B o g : painting on a Sunday

It was then, when it was not quite yet 9.30am that I found myself already intoxicated on paint fumes + sprawled across the frosty floor of the disabled toilet- with a nappy changing unit cramped to my left + an unflushable toilet with days of goodness remaining in it to my right. Cursing myself for drawing the outline for the birdy-bicycle so close to the floor which meant painting it was surfacing all sorts of unpleasantness. So yes, it was then, that I realised that although ever fibre in my being was yearning for a steaming warm bed, I would so hugely miss finding myself in these bizarre and highly erratic scenarios [that in retrospect now, I wish I'd started recording a long time ago].

This was the day of my last ever OAM [Once a Month]- a mass volunteering day Annie T + me set up to lure in a load of people to come + be as barmy in the park as we were. I'm aware that once again I am the focus of the photograph - but it occurred to me that it might be some time before I find myself in a heart warmingly ludicrous situation as this with my work. I'm sorry Annie T to leave the OAMS to you, I hope they continue to surge along on Sundays in true steady stead.

I almost wanted to take a s t i l l of the movie we fired up on the projector later that evening to capture this day, snuggled up with a bunch of close buddies : Lars Von Trier's Melancholia - I don't think I've watched a more beautiful film ever, which is slightly strange as the content is about the end of the world. Reckon I'll be thinking about that one for some time to come.