Monday morning and the festivities of 420 and Bradford Street was awash with new pieces from the famous and infamous of Birmingham's street art scene. Alive and kicking, but just not very good at blowing it's own trumpet. So, as an adopted son of this city, that's where I will happily step in and learn to play the trumpet.
I've been a bit flighty the last few years, but I'm naturally quite earthy. I guess I just have to balance the fact I'm really a traveller, who got a bit sidetracked for too long, with somewhere to oil paint, cook, dig and bathe. I dread to think how much of my life I've spent in a depressed stupor.
"I could have done that". The usual utterance when observing a piece of contemporary art. In fact, it's these five words that create the hostility and scepticism towards modern and abstract that we see today. Is this hostility justified? Only if you've got a reason beyond the fact it's within your capabilities.
I imagine driving somewhere in a van, France, Italy, the sense of freedom makes me happy, I stop off at a beauty parlour in some small town and get my nails painted pale pink, my hair extra blonded, I feel good. I by chance get invited out to dinner by some vague male apparition, I go out of curiosity, this is like tripping, I try to see what he looks like, Dennis Weaver in McCloud, crikey.
I'd fallen into a little pit of minor despair, (a big black hole, couldn't move), all energy had gone and I was feeling a bit hopeless, thank goodness a quick trip to the Smoke revived me. I walked lots, covered quite a few miles, squashed lots of errands into a few hours, it was nice to be back 'home' in the city with my boy, all be it briefly.