In what was supposed to be a leisurely saunter up Chill Lane I had become sucked into a world of deadlines and targets. Often brought about by my own desire to get things done. I painted hard, tried new things, organized this that and the other, spent money I didn’t have, stayed up too late, watched bad TV, ate trash food, tried to please everyone and ended up feeling stressed, tired, unhealthy and miserable… and then came Saturday.

This day was a reminder that there is a world out there that doesn’t care what the hell kind of frantic mess I choose to call a life – it is just there. My destination for a day out was not glamorous but it was a release. The company I shared was great, I did things I wanted to do and that I hadn’t done before, I walked in my bare feet across the beach, I bought souvenirs, I walked with my friends, talked with my friends and realized what I had been missing and what an unbearable shit I had become – all consumed with desire to be the next big art sensation. Somedays my delusion knows no bounds.

It is perhaps an important  reminder that there is only so much time available to all of us and that the will to get out there and make every minute count is as important as it gets. However, I have found out that the ability to stop for a while is just as important as racing ahead at a hundred miles an hour. I don’t mean having a break for half an hour or sitting down and watching a DVD – no, I mean things like taking a day out to do something different, even if it only means a walk in the local park or a hike up a hillside. Just enough to make you understand the really important things. That the most amazing gift we have is all around us. It’s such a shame that I forget this 99% of the time. I’m sure I would be happier if I stopped and opened my eyes a little more often instead of being a self-centered, ignorant and opinionated swell-head.

How long I can keep this balance of course, is anybody’s guess… I suspect for a bout two days if I am lucky.

For now it feels nice to stop myself from disappearing up my own arse. I’m pretty sure that normal service will be resumed shortly. Enjoy the film.

I think I know why I keep my studio a secret place. It’s not some magical haven of creativity or a shining beacon of expression. It is a secret place because it is mine. When I go there I have no outside world. I have no distractions and nobody around me. I can close off everything and just be by myself. Sometimes I don’t paint – I like things to be tidy and neat so I will clean and put things in their place when I am not painting. It’s my escape route from the world that surrounds me.

I still get full of fear when I am about to tackle a piece of canvas but at least I have no-one around me to tell me what to do. I can’t bear that when I’m painting – actually I can’t bear that anyway. I like being isolated and cut off. I only have to battle with my own demons and not someone elses. Somedays I just sit on my big red sofa and do nothing but look around or think about stuff. You know, the big things in life – why bother painting, where the next latte is coming from etc..

The inside of a creative’s head is a complex one. The biggest issues I think I will ever face are those concerning value. What I mean by that is that on occasions it’s right to question whether anything you do has any value or merit. This has got nothing to do with how many you sell or how popular you may be – this is an internal thing that no-one can affect, it is a personal battle for belief in what you do and the justification for it. Ironically it is also what keep me going onwards – helping me to make new and better pieces. Without any self-doubt how can I ever measure whether what I produce has any merit?

Okay, so I know that it’s all down to the viewer and it’s all subjective but this is about the creator not the viewer. I guess I see my work differently to how others do – a bit like how your recorded voice sounds when you listen back to it. Occasionally I produce something I know may not be commercially viable but I fall in love with it and it becomes a justification for why I paint at all. Artists need those moments. A little bit of self-licking goes a long way.

In a fickle and fashion-conscious world where fads come and go it’s easy to get sucked into the mainstream. In many ways I am glad I don’t fit that mould. It doesn’t mean I have a bigger pair of balls than anyone else it just means that I prefer to stay true and honest to my core values as an artist – and that’s to not give a shit. When I stop caring, when I am alone in my studio, when there is only me and the canvas and a few tins of paint – that’s when the good stuff comes out, that’s when every piece is the best piece, that’s when I can attach value to what I do and that’s why I do it because when you get it all right there is no better place on this earth I would rather be.

]]> http://www.swarez.co.uk/blog/2010/06/new-studio-new-paintings/feed/ 0 http://www.swarez.co.uk/blog/2010/05/glow-in-the-dark-paintings/ http://www.swarez.co.uk/blog/2010/05/glow-in-the-dark-paintings/#comments Mon, 24 May 2010 09:46:03 +0000 Swarez http://www.swarez.co.uk/blog/?p=324 I happened upon fluorescent paint quite by accident when I visited an art supplies store in London recently. I have been steadily working it into my paintings here and there over the last month or so simply because I liked the brash and lively things it did when added to ordinary colours. It has the effect of bringing the painting alive somehow. So imagine my surprise when a friend of mine suggested that we see what happens when we illuminate a piece with an ultra violet light source? The result, it’s fair to say, was jaw-dropping and a complete revelation to me.

The next phase is to integrate a bio-luminescent paint into some of my work. This paint has the ability to charge itself up in daylight and light up like a Christmas tree at night WITHOUT the need for a UV light source. The new type of paint is made form strontium aluminate phosphorescent pigment and is currently sold in 7 grades. At the wholesale level, the difference is brightness vs. cost. There is a large difference in brightness between grades. Over 98% of phosphorescent material produced is Grade 4 and 5, which is available from dozens of sources. I intend to use the best, grade zero (V10),  imported directly from a supplier in the USA, they in turn purchase over 90% of the Grade zero manufactured in the world. I figure that £99 per litre is going to make the paintings expensive but when the light fades they will shine like the sun.
The video below is just a low res sample shot on my iPhone which shows the Day-Glo paint and not the super strength stuff I am about to start using. Can’t wait for that!

I’ll skip the boring and innuendo-filled details about Lycra and go to the bit worth talking about. It took a while to find a rhythm but I found one that fitted into motion of my stomach flapping up and down. I can see that 7 months without martial arts and even longer without running has severely hampered my cardiovascular performance. I guess this was a big reason why I needed to go do  some exercise, I’m sick and tired of feeling like a frump all the time. We all need to start somewhere don’t we? My instructor always used to tell me that the hardest part of doing anything worthwhile is starting it in the first place. How right he was.

I was getting along fine, I had a good selection of tunes pumping through the iPod and the sun was radiant and warm. My heart began to pump but not as wildly as I have felt it at rest ironically. It almost felt like it was saying thank-you for giving it something to do other than stress. Such a strange feeling but a good one. I ran through a park on my way into the town centre and picked up on the energies of people as I passed by – mothers and fathers out with the kids, other runners, old and young getting on with their lives – and recall a wave of happiness envelope me like I was being wrapped in a blanket of well-being. Stripped of the chattels of materialism and success I eased into a tremendous sense of gratitude.

I looked down at my legs and then at my arms, and then felt the sweat dripping down my face and the air I was breathing and remember feeling grateful that I could do this at all. I had legs that worked, arms that moved and the complexity and uniqueness of me was as uplifting a moment as I have ever had. I wasn’t just living, I was alive. Big difference.

I am lucky to have experienced some truly incredible things in the 8 years I have studied and practiced at my school for martial arts – feelings, connections and emotions I never knew existed. The intensity of these were amplified as I made my way through the park onto Cheltenham’s famous Promenade. Here’s where the ability to offer an explanation stops, sorry. What I felt as I stood, almost motionless, in the middle of the bustling melee of people, is something even a gobby word-monger like me finds awkward to quantify.

I broke down. Unable to cope with all the emotion of it all. Freedom, thankfulness, connection, gratitude and relief, and all because I put my running shoes back on for the first time in over 12 months. I may have only done three miles or so (with a little break in the middle) but it felt like nothing. I’m glad I had my wrap around sunglasses on – if only to stop others from joining my very private moment. Today, however, my legs tell a different story, and a painful one too. Can’t complain though, they will heal.

There’s something so insular and intensely personal about running – it’s a chance to shake off the pressures of life, a reason to get back to something fundamental, simplistic and very very beautiful – time for yourself. For me it’s not about how far you go or the time you do it in – it’s about doing it. That’s all. It’s about doing something before it”s too late. Before you die.

If life is a collection of moments all strung together then this one is getting pegged on the line right where I can see it.

Thanks for stopping by.

I’ve mixed a lot of different colours to achieve a good cross section of tones that really fir well into the spaces. Overall I painted seven large pieces and five smaller ones. I also shot a video of one of the largest piece being painted which you can see below:

The stairwell is a particular success I think. During the painting process I had originally made the three frames 88cm wide. I then went and used an unprimed 13oz canvas to cover them. Despite ample priming and some very tight stretching I saw the pieces begin to ripple and become brittle. Most of the paint had sunk through the surface and stuck to the frame underneath! Not good… So I stripped off the canvas and ceremoniously threw it in the bin, cut the frames down by hand to 60cm wide and re-made them, bought fresh Windsor & Newton pre-primed 11oz canvas and started all over again. What came out this time was something altogether different from what had been painted before. I decided to paint all three pieces together and bring a continuous pattern across all three.

Thanks goodness I used black on the orange walls otherwise you would probably never see the paintings at all. I’m having a rest for a few days, not even thinking about painting for a while. I think it’s good to walk away now and again. A week of downtime will allow me to get blog post done, do a few web updates and plan a few other things too (I may even cut the lawn if the weather stays dry!).

To see the whole series of pictures from this project please see my Corporate Commissions page.

I visited a couple yesterday who have a fantastic barn conversion and an incredible main living space – it’s going to be a privilege to paint for them if I’m honest as it’s rare to get a property that lends itself to large statement pieces of art. I also have a project at a coffee shop near the south coast which is nearing completion and installation. I don’t normally mention the private commissions much but this particular one is going to look stunning, even if I say so myself! In fact, I have taped the signature piece during creation and hope to have that one uploaded and edited before too long (it’s about time I got another painting captured and put onto You-Tube).

Oh and did I mention the trip to Atlanta in the summer? Well, looks like I have an invitation to go paint for a very high profile client but I am sworn to secrecy. Oh and then there’s the Dubai thing (no joke, honest!) which is on the back burner. I honestly have no idea what’s going on it’s all so hectic at the moment – what I do know is that I am shortly going to be launching a really exciting new concept taking the drip painting technique to a whole new level (to be launched on it’s own website). It ‘aint gonna be cheap but then it is gonna be jaw-droppingly fabulous (so I have been told by the few that have seen it).

Click image to see video

I decided to take a long, lingering look back at the past twelve months and piece together the paintings that best reflected the work I had done and the progress I have made. I think as artists we are always learning – whether it be about the technicalities of paint, discovering new applications or learning more about ourselves so it’s good to sometimes look back on the 80% you have achieved and not always at the 20% you haven’t.

Go take a look at what you were painting a year ago and see what I mean. When I look back I am staggered by what I am painting now, even though I remain pleased with output from a year ago. If we are constantly amazed by this kind of reflection then it must mean we are growing and getting better. I like to think that having your own mini retrospective is a good way of telling yourself you’ve done OK, which we all need to hear from time to time – especially from ourselves rather than others.

Click to read full post

I’m often asked how I paint what I paint. What I mean by that is what kind of twisted bizarre things are there in my head to make me want to consciously paint some of the things I do. I don’t find the process of painting abstract difficult, ideas happen randomly, sometimes planned, sometimes not. The root of the form lies with the ability to see something in your head, either as a whole or in parts. Sometimes I only see bits at a time so I work on those. Normally I am driven by shapes and colours and how they interact with each other to make new forms. No matter what artists tell you every abstract is an experiment. Why? Ask an artist if they are ever happy with any of their works or whether they have re-painted a piece because it wasn’t right. The reason is because it doesn’t work. And if it doesn’t work then it’s gone wrong – experiments go wrong.

I always stand amazed at figurative and representational art. Figurative painting requires great technical skill and patience – things I have very little of in my own eyes.  The principles of lighting, form and proportions are just some of the key elements in creating a representational painting. In addition it also requires that the observed form is reproduced in some way so as to be recognizable to the viewer. A person should look like a person in some way shape or form. With abstract there are none of the above. Rules don’t exist anymore. Well, I say there are no rules. There are as far as constructing a balance in your composition but that’s about it. Your eye has to be able to make sense of what’s going on even if your brain can’t figure out what it is. That’s quite key – the eye sees first then the brain decodes. You can’t do that easily if there is no balance.  Balance is vital for me else the painting becomes a mess. I’ll talk more about balance in future posts.

When I plan a painting I start with the colours. Normally I just grab whatever I can lay my hands on in the studio at that time. If I don’t have much then colours are limited. I don’t go out shopping for paint when I have an idea, I just make it work using the stuff I have got. It’s that simple. Sometimes an idea changes if I don’t have the right colours, or I go and have a nice cup of tea or something.

Next I decide what I’m going to apply the paint with and choose it’s consistency. For oil based enamels (my preferred choice) I rarely apply neat, usually opting for a thinning of around 20%. This ratio allows for speedy drying, maintenance of the shade and the ability to move the paint around without it becoming too viscose. I never mix colours together to create new colours – I always keep to my primaries as they come from the can. The reason for this is that I like to mix on the canvas instead. One of the key common elements in my paintings is the way I allow paint applications to mix on the surface of the canvas. When primaries overlap and run into each other they form new shapes and new colours – often in ways I could not replicate if I had mixed them away from the canvas. I can then add more specific colouring if I choose to further enhance the mixing process and produce even more subtle tonal changes. That’s the great element of control over colour – Its all done on the canvas not in a jar, right where it matters the most.

I have no particular interest in brushes. Odd but true. I buy cheap crappy ones like you buy to paint skirting boards etc then throw them away the moment I finish with them. When I do use brushes I really like to use the same one for most of the colours, not because I’m a tight arse but because I cannot be doing with keep using different brushes all the time. I also use scouring pads, rags, cloths, turkey basters, squeezy sauce bottles, wooden spoons, spatulas and other household implements.

All good so far then. I’ve got half a dozen colours mixed, I have some implements but nothing else. Let’s talk canvas then.

Sometimes I use pre-primed canvas on a roll and cut a length to suit the next piece I’m painting. Sometimes I use un-primed canvas cloth and prime it myself.  Depending on my mood and also what kind of painting I’m about to do will depend on whether I  make a frame and stretch it first or just lay it out on the floor. I paint a lot of my work on the floor. Partly because it suits my style of application and partly because I like to stretch a canvas after I have painted it. That’s just personal preference really and doesn’t have any real significance. I also like to wrap my canvases around a frame so that it goes all round the edges – you can’t do that with a pre-stretched canvas unless you carefully paint the edges, which I find to be a pain in the arse because I am a lazy shit. Part two will be about forming shapes and layers and applying colours. Thanks for reading this far down the post.

click image to read the full post

We all know that you can’t go anywhere these days without being watched by someone or something. We have become used to being recorded, taped and screened. All this technology is fine until humans get involved. This, I’m sad to say, is where the chaos begins – as I have just found out on what should have been an innocent trip to the local supermarket.

Now for a baldy like me the winter poses grave dangers in the ‘Jesus my freekin’ head is cold’ department which often requires extensive use of a hat. On this occasion though I felt man enough to go without, after all, it’s only a two minute walk to the local shop for heavens sake. Unfortunately my senseless bravado was stripped from me after about thirty seconds, resulting in a chilly bonce.

As luck would have it I put up the hood on my fleece. Excellent, problem solved. Next to be dealt with was the glaring sunshine which was suitably controlled with my RayBans. So here I am in what is technically a hoodie, sunglasses, combat trousers and trainers. I hasten to add that I also don’t look like an eighteen year old with an ASBO either. (Oops, there I go with the labelling thing again, sorry, must stop that)

No sooner do I get into the shop than I’m being given the once over by the Security Guard. Realising he was assessing my risk potential I lowered my hood, removed my sunglasses and proceeded to smile at him reassuringly. I picked up a basket and moved into Salads and Fruit. I turned round and the guard is following me. I’m sorry? At what point did I become a drug dealer or a thief? Hang on, you’ve seen me in here dozens of times so what’s with the sudden attention dick face?

Off to Milk and Dairy next, bugger me he’s still in hot pursuit. So I stop now and linger, picking up one tin after another just to piss him off. It worked. He disappeared for a few moments. Maybe some real criminals had come in or maybe he was due a break or something? Pity he hadn’t spotted two kids nicking a leg of lamb …

I didn’t see him again until I got down to the freezer section and faced the tills. There he was, stood at the back, arms folded, chest out. So I strolled along and decided which till to go to so he moved too and walked to the one I was at. At this point I should have changed to another one just to see him walk up and down again following me. It would have been like Security Guard pinball, brilliant!

I paid for my stuff, bagged it up and put my hood back up. Sure enough he was stood right beside me. I was ready- just in case we entered into a dialogue. He would have spouted out some standard company blurb about suspecting I had stolen washing powder or something then I would have replied with something along the lines of wasting everyone’s time and questioning the size of his genitalia etc… Fortunately, it didn’t come to that (pity). I left, smiled politely at him again and walked out.

It seems such a shame that the one item of clothing can separate you from good and bad these days and the label you are given accordingly carries it’s own stereotype. Even more worrying is that people generally accept that and don’t bother to judge one another on an individual basis. I think this is why we have become like we have as a society. Nobody cares anymore. I wonder if the guard’s opinion would have shifted if I had quoted Chaucer or asked him for his recommendation in choosing a good Cabernet Sauvignon? That would be to prove a point not to brag.

I don’t object to being followed like a thief, I object to being classed as one without even stealing anything. Maybe next time I will put a hat on and leave the hood down. Or I could put my badly fitted suit on. Mind you, I would no doubt get followed again – this time for looking like a twat, you should see how bad my suit looks! I think if that were the case, I would probably deserve it! I look like I sell dodgy used cars when I wear it, not good at all…

Click the photo to read the full post

It’s impossible, when talking about the techniques of drip or controlled pour painting, not to mention the influence of Jackson Pollock on the genre. His work is as controversial now as it was fifty years ago, yet whilst much is talked of the man and his paintings seldom is written about the actual process and techniques of drip painting or what an artist thinks about whilst he or she is engaged in their work. I will try and give you an insight into the technique from my own perspective, which is in no way linked to or copied from anyone else’s style or work.

How it all gets started

I lay a blank piece of canvas on the floor. At this point I know what colours I am using and the basic structure of what I want to produce. I can see very clearly what the finished article will look like. Right down to the sizes of the strokes, depth of colour, how many layers it will be composed of, how I’m going to thin the paints and in what order I will start. I spend a long time mixing colours and even longer on the thinning process, using a number of different thinning agents and in different ratios of paint to thinners. This affects how the painting will look when it dries.

Paints, tools and colours

Paints are normally oil based and enamel based glosses although I do use a number of different blacks in my paintings (including high gloss, semi-gloss and matt). There is something so final and cohesive about the use of black. I have been told that I shouldn’t need to use black but I strongly disagree. Using this contrast against every other colour offers a tremendously intense finality to my paintings and is quite often the last colour I introduce. You only have to watch my video of how Samson was made to see that principal in action. I normally stick to five or six colours, two of which will always compliment each other plus a white and black. I seldom use brushes, preferring wooden spoons and nylon spatulas. I get ribbed by people who think this is not real painting. OK, fine, you go do what I do and lets see how far you get shall we?

Application – it’s all in the wrist

I use an array of wrist sweeps and movements both forwards and backwards in each stroke. This way I can control where the first wave of paint goes (typically 75% of the volume on the tool) and just as importantly apply the same principal on the way back with the remaining 25% of the paint. Sometimes this is in the same direction as the first and sometimes it is in a different one. This helps me get a double sweep for every single application of movement (gesture). I control the angle relative to the canvas, the sweep of the wrist, the height above the canvas (which varies greatly), volume of paint per gesture and where on the canvas the gesture is heading.  I make decisions in a split second as to where the paint is to be placed relative to all the other paint on the canvas at that particular time. I normally work quickly when I’ve got a single colour to apply as I like to keep the motion constant. It is typical for me to take long periods of contemplation between colour applications as I have to visualize what the next wave of gestures will need to be, based on what has gone before. I mainly use an arc movement in my wrist to apply the paint but also use drops, throws, half-arcs and full circles. Once I have applied a layer of colour I choose whether to let it dry before applying the next or to carry on with the next colour depending on the effect I am trying to achieve.

The whole is greater than the sum of the parts

As the painting dries it changes. This is a very cool thing as the painting takes on an organic tone – it grows and morphs into a single mass as it develops. I often sit back and watch as complex neural pathways and junctions form as the paint cures. By carefully applying linear and balanced gestures I can create a complex layering of paint that forms interlacing sections that entice the viewer into the painting. Puddling, marbling, coagulation and rippling are ever present in my compositions, often only visible when you get up close and personal with the piece. I control everything and leave nothing to chance. I know where I am placing every stroke. It’s a relative cliché to suggest that the painting talks back to me but I have to succumb to such a statement as it’s true. I want to express the vibrancy and excitement of my technique in a way that connects to the viewer. Whether you see it as a whole or as a series of parts is irrelevant as long as you see it for what it is – a living, active and expressive creation of a collection of moments. Don’t place hidden meanings behind what you see, just let the painting wash over you.

Perhaps I get it more because it has an art theme as it’s narrative? Maybe. Anyway. If you’ve enjoyed it why not share it, tweet it or comment. Great jokes like these are meant to be spread around. Click below to hear it:

3 Men on a Bench

I don’t always paint on the floor although, as you can see from the picture above, it’s the only way to get big paintings done. There’s something very basic and pure about laying out a piece of canvas out in front of you. A blank space to create – there’s nothing like it. Mind you, I always find it daunting when I arrive at this point, even when I know what I want to paint. I’m always wary of what I’m going to produce. Ironically things seldom turn out the way I plan it in my head. I’m always surprised by the direction the painting takes me – almost unconsciously steering me in odd directions. Click the heading to read more…

In a bizarre twist, the process of building a frame, stretching, stapling, photographing and uploading the new works often takes longer than the actual process of producing the art. It’s worth the effort though. My working environment is very plain and simple – a tarpaulin sheet, paints, music and plenty of rubber gloves (err, actually it’s because enamels are hard to get off your hands!). I’m sure that as I grow older my back and knees will tell me that they’ve had enough and I can then look forward to painting on an easel like the grown ups do.

Making a mess is a great thing to do isn’t it? I mean, tidiness and order are backbones of my world but painting takes me away from that – to a place where nothing really matters. I just love to move paint around and make shapes and patterns or play with colours and the properties of paint. If you’ve never tried it then maybe you should. Who cares what it looks like. Just go paint. I have written an article on why I drip paint and what happens when I do. Have a look by clicking Chaos Controlled – Drip Painting Explained and let me know what you think.

The picture on the right shows a work in progress that I stopped to allow to dry. Often I need to drip paint over several weeks to fully allow one application to dry and cure before applying the next – it all depends on what look I’m trying to get. Sometimes I just spend a few hours in one go and am happy with it. It’s different every time which is one of the reasons I like doing it so much.

You don’t have to understand or appreciate modern art to recognise the most shocking thing about it these days – there is no shock anymore. What was once the bastion of originality and pretentiousness has become mainstream and conservative and, despite more and more media attention for the genre, these days the controversy surrounding artists has all but gone forever. To me, the groundbreaking times we have enjoyed have gone. Not even the sight of Grayson Perry in a dress raises eyebrows anymore.

Recent times have seen the Banksy phenomenon – famed for his originality above his artistic license – and to a greater or lesser degree he has helped raise the profile of modern art, irrespective of how he categorizes his own work. Yet his star, for now, shines on it’s own. We have the headline makers as always for sure but even artists with shock value and a rebellious streak have toned down their work recently to help connect them back with their public admirers and buyers alike – partly I suspect to play it safe during the economic downturn. It does appear that people are cautious about lashing out on whacky or cutting edge pieces. Read between the lines of the auction reports and reviews and you find some interesting undercurrents about the direction modern art is going.

I many ways I sympathize – our financial and economic climates are not what they were 18 months ago and we are all guilty of becoming a little more introspective in the way we conduct our lives and spending. However, I am saddened to see that this has had an effect on the art that is generally available. You only have to look at the growing number of online galleries to find that most modern art (I make references to paintings here) looks pretty much the same. Where has the originality gone? Who is the next bright star to shine? These are difficult questions to answer. Despite the profile and value of modern art being raised to a level of public consciousness never seen before we are still lacking that definitive edge between acceptability and chaos – the kind of thing that happened when Pollock unveiled Mural, or the outcry when Hirst revealed the shark in 1991, any of Warhol’s revolutionary statements or Carl Andre’s ‘Pile of Bricks’ that was bought by the Tate. I just don’t get that from anything I see at the moment. Like or loathe them they all made a statement, they all promoted reactions in us, good and bad. I rarely get that these days.

I too have succumbed to the problems facing modern art today. As an artist I am always torn between my own perception of what is good and bad. Of course this is always subjective as we all have our own tastes and opinions but my own output is rarely governed by what I want to paint. Those momentary flashes of brilliance ebb and flow without control yet can be difficult to harness and turn into something credible. Could it be that we have exploited all the original ideas and there is nothing left to discover? Maybe the future of the genre will be shaped into a more expressive and personal experience rather resorting back to a medium to shock and outrage. I suspect that those days may have eclipsed us forever. As our taste and education for modern art grows and becomes more discerning so to will our appreciation of what we like and don’t like and also what will be seen as good and bad art. I see certain works and sub-categories becoming massively popular – transcending the traditional realms of how we access modern art.

I would not be surprised to see artists becoming media real celebrities, not content with a review in the Sunday Times but splashed about and marketed like rock stars. Art is the new rock n’roll. A personal and expressive way for anyone to connect with something deep inside without having to download anything from iTunes.

As if life isn’t short enough we seem to have accepted life with menu-based phone systems as the norm. You know, the kind of thing that presents you with a series of options, press one for death, two for hell etc… Where did the real people go to? If I have to spend another minute listening to bloody Greensleeves I fear that my brain will turn to shit and start pouring through my eyeballs.

I’d love to be in the planning meetings when project managers and analysts decide how to direct people through the maze of departments they have.  I mean, who came up with the Voice Activated system idea anyway? I’m sure we’ve all had to experience these at some point or another:

“Please speak the name of the person into the handset”

“John”

“You said “Alison” – I will connect you now”

“What? No, no I don’t want Alison I want John”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize that name. Please repeat the name you require”

“JOHN!”

“You said “Alan” – I will connect you now”

Oh for f**k sake it’s not like I’m asking for Baron Von-Munchausen is it?. And so it goes on, one redial after another until the veins in the side of your head burst like party poppers. I can use my IBM ViaVoice software on my laptop happily all day and it recognizes all of my words, even the smutty ones yet some faceless, corporate bum-wipe in a suit spends a fortune on presenting the public face of his company and it becomes a farce. This is NOT progress people, it’s stupidity. He deserves a bullet through the head. It gets worse.

You will eventually get through on a voice system, even if you stay silent, however, the same cannot be said of ones that require you to press numbers on your phone. OK, so I want to check my balance on my gas and electricity accounts. Simple right? Oh sure. Do I want accounts or perhaps payment enquiries? Oh crap, why doesn’t the system give me an option for billing? Why do options to hold for a ‘Customer Service Representative’ come after every other option? It’s because the menu system is so awful at directing people that the only way to stop customers from imploding is to toss them a lifeline by tempting them into holding for a real person. Of course, the real person is only a myth designed to keep you paying 40p per minute so that this ridiculous system can help recoup some of the astronomical money it cost in the first place. The people who put these farcical projects together should be rounded up in a field and cleansed with a fire hose – just to wash away the thoughts that push-button phone systems were ever a good idea.

To add to the misery the worst situation to be in is where you eventually get through to a department and then get given a new number to ring. What? You mean I have to do this all over again? Why can’t companies put the right number on the documents they send you in the first place? How hard can that be? My posts get passionate about the faceless society we live in. This is yet another example of profit before people. For the record I have dealt with UK and overseas call centre systems and they are all the same. Hopeless, frustrating and rage-inducing at the best of times.

Oh and by the way, if all your ‘agents are busy‘ – get some more you greedy slave-driving retards.