Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 3 November 2016
I could do more, but I'm not allowed to
As I sit here waiting for the phone to be delivered, I am reflecting on the way things have turned out over the last few years. The only paid work I have on right now is the half-day a week teaching a young mason sculptural techniques, and I cannot survive on that alone.
Before the financial crash, I envisaged going into my sixties as a smooth transition between the hard and heavy work that I have been doing for years and the lighter, more rewarding activities which would suit an aging body with an experienced eye better than smashing away at stone until I drop, but the world's financiers have made those plans redundant. I had made my bed and I fully intended to lie in it, but the bed has been stolen and a pile of straw has been left in its place.
I still consider myself to be luckier than the generation beneath me, who have not had the opportunities to even experiment with a single career which could be called a 'vocation', so have nothing to fall back on when the shit hits the fan, which it innevitably will. We haven't seen anything yet, and there will be a second, more catastrophic recession which will make the 2008 one look mild.
So I am thinking of returning to making objects which nobody has asked me to make, since nobody is asking me to make anything at the moment, but I can guess that the more wealthy may not be able to resist something which they never knew they wanted until it is put before them as an unsolicited offer. I made the above shell about a year before I sold it, and I could have made many more objects in that time, were it not that I was too busy fulfilling orders.
So maybe I am turning into a dreaded Art sculptor again. I am planning a trip to the Isle of Portland to pick up a 1/4 ton block to make this shell, 4 or 5 times life-size. Want one?