balance, and Caravaggio’s very theatrical St Paul.

Caravaggio’s dramatic vision of St Paul.
Together again. Indoors this time.

The first three pics of my efforts, further up this post, were taken outside in the sunshine. These last were shot indoors. But all the pics in this (and almost all my blog posts) are taken on my iPhone. So, hardly pro/ideal! But hopefully they get the idea across?

HOME & GARDEN/HEALTH & WELLBEiNG: Bad/Good Friday!?

Out in the garden. Lovely day!

Phew! What a bonkers day. I had another meltdown today. Outright panick is starting to kick in, occasionally. Not good!

A brief break from home and ‘my shit’ seems a basic medical necessity to me, right now. But our one night away, that we’ve been looking for’ard to for a while (to join in the celebrations of Teresa’s cousin’s wedding), Monday/Tuesday next week, has – like all our other forlorn attempts at holidays in the last four-plus years – fallen through. This time due to not having a road legal car available.

Quite aside from the crap that’s at the root of recent depressions, meltdowns and whatnot, the trip away issues are enough right now to send me über the edge. But sadly communications with my mum have been less than ideal for some time. And, on occasion recently, have gotten worse.

Ouch! Two very sore toes…

This last development, in a series of straws that have been conspiring to break this camel’s back, really knocked the stuffing out of me. And today that, and the failure to find a way to get to this wedding – plus everything else, frankly – just got to be too much.

So I had a bit of meltdown! Shouting, or rather screaming, as loud as I could, and hurling stuff around. Oh dear! In fact I’ve injured my right foot. Something I only realised much later, when having a bath: ‘Oh, right… that’s why my right foot has been feeling a bit odd all day!?’ I must’ve kicked something quite hard!

Perhaps my recent minor dalliance with Tears For Fears, via Scary Pockets sublime reworking of Everybody Wants A Gladstone Bag, has a deeper meaning for me? They were big into Papa Panov, or whatever his name was (Janov?), the Primal Scream dude. Hence Shout:

Well, having vented a bit, and despite all the shizzle not going away, Teresa and I got a fair amount done. We were originally due to be at Hannah’s today. Whilst we’ve loved and will miss looking after Ali and Sofi – Hannah starts a new job soon, with different hours – being at home this time was actually good from several perspectives, including the vantage point of just getting stuff done.

Utterly against my wishes, we’re preparing to let our spare room. Because needs must. It has functioned mostly as a dumping ground in recent years. Occasionally I’ve done some model-making type hobby stuff in there. But now we’re clearing it out, tarting it up. And, hopefully (!?)* we’ll be generating income with it soon.

* The irony here being that I really don’t to be sharing our home with strangers. But as already stated, needs must.

In order to blitz the guest or blue room clean – numerous previous attempts had failed! – I had to basically do a mega-dump (chortle!), out of it, and into any space nearby. Which meant dumping tons of stuff on the bed, in our bedroom. The blue room is still full of stuff that needs removing before we can think of letting it.

We put up some art, and a mirror.

Anyway, we got a lot of stuff out of the blue room, and a good deal of that either up in’t loft, or elsewhere. A fairly large chunk of art related gubbins is migrating towards the ‘new’ art-studio.

This latter is in fact the old shed/workshop. And it’s humongously cluttered, and in flux, as stuff is moved out, in turn, to the newer bigger workshop.

Teresa n’ Chester enjoy quality time, dans le jardin.

MiSC: Fucked Up Plans/No Holidays

For breakfast, lunch, dinner: shit sandwich.

Since the ‘year of Covid’, now just over three years ago – lockdown kicked in, March 23, 2020 – Teresa and I have not had much in the way of holiday.

The only real break we’ve had – and by break or holiday I’m talking specifically about time away from home – was a short family trip (four or five nights?) to Wales, in October, 2022. The only reason that one actually happened, as opposed to all our cancelled plans, was that Simon and Claire paid for it. We just had to get there.

Every single break – mostly just one or two nights away – that we’ve attempted to take (and there have been precious few, four or five attempts, perhaps?) has had to be cancelled. Except for one or two occasions – like now – when lack of transportation added to our problems, this has been solely due to lack of funds.

The latest in this small but frustrating string of disappointments is a night away this Monday coming, for Teresa’s cousins’ wedding. On this occasion the chief reason is no wheels (my car is in for repairs; and we’re getting it back later than anticipated).

To add insult to injury, we usually lose a bit of money when cancelling our AirB&B reservations. Plus we have to beg the host not to blacklist us as bad AirB&B folk!

We can’t afford car hire or public transport. I’ve asked family and friends (the latter via Facebook) if anyone has a vehicle we could borrow. No dice.

A Broon tsunami continues to inundate us.

Life can be proper shit sometimes!

POETRY: Ashes & Dust (7/4/‘23)

Ashes and dust
ground out of obsidian
Finer than pollen
blunted and broken.

Ashes and dust
a crust on your soul
Shatter the yoke
reclaim control.

Ashes and dust
windblown, blind and worn
Hang out your troubles
tattered and torn.

Ashes and dust
the shell starts to crack
Scatter like smoke
surrender control.

MUSiC: Epiphanies

I think I might’ve posted this video before. Regardless, I’d be happy to post it many more times. How many more times? As Led Zep once asked! Who knows?

Anyone reading my recent posts will know I’ve been having a tough time. Amidst such travails, a blissful musical epiphany is a welcome and unexpected thing. But, whatever (or why-ever, or ‘wherefore’ as Shakey’s Romeo puts it), it happened!

I’ve had a few over the years. And what I’m calling an epiphany some might call some form of meltdown, perhaps? I had a very memorable one dancing around a pal’s living room to Santana and McLaughlin’s Life Divine, way back, in my mid to late teens.

This one came over me whilst drumming to Scary Pockets’ amazing re-envisioning of Tears For Fears greatest track, Everybody Wants To Rule The World. It was partly a spliff, taking my consciousness out of its usual ruts. But it was more the act of drumming, and freely and passionately, that really popped the lid off.

Just as with my pogoing-round-the-lounge to Devadip and Mahavishnu, it was very largely purely eargasmic; a response to music that mainlines to my pysche. But it’s also partly loosening the shackles on some part or parts of myself.

And on both of these occasions I wept like a gale! What I feel this tells me is that I have a lot of feeling(s) within me, that need to find proper outlets. This kind of moment reconnects me with that feeling of freedom and transcendence that great art can sometimes provide.

And with music, as a collective thing, there is sometimes that blissful synergy that can make one feel so connected to others, spiritually. Which, in a world so relentlessly materialist it frequently grinds one’s soul to ashes and dust, is refreshing.

RANT: NHS 111 is a Sick Joke, NHS 111 option 2 is Fuckin’ Beyond Execrable!!!

I’m having a mental health crisis. not because I’m some kind of lame ass wuss who cannae tek’ the pressure. But because nobody can take pressure past a certain point.

I’m well past that point. And I’m looking for help. Naturally I’m trying via my GP. But it’s a month – to the frickin’ day – since I hit a meltdown crisis point. And despite trying a whole alphabet soup of organisations, I’m not getting any help.

A whole FUCKING MONTH!!! And nothing has been done. Despite repeated calls to my GP, NHS 111 (option 2*), and a host of other organisations.

* As I type this I’ve passed twenty minutes in a queue. What does this daily experience teach me? That I am utterly worthless in the eyes of society. And why am I utterly worthless – along with all the other schmucks subjected to this living hell – because I’ve already been taxed to oblivion, and overcharged beyond credulity, and there’s nothing left for the vultures.

I’m beyond despair. Entering into the territory of rage.

I finally passed the 40 minutes mark, and hung up. I’m growing ever more certain that people will have topped themselves in that queue! It’s beyond fucking unbelievable.

TECH: iPhone Apps are Doing My Head In!

Gaaah!!!

So, not only do I have some weird conflict between WordPress and Jetpack, that’s stopping me from posting here as I normally would. I also have issues with apps on my iPhone.

What happened was that I wanted several apps that were in folders just out on ‘the desktop’, so to speak. I used the ‘remove folder‘ function. This appeared to suggest that the folder would go but the apps would stay.

Uh-uh. Both folder and apps (or at least app icons) disappeared. So I re-downloaded one of these apps, an FTP thing. But although it shows here:

… it doesn’t show on any of the several screens worth of what I’m calling my ‘desktop’:

If anybody should chance upon this post who knows what’s gannin’ on, leek, could they enlighten me… pretty please!?