Left Marie-Claude’s party at 3 a.m. I had had a few glasses of wine at the party, and they gave out books of French drinking songs. Different tables picked different songs and to begin with there was more shouting of “what page number is it?!!!” than actual singing; then we all decided just to go for it and ended up vying with each other to be heard above the din. The evening finally disintegrated into a whirling round crossed arms jig-like dance till I got dizzy and had to stop. I was pleasantly disorientated till my car came into sight and I thought “oh no, not again”. I walked calmly towards the deer-related bump in the middle of the bonnet, not knowing which door to get in; I couldn’t remember which side of the car the steering wheel was on. I tried to imagine myself inside the car, turning to speak to the passenger to work out what side they would be on and reverse it but before I could come up with an answer the steering wheel came into sight. This is all Napoleon’s fault. I daresay I am not the only soul stranded in left-right ambivalence. I am glad I was not in Stockholm on Dagen H.
Lying in the bath I glanced at the steamed-up mirror and saw a face with spectacles. I’ve always been fascinated by anthropomorphism - "common examples of this tendency include naming cars or begging machines to work" - mainly by the seeing of faces or human shapes in everything from cloud formations to steam on a mirror.
As I looked at the face, which changed shape as I watched it, I felt frustrated at not being able to draw it. Maybe the fact that I can’t draw is what draws me to abstract art. I do occasionally play with lines that suggest human shapes but I often seem to take the standpoint of deliberately excluding any suggestion of representation.
As a student I worked in the laboratory of a cheese factory and I collected the used blotting paper below a piece of equipment because I was fascinated by the multicoloured blotches created by the chemicals. Rorschach.
By the way, the photos in the previous post were taken on the moors on the road to Muirkirk in Ayrshire. I have always felt the scenery was particularly desolate, and, again, it seems I am not alone in this: "With environs bleaker perhaps than those of any other town in Scotland, Leadhills and Wanlockhead alone excepted”.
2 commentaires:
The fourth image looks uncannily like John Lennon. Not a bad coincidence on the 27th anniversary of his death. I love blotches too. Like slurred speech, they surely are manifestations of one's unconscious!
On another note, I sympathise with left-right ambivalence sufferers (if it is a condition!). I passed my driving test with the L/R Spanish equivalents written in their respective hands to know which side to turn the wheel. I really can't understand when someone gives me directions using this type of language instead of visual clues. Describe shops and I'll get there!
Oeuf course, you must have the opposite problem, an instinct to keep to the right in a country that drives on the left...
wow... didn't know it was the anniversary of Lenin's death.. :)
You must have a lot of experience of slurred speech in Glasgow, with all the people there who drink till they are ... unconscious ha ha
Post a Comment