DIGITAL DISASTER

struck on Christmas eve: my beloved iMac desktop computer decided it was time to leave me, after eight years of more or less blissful co-existence. With no warning, not even a goodbye note, he just went dark, kaputt, finito. With all my precious software programmes, files etc. (not lately backed up). I won't know the extent of the damage until I can take the carcass to the Apple gods' headquarters after New Year's day but until then I'm warily typing this on a laptop which may crash any minute.
So a hasty Happy New Year everyone and please wish me digital and analogue luck, in abundance.

IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR

when all the shopping and wrapping, unwrapping, consuming and partying is contrasted, in less visible ways, by acts of kindness, generosity, helpfulness and good will towards those who have nothing to celebrate, those whose lives are a daily battle against hunger, cold, loneliness, fear, pain, prejudice, abuse, exclusion, oppression. 

So my Christmas image is a madonna and child but you can also read it as a spirit of compassion for the children and the old and all those of any age who are at this moment suffering, everywhere on this planet, even in privileged societies like ours. My hope is that there will come a time when universal compassion is the big name in lights and the most valued gift is the one of loving attention to those who have never received it. 

 

FAME IN KENTISH TOWN

For the benefit of those who are not local, Kentish Town is the characterful North London neighbourhood where I live (to be precise, I'm on the border between it and Tufnell Park). We locals are blessed to have neighbourliness and character in abundance and one proof of this is the daily online and on-paper magazine, The Kentish Towner, edited by Stephen Emms and Tom Kihl. I'm especially delighted by it today because my exhibition is mentioned. They interviewed me last October here.

See, I can be a frequent blogger when it comes to boasting.

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INFREQUENT BLOGGER'S GUILT

Of all the forms of guilt, some of them perfectly legitimate, feeling guilty for not blogging often enough is possibly the most absurd. It demonstrates an inflated view of one's own importance and also, since the creation and upkeep of a blog is entirely self-determined, there are no rules dictating what the correct blogging frequency must be. Neverthless, guilt is what I feel and I am apologising, in a roundabout way, for a blogging blank of seventeen days. My excuse is having been otherwise engaged, busy with things which take priority over posting blogs and reading blogs. Of course everyone is always otherwise engaged yet it is such a joy when you, dear loyal readers, take the time to stop by here and leave some words, a signal that we are connecting, however briefly. Maybe my guilt is mainly a sense of neglecting friends, interrupting a cyber-flow of friendship. Perhaps that's an illusion or delusion but it's one worth nurturing. 

The private view at Café Rustique on December 1st was well attended and the small space cheefully filled, as you can see in the photo below, taken by the café owner on his phone. The low lighting and terra cotta coloured walls create an intimate ambiance which suits the pieces I'm showing but on normal working days, café customers are intently focused on their laptops and rarely look up at the walls. Still, I'm glad to see these works away from home.

 

Amidst the sadness at Mandela's departure, the thought struck me that he was one of three extraordinary men of our time who created tidal waves of positive transformation and inspiration which will not cease to transform and inspire future generations: Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi. Is it a coincidence that these three men were not white? Perhaps a coincidence, perhaps a signpost that the only colour which truly matters in human relations is the incandescent light of truth and compassion, radiating from the heart and the conscience.

 
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