Today, we engaged in an abortive 3 minute sketch-off. Understandably, I'm at a distinct disadvantage working within a skills base, for which fore-shortening is a historical marvel to be wondered at but 'neer attained. Still, dearth of skills aside, each time my pencil tip distorts, smudges and fudges its way through rendering an image, I do glory in a sudden startling (!) awareness of my own radically individual, bodily engagement with the world. The aha-moment of perception, perhaps.
Now: to learn to draw.

I spent the long weekend in Amsterdam with my aunt. 'Twas a truly lovely city, with cutesy sinking buildings, inhabitants sun bathing and chatting in front of their personal canals and Dutch art to fawn over.


It also turned out to be a ridiculously hyper occasion as may day combined with their Queen's birthday weekend. The boost in the arm that this already touristy and excessive city didn't exactly need. Koniginnendag (queensday) was quite the spectacle - masses on the streets, people selling all kinds of garage sale junk along the canals. But the highlight for us, was being put into the draw of a tiny alleyside artist studio's contest to win a hand-crafted, bling-as-all-fuck, enamel and swarovski crystal necklet, made entirely of crowns. One of a kind, clearly. We forgot about the draw only to walk past hours later to cat calls of "You! What is your name!". It was the first time either of us had ever won anything. The distinctly odd jewelery-maker then took a "glamour" (as she termed it) shot of me, startledly "majestic".





Yours, A winner now.