Briefly

There is another lesson to be learnt here. I never thought of myself as a furniture maker. It grew from making strange things, from writing, from art. Never did I have much interest in the subject. If I entered a library I wouldn't look for furniture books. In a newsagent I would never look for furniture magazines. I was involved by default. I'm not trying to deny the past, just to understand it. 

There were other makers whose work I loved but they were in with a whole bunch of writers, fassion designers, painters, potters, bricklayers allsorts of creative people I never would have seperated in to different trades had I not had to. My furniture work took more from the books of Will Self, Philip K Dick than it did from furniture. It always seemed inapropriate to exhibit my work alongside other furniture. If I had been curating I would have been inclined to do away with categories of labour and put things together by subject. This may be why furniture shows are invariably incoherent.

Someday I will make some more Domestic Monsters, some more uncastrated beasts of the livingroom, but it will be a while till I have disociated it all from the context it is in now.

The creative journey will continue, I know no other way. Just how it comes out will be less self conscious, less aware of the thoughts of others.

A while back I found myself discussing what and who were artists. An artist makes visual images for others to see. An artist makes something where before there was nothing. An artist may grow from a craft, even one such as football and take it to new, unseen heights, to be original. That too would be an artist.

Art may also be something you can not help yourself from doing. It may sometimes be poor art. Originality is the qualification, not quality. It may be a curse.

I was told that to declare yourself an artist was vain. This also is true. Artists are vain. They depend on others for approval. When you are a child you draw a picture. This visual image causes your mother to pat you back, to lift you up and cuddle you. This feels good, You draw more. 30 Years later you find yourself in a creative profession. Still dependent on others for approval.

But there are other unsung heroes of mine. There are cleaners who negotiate their movements with originality and flair. Labourers whose deft hands and poetic hearts bring more music to the world than many painters.