I'm having a lull. This means the annoyance of knowing I could be painting something, but the lack of real activity. It's annoying. Very annoying. What is going on in my head are fragments of drawings and ideas, wandering around like a bad film montage, under exposed and badly shot - so that what I want to see is just out of the frame - I just get a foot, or a wisp of hair. It's a mental itch that I badly want to scratch by getting it down on paper, but nope, apparently it's not ready and I'll have to wait a bit longer.
The upshot of this is that I have to dwell on real life for a bit - its everyday patterns, the social and political upheavals, and let my speculation drift over what is around me. In order to not go crazy (I mean relatively) I throw myself into sketches - you never know what'll turn up after all, and give myself a chance to read and drift into other people's imaginations. I do have a writing idea that I need to get down, which helps me feel at least a little productive - it's just the blank canvas is sitting in the corner of the room pissing itself.
I suppose given that the world stand on the potential brink of nuclear Armageddon, or at least (best?) a rather humiliating return to nineteenth century power politics, then this strange lull is not something to worry about - although to me it's my way of engaging with the world. To me when I'm not painting the world passes by with a lighter touch, so that I feel removed from what happens. This is odd, because I'm conscious that my work is not overtly political - and I sometimes feel it ought to be. I think this is because I have often felt that I shove my opinions too much into people's faces, and that because of 'who' I am this is counter-productive; I mean what right do I have to comment or to judge (equally I often wonder at the rights of those who judge also)? On top of all this I've always preferred guerrilla tactics against the pervading ideology - suggestion, parody or humour, something I think speaks to my inner (and outer, actually) coward.
So are there any politics in my work? Not obviously, unless the element of absurdist humour at our everyday lives, or utopian landscapes that fire up the imagination can be seen to be the rudiments of a critique of contemporary capitalism, which seeks to make us evermore efficient, and in doing so removes our capacity to dream?