Art...!

I like going to art galleries...
My mate Rog, he's exhibited at the Royal Academy y'know, wanted to visit the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester (about 6 miles away from where I live....) and I've been wanting to visit every since it opened...

Traipsing around after Rog is handy, it means I can ask lots of stupid questions about what I see without feeling as foolish as I do when I have to ask gallery staff...
My favourite works are, generally, sketches. I like to see the what lies underneath...
I spent several minutes closely examining a sketch (Rog did say that is was by one of the best draftsmen in the world but I've forgotten the name...) when I began to see how elegantly simple the lines were and suddenly found myself captivated by the drawing...
It was only when I noticed one of the young female staff staring at me, that I realised I'd been gawping at a the bottom of a rather large lady...
We pressed on...
Here, in no particular order and what was available as post-cards in the gift shop, are the pieces I liked:
Four Boats by a Lighthouse. Gouache on Wood. Alfred Wallis 1855-1942
Heron Watching. Collage. Mark Hearld.
Harbour, from the 'Schools Prints'. Lithograph on paper. Julian Trevelyan 1910-1988
Messenger. Oil, tempera, sand and pencil on gesso-prepared board, with incised lines.
John Tunnard 1900-1971
Reguarding Guardians II. Painted Bronze. Dhruva Mistry. 1957-

Whenever I come away from an art gallery I always find I have one image stuck forever in my mind...
This time it was 'Crumpled' by Paula Rego:

If I wanted to see the same quality of work that's on show at Pallant House I'd have to travel to London so I'm very lucky to have this place so close at hand...

Manly Pursuits No. 7: Building A Raised Bed Planter....

It's that weird phony period in the garden when I know things are going to start happening very soon so I'd better start making preparations...
Linda keeps rescuing plants from the compost heap at the nursery where she works and brings them home to revive them and we're running out of space to plant them in...
I 'liberated' some wood from a house demolition and imagined a vague design to put in this space:

After much measuring, sawing, swearing and hammering I ended up with this two tier planter:

Now all that remains to be done is for the contents of our compost bin, several bags of donkey manure and some top soil to be added (Linda's department..) and it can be planted up (also Linda's department...)
The view from my shed (Linda up to her eyeballs in animal excrement and decaying vegetable matter...) just gets better all the time...

Fail....

My childhood diet of worms never did me any harm...
Kids are just soft nowadays...

Manly Pursuits No. 6: Standing In A Freezing Cold Pond While Linda Takes Pictures And Laughs...

The only aspect of my misfortune that upsets me is that when Linda fell in the pond earlier I was to much of a gentleman to take pictures of her (I did laugh quite a lot though...)

When We Left Eden (A Poem By Outa_Spaceman Being: 52...)

When we left Eden,

We left behind:
The swing on the sycamore branch,
The overgrown greenhouse,
Rusted iron gates,
The box hedges,
Yesterday's bleak prospect,
The smell of surgical spirit,
The glass marbles under the rusty wheel barrow
A dead crow hung in a tree,
A key on a nail,
An abandoned well,
An abandoned wendy house,
Shadows across the path,
The broken filter bed,
The lost faith,
The pet's graveyard,
The hum of the electrical substation,
The cupboard under the stairs,
The coal house,
The pump house,
A Halo of flies,
A concrete yard,
Imaginary friends,
And the quite peace of summer...

It's not about how you hang on.

It's about how you let go....

Wonderful World (a clear-out of my animation experiments...)

All of the clips in this movie are steps on the road to what's to come...

Turbot Wellington suggested I move away from my animation process, involving a basic photo editor and QuickTime Pro, and try something more sophisticated....
Which I'm down-loading now...

Cardboard Signs...

A new assault weapon in my war to liberate the human race from the consensual hallucination 'reality':

All of these signs have been strategically placed in my local area...
It's only a matter of time before the balloon goes up...

What He Did... (A Poem By Outa_Spaceman Being: 52)

From The City Folk Club

He stumped along the fetid towpath.
Carrying bits of broken bird bath.
He limped across a rickety bridge.
He mumbled verse on a wind blown ridge.
He saw a light and made a sign.
He tried to unravel a ball of twine.
He shuffled his feet by a moribund stream.
Birds on the wing were singing his theme.
His golden transport had been delayed.
All of his pointless flags were frayed.
He didn't know which way was up.
He got his lip stuck to a cup.
A wicked orphan set fire to his shirt.
He rolled around flailing in the dirt.
When all this happened non could say.
Perfidious winds blew the traces away.
Yet nailed up high across the lintel.
For all to see, that is until.
The clanging bells of Armageddon.
Rattle it loose four horsemen to tread on.
These simple words of execration.
I am the agent of my own damnation...

Sundry Mortifications No. 13: The Happy World of Haribo...

Addiction is an alarming over-used word in my opinion...
I'm not a Haribo Starmix addict...
Just last week I went for two whole days without so much of a sniff of delicious jellied confection and I chose to spend those 48 hellish nightmare hours in my shed weeping, sweating and shaking for totally unrelated personal reasons...
So what if I've taken to sprinkling them on my breakfast (lunch and dinner)
I can stop anytime I want...

The Art Of Miss. Ned Ouwell...

Lind ....
errrr, sorry,
Miss. Ned Ouwell is very self-effacing about her artistic ability and dismisses my praise of it, going as far as to suggest that I need my head examined...

N.B. Ned can 'do fingers,' surely the mark of a true artist..?

Manly Pursuits No. 5: Sitting In A Shed, Suppin' A Brew...

A spaceman in his natural habitat, at peace with himself...

Daft...

More honing of the animations...

Manly Pursuits No. 4: Burning The Evidence...

Now let's see them try to make that grave robbing charge stick...

A Quick Bit Of Hooting Yard Fan Art...

'nough said...

Animation Test Transmission....

I'm trying to improve the look of my animations...
This is a test of the things I've found out so far:


I'm happy with that...

To see more of the Difference Engine and it's little brother, without my framework surrounding them, why not visit Tim Robinson's site here:
Tim Robinson's Meccano Computing Machinery

Oh No..! It's Happening Again...

Welcome to Bognor Regis...
One of the brittle bones of the skeleton coast...

I find visiting Bognor town-center distressing enough at the best of times but when I start seeing the disembodied heads of clowns in the sky I am over-whelmed by true terror...

This can only mean one thing...
Bognor Regis is hosting the Clown Convention again...
(or I'm having some kind of flash-back..)
To be fair, the clowns are usually safely secured behind the fence, where they belong, at Butlins Holiday Camp, but this coming Sunday (7th) they intend 'parading' through the town...
For pity's sake won't somebody think of the children...?

On a lighter note...

We have frogspawn in our garden pond...

In The Smoke.....

Linda is now officially worried about me...


Taken from the forth-coming album:


(I've got to stop watching Quay Brothers films. I'm starting to feel infected...)

A Brief Interlude....

Hang on...
What just happened...?

More Qualified Success...

I'm pleased with these two creations...
They're not the way I imagined them before they existed but have developed their own unique....
....errrr...?
Something, or other:
The Plaster Doll's Head

The Golden Bowl

I had intended having another go at a verdigris effect on the bowl but decided against it as I didn't want to sod it up...

Outa_Spaceman Being: 52 vs. Neural Circus: White Rabbit...

The Jefferson Airship song from the 1967 album 'Surrealistic Pillow...
I haven't heard 'The Great Society's' version which pre-dates the J.A. version but it's on my 'to do' list....

All I can say of the subject matter is it's great to dip into but don't make it into a life-style...
(Same goes for L.S.D...)

p.s. Can't wait for the version of GTA with the 'Hooker smoking catapiller' in it...

Ongoing...

A quick round up of ideas I've been messing about with over the last couple of days:
No. 1: The Wooden Box File/ Verdigris Finish...
Not a racing success if I'm honest...
I should have used a darker base colour...
I stuck a couple of pictures to the facing end and started coating them in lacquer which didn't really work either..


On the up side...
Linda says it looks like I've painted a forest scene from the film 'The House of Flying Daggers' on it...
No. 2: The Atomic Biscuit Tin...

Nearly a success...
It's more like a biscuit safe in reality as I can't get the lid off...
So, qualified success all round then...

Outa_Spaceman Being: 52 vs. Neural Circus: Ghost Riders In The Sky...

By the time I'd remember that I'd intended recording 'Rawhide' this track was finished:

For lots of obscure technical reasons, this is probably the best of the current bunch of recordings...
Having said that, there's still some way to go before I've got the process completely right...
Any way, next stop Rawhide (hell bent for leather indeed, tsk, tsk....)

John Baker's VCS3 on Ebay....

This Wednesday I will set aside my dignity and buy a lottery ticket, win and buy this piece of electronic music history:
EBay Link To VCS3
or...
I'll just continue using this:
Le Synthe
Which just isn't the same...

Manly Pursuits No. 3: Painting Cast Iron With Hammerite In The Rain....

Another couple of jobs jobbed...

How Things Happen....

I have a china doll's head I want to reproduce as a garden ornament...
I set about creating a latex mould:

After three coats of latex I had a mould then discovered I didn't have enough plaster to make the whole head...
Not a problem...
I mixed up what plaster I had, poured in into the mould then hung it up so I'd at least get the facial features:

(I can't help thinking 'scrotum' for some reason...)
After de-moulding, I have a head, of sorts:

After a bit of painting I have something that Linda absolutely refuses to let me put in the garden:


I don't see the problem...

Linda's Discarded Drawings....

Linda is very dismissive of her ability to draw...
I'm astounded by it...
I found these two sketches in a pile of papers I was taking to the bin...

Framed and heading for my shed...

O.S.M. Ind: Wall Clock....

I've finally got round to finishing off this clock:

It's been hung on the wall of my 'lab' for around two years now and, along with everything else in the lab, is about to be transfered to my shed so had to be finished (by 'finished' I mean gluing lots of Sculpey bits of my own manufacture on it...)
On closer inspection I feel I should maybe have let Linda do the drawing bit on the face...

Sundry Mortifications No. 12: Woodwork...

I don't have any difficulty with large woodwork projects (gates, raised bed planters etc.) but work on a smaller scale needs a lot more practice on my part...
I started out making a cube from firework sticks I've found on the beach...
I measured everything carefully, twice, took my time over cutting the joints and I still ended up having to glue several rhomboids together...

Manly Pursuits No.2: Making Fire...

To be fair, Linda is marginally better at lighting the fire than I am...
I think it has something to do with the diesel she uses....

Nine Things Any Sensible Person Should Have About Them At All Times...

01) Articulated Boot Choker
02) Deafening Extrasensory Funnel
03) Granulated Horse Ink
04) Jiggery-pokery Kettle
05) Lapwing Mallet
06) Notched Offal Pump
07) Questionable Revolving Snorkel
08) Triangular Undergrowth Ventilator
09) Wretched X-Ray Yogurt Zipper

Tiny Enid in a Cart, Drawn by Turkeys....

Under normal circumstances I would have dispatched this picture, via pneumatic funnel, to Mr. Key at Hooting Yard but I suspect he turns pale whenever he opens the in-chute to find it crammed with inconsequential nonsense from me...
So, here she is, Tiny Enid the heroic adventuress using an environmentally responsible, and delicious, method of transport:

Outa_Spaceman Being:52 vs. Neural Circus: Daisy Bell (feat. HAL 9000)

The old music-hall song 'Daisy Bell' (composed by Harry Dacre in 1892 and probably better known as 'Daisy, Daisy') has a 'history' with computers...
It was the first song 'sung' by a computer, the I.B.M. 704, in 1962...
For me the most memorable rendition is by H.A.L. 9000 as he slowly has his brains removed in Stanley Kubrick's 2001....

The basis of my version is, once again, the Stylophone Beat Box...
I sampled a small music box for the harmony instrument and added a touch of Mellotron to give the second verse a lift...

Gotta go now, Linda and me gotta waltz...!

Update:
Now available for download here:
Daisy Bell

O.S.M. Ind: Decorated Wooden Box File....

Occasionally Linda insists that we visit IKEA...
I can, usually, manage to pass through the various exciting furniture purchasing opportunity departments unscathed...
I enjoy visiting the restaurant and the meatballs n 'taters noshing...
My downfall is always the 'Market Place'...
"Oh, wooden things 6 for a pound..."
"Oh, a throw (we don't use throws).."

I went through a period of buying wooden box files (I now prefer 'proper' box files) and have accumulated quite a few that live, unused, in the attic...

They're perfect candidates for some experimentation with finishes and decoration...
The first experiment involves a coat of old tea, a coat of iron oxide, some rub-down floral transfers and a final polish with bees wax:


That went well and nobody had to die...
I think I'll try 'verdigris' next...

Linda Paintings...

I was so impressed by the St. Valentine's day card Linda produced I nagged and nagged and nagged until she did a 'proper' version of it....
Here it is on canvas:

Linda also painted a bonus picture for me:

Linda can also 'do fingers'....

RailWorks - Ryde Pier Head to Ryde Esplanade

I just have to recommend Spongebag44's YouTube Channel...
His Open BVE trips are wonderful...

O.S.M. Ind: Clockwork Toy...

Taking a break form my musical endevours, I constructed a clockwork toy:

Now I need to find an infant to test it on...

St. Valentine's Day 2010....

We two are one against the world...

Somebody Loves Me...

O.S.M. Ind: Atomic Cake Tin....

I like cake...
I don't like 'tupperware' style plastic boxes....
I have a few tins hanging around that serve as storage for the stuff I can't find a draw for, some spray paint and masking tape...

I now have a cake tin to be proud of...

I added the obligatory piece of grease-proof paper (I can't find the doilies...) and some 'Atomic Age' transfers...

The astute will notice the absence of cake this is because, as we all know, the cake is a lie...

Outa_Spaceman vs. Neural Circus: Play That Funky Music White Boy....

Once upon a long time ago I used to go to discotheques to jig about in a frantic manner in an attempt to attract ladies...
There was one particular 'hit' that always signaled time for me to leave the dance floor and take a beer break...
'Play That Funky Music White Boy' by Wild Cherry...
I thought it was 'trite'...
Imagine my surprise, on messing about with my new Stylophone Beat Box, to find myself singing that self same hit...
I thought I'd record my own version to find out if I could overcome my dislike of it...
I sampled all the sounds from the Stylophone and built them up in 'Reason' (I use the 2.5 version...)
I then got down with my bad self and did this:


I think I may have a go at 'How Long' by Ace...

Sundry Mortifications No. 11: My Feet...

I've always had big feet...
As a child I did a very good impression of the letter 'L'...
During that period I learnt the following 'truths' from the mystic village elders as they sat outside their allotment sheds:

01) I wouldn't 'blow over" in a high wind..
02) I wouldn't need skis (water or snow...)
03) I had a good "understanding"...
04) That I wouldn't need to buy shoes, I could just get a couple of large cardboard boxes from the village grocer...
05) That I needed big feet to 'pedal the village bike'...

The last one caused me some perplexity...
I spent hours combing our village looking for that bike...
In later life I found several...

Collage...

During the process of transferring the contents of my lab (it was in danger of becoming an installation of things I've made) into my shed, I unearthed some postcards and other cardboard bits that I wasn't sure how to display...
25p bought me a picture frame from my favourite charity shop, two hours of getting the composition 'just right' and:


On trying to wrestle the contents into the frame I cracked the glass...
I think I rather like it like that...

Manly Pursuits No. 1: Sawing Firewood...

There can be few more invigorating activities to enjoy on a cold day than sawing up firewood...
(Whilst keeping my thumbs well out of the way of the bow saw blade...)
It took me around half an hour to reduce this bed frame to bits of wood that fit into our stove and, once in there, about 30 seconds to turn them into ashes...
BTW. To offset my carbon emissions I've planted two trees this week...

A Short Balloon Flight With Orchestrion Accompaniment...

Sundry Mortifications No. 10: Spellig....

During a brief period at college during my teens I had the great fortune to be taught by Mr. Grundy...
I had an immense respect for Mr. Grundy and not just because he wore a beret...
During his first lecture he drew a chalk line on the board and, putting a mark on the line at about a quarter of it's length, said to the class "you have been alive for this long" he then put a mark near the end of the line, "I have been alive for this long and that is why you should be quiet and pay attention to me..."
From that moment on I became convinced he was a genius...
Once, on handing back homework, he threw my book at me saying "you have an amazing vocabulary, sadly you can spell non of it..."
I'm not proud of my inability to spell. It makes me feel even worse when I consider the spell-check facilities on my computer to be some form of prosthetic attachment...
It's surprising then that I noticed this mistake on a sign at Hollycombe Steam Collection:

I didn't notice it at the time the picture was taken. I noticed it when I began making a copy of it...
I knew there was something wrong with it but couldn't for the life of me spot what it was...
As I was adding the text to my picture the spell-checker spotted it though:

I was tempted to contact Hollycombe and let them know but suspected I'd come over as some kind of smug git with far to much time on my hands...

Two Stories...

Story 01:
Having dined on a selection of cold meats with mustard followed by a cold rice pudding, Mr. Alfred Higgins Esq. pushed himself back from the table, belched lightly into his napkin and addressed his wife...
"Mrs. Higgins, I feel the breath of the muse upon my soul and must exercise my talent..."
Mrs. Higgins stared at her uneaten rice pudding feeling that familiar rising unease that inevitably followed her husband's now all-too-frequent announcement...
"Must you, Mr. Higgins?" she implored, her fragile composure in danger of shattering at any moment...
"Mrs. Higgins. You know I am unable to control the beast once I have heard its cry."
"Now be so kind as to draw the curtains firmly shut so we may begin..."
Ever the dutiful wife, Mrs. Higgins went about her allotted task whilst Mr. Higgins fished about in his undershirt for the bunch of keys that unlocked the gateway to his personal paradise...
His hands trembled slightly, beads of perspiration formed on his brow...
Reaching under the sideboard Mr. Higgins withdrew a sinister elongated black leather-bound case..
Mrs. Higgins, unbidden, covered the photo of her long dead mother with an antimacassar from the best armchair and offered up a silent prayer for her own salvation...
Mr. Higgins, his eyes popping, the veins on his forehead bulging horribly, unlocked the case, flipped the clasps, threw open the lid, grasped hold of his foul instrument, turned to his wife and said with a leer, "what's it be tonight then Mrs. Higgins..?"
"Every Friday night the same" Mrs. Higgins thought, "Every Friday night the same..."
Then her suppressed rage burst its banks, gushing forth, uncontrollable, unstoppable, the words tumbling over each other in a tirade of unbridled disgust...
"Why don't you shove your filthy banjo up your arse...!"

Story 02
Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn, natural philosopher, was a driven man...
How long had he been here alone in his laboratory...?
Allowing no natural light to penetrate his fevered labouring the interminable progression of night and day had long since ceased to influence his world. He no longer had cognisance of either...
He was close now, he was so very close...
Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn took stock of his eldritch industry, the product of many years of work stood before him. Half a beaker of foul smelling green fluid...

Screwing his courage to the sticking place, Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn lifted the draught to his lips and supped deeply then waited, waited and waited...
Five minutes elapsed, nothing... nothing at all...
Dashing the beaker to the ground he swore vigourously then, like a far off messenger running toward him at great speed, he felt a rising sensation overtake his sensibilities. A vast, overwhelming tide of horror ripped through his every fibre and sinew, his mouth sprang open, let out an inhuman guttural bellowing roar and he collapsed to the floor writhing in agony...
Darkness fell suddenly on the mind of Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn and he was still...

An hour later two red-rimmed eyes opened and took unblinking stock of their surroundings yet registered no recognition. The creature that emerged from the tattered remains of Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn's clothing stood up, shook itself violently then stumbled toward the full-length mirror behind the door and stared and stared...
There was a moments uneasy stillness then pandemonium..!
The creature careened and whirled about the laboratory smashing equipment and furniture in a fit of incandescent rage...

The door to the lab opened tentatively and the head of Mrs. Hilda Ingham, the doctor's housekeeper, poked through and surveyed the scene of destruction with mouth gaping alarm....
"Wot on 'erf is a going on 'ere?" she cried.. She caught sight of the beast, now stood atop the bookcase.... "Good 'eavens! 'Ow did you get in 'ere?" In one swift movement she was across the room and had the creature by the neck....
"There'll be 'ell to pay when the Doctor gets back an' no mistake." " Ow am I gonna explain a chicken getting loose an' a wrecking 'is room...?" "Still it be easier explained over a nice roast chicken I'll wager..."

Dr. Sebag Mayberry-Quinn, natural philosopher, swinging limply from his housekeeper's stout hand, let out a forlorn 'cluck'...

Linda Makes A Tea Cosy...

I don't wish to be thought of as any kind of critic especially when pronouncing on anything Linda has made...
Having become disorientated on a combination of hyperbolic crocheting and Merrydown cider Linda decided we needed a new tea cosy and set about creating one...

It keeps the tea warm and looks quite jolly but...
Tell me, what's the point of a tea cosy that's to small to put on my head when no one's looking..?

Feral Shoes No. 10

Another seafaring stranger stranded on the shore with it's tongue hanging out...
I think it's a sign that spring is on the way...