reblogging dappledwithshadow:
9 versions of Morning on the Seine, by Claude Oscar Monet
c. 1897
“Back when, she could go weeks without anything more complicated than a pout. Now she was laying some heavy combination of face ingredients on him that he couldn’t read at all. Maybe something she’d picked up at acting school. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, Doc.””
I’ve now put the three prints I have made from the 356 project for sale on Big Cartel.
They are black and white, taken from super high resolution scan, signed and are on 160gsm A4 uncoated paper.
They are:



Do not upgrade yet to El Capitan OS if you use After Effects a lot. When working on networked files it slows to an unworkable speed.
I’ve been on it for a while, but have only just noticed this as I’ve only been working in Maya recently and that is fine.
It appears to be a major issue involving smb sharing and whatnot. There’s some people discussing it here.
I’m just downloading an upgrade for AE now so will keep you informed.

I’ve been framing up some pictures for the Southbank Bristol Arts Trail. I’ll have some prints to sell at chez “Orla and Chums”. Look us up on the website map (http://www.southbankbristolarts.co.uk/) .
“I generally have four or five books open around the house—I live alone; I can do this—and they are not books on the same subject. They don’t relate to each other in any particular way, and the ideas they present bounce off one another. And I like this effect. I also listen to audio-books, and I’ll go out for my morning walk with tapes from two very different audio-books, and let those ideas bounce off each other, simmer, reproduce in some odd way, so that I come up with ideas that I might not have come up with if I had simply stuck to one book until I was done with it and then gone and picked up another.”
(See also “This is how I read” and “the tyranny of belief in linear time.” (via robertogreco)

I dated this because there probably’ll be more than one.
There was a recent rescreening of 1978 interview.
This on writing his first play
I wrote that play totally without calculation. In other words, I started at the top and at a certain point There was a knock at the door and someone came in, and I had absolutely no idea who he was, who he might be, what he might say, and I let it run. I let it happen, and found that he did have a voice, that he was the Landlord, in fact. That was the first chapter.
The two visitors arrived, and I didn’t know what they were on about really, or what they wanted. They were just part of the whole atmosphere.
This on starting:
It remains the essential joy of writing, I think. You’ve got a blank page, one moment, there’s nothing on it, and the next moment there’s something on it.
Now if you know what that something’s going to be, really, fully and comprehensively before you get to it, I don’t quite see where the spring of discovery can exist.
The discovery exists in the act of discovery.