I've been on DA for 3 years apparently, & have as yet never used the wonderful "wacha doin'?" function, so, in a break from the tradition of Chammadaian silence, here am a bloog (that's like 'blog' but with a long 'oh' sound, as in middle english, or possibly dutch). My name is James, I am 25 years old, I do not have a job, I do art-things. I have been beating my head against the further-education-art-course wall for nearly 9 years now, and through a combination of laziness, existential confusion, psychobobbical instability and simply not knowing what the fuck to do, have passed 1 out of 6 years' qualifications. As the final leg of this academic year fast approaches, I have no fear of failing. Indeed, assuming I finish the essay on which I am currently working, I technically have enough credits to pass, as I have been working hard. I have certainly been more productive since last summer than at any other point in my life, having finally got it into my head that I really don't have a choice in the matter, I need to do art, I have no other useful skills. Hence I have applied for a degree in Fine Art & Illustration at Lincoln University, with an interview in 2 weeks. I went for an open day about a month ago & saw the art school, which is, I must be clear on this, fucking beautiful.

The next bit of Art-Things I will produce will be a tryptich of boxes containing desirable objets d'art which will be sweet & lovely, obscured, distorted & confounded by various lenses, mirrors & assorted opaque objects to represent the paradoxes of voyeurism, seeing what you desire & always being disappointed.

It feels a bit odd that I don't kick out far more presentable work, my DA gallery certainly isn't bursting with new stuff, well, ever, & I always wish I was more prolific before I drift off into some revery or switch the telly on, but I really do find it impossible just to kick stuff out, I'm an intimate planner & a methodical worker & I don't have the world's stretchiest attention span, which makes it very difficult to be a prolific stuff-kicker-outer. I'm working on it though, I can't spend the rest of my life bemoaning everything I could've, should've, would've finished which is now littering the floor in every room of my house. I need to get into the habit of seeing stuff through to the end, and for that I need to be constantly exposed to my own stuff, "unfinished thing!" I must not see, and must remove by dint of making it into a "finished thing yay!" & so be at peace with all things in completeness.

Or something.