Been listening to Warren Ellis’s ‘Three Songs For Violin’ and there’s not much more to it than that. Experimented with different sounds on the violin and loops, adding gradual reverb and gain where guitar pedals have been used for distortion. Only listened to this on headphones, but with the right speakers you might hear a drunk lady in the street telling the sorry-looking man how he always does something. Always.
To remix, I’d probably make the notes longer. There is also a resonant ‘glass’ sound missing, in my opinion.
The drawing is unrelated. It was at the bottom of a waterproof A3 wallet full of drawings of fat naked people. It might be the first life drawing class I ever went to after a New Year’s resolution.
The sketches were five minute poses from January 2014. The session was about two or three hours long, ending with a fifteen minute pose. It was raining in the Northern Quarter and all the artists who’d paid their twelve pound were getting impatient when this woman with part dreadlocked hair and an anorak came in.
The room we were in had vibrating plate machines pushed to the walls. By day, out of shape folk would stand on them, plug in and hold on to the handles while the rubber plates jiggled them into health or fruition, or something. You could see the life model was sorry for being late, smelling of rain and roll-ups with her winter-numbed fingers fumbling at her coat toggles. Trying to make up for lost time, without speaking, she dropped her Nepal pants and opened her coat, letting out a firm must, and marched to the centre of the circle of chairs. She dove straight into a crab-like, Regan-from-the-Exorcist pose, spread in all her glory with her elbows trembling to support her. Lasted about twelve seconds before the session host pointed to the chair and display she’d set up for the model to go on.
To my right was a lad with the world’s greatest job, designing lego animations for a living. He was there to prove his artistic abilities to himself, with everything all on computers, he said. He missed sketching. Think he wanted friends too. He was the only one who, in the twelve seconds of the model’s pose, had put his pencil to the page while others had just stared. He’d drawn medusa snarling in a cave. I asked if it would influence future generations’ lego and he just said no, repeating how he missed sketching.
Over the wine and cheese break, he asked the model if she ever got cold. The model, who had her glasses on during the breaks but not while working, said she always got asked that and that no, if anything she got a bit warm, a bit clammy, while I nodded in agreement, just trying to be affable as she said, with a touch of lament, how I’d captured her belly just right.