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6 February 2012

Come rain or snow, in sickness and in health,

Ok, so the last week has been pretty horrendous for me, Monday night got hit by what was to become the stomach bug/virus/flu abomination thing from Mars. It was awful. So in my state of not feeling up to doing much or going anywhere I thought I'd try and write something a little fun and creative. The following is the product of my mental state thinking about open studios, what its like to have a studio/and the assorted cliches and paraphernalia you find in there. I'm happy to post it on here and share it with you. Pleased to say I'm a million times better now, please look after yourselves until next week. Enjoy!

A bossy, instructional, optional, observational guide to open studios

Artists, artisans, walking paintings, creative practitioners, illustrious craftspeople and makers of Somerset,
Open your studios!
Oil the hinges to your doors, your hatches, and shutters,
Roll out the used carpet, the vinyl flooring the brown paper underlay,…
…Underlay ARIBA!

Stoke the fires of your wood burners,
Unfurl your rolls of canvas, stretch out your stretchers wide!
Awaken your retired paintings.
Hit the lights, switch the music on, move out onto the dance floor(or do whatever you have to do)
Assemble your tools, line up your saucepans, your mixing pots and cauldrons,
Brush the cobwebs off your rusty cans.
Shuffle your papers then re-shuffle them once more,
Cast any unnecessary paperwork to the wind.
'Clinkety-clink.' Gather together your screws, nails, pins,
Then heap them into ordered enough piles into drawers, jars and tins.
Unravel your string, your wire, your cotton, your wool,
Sweep out your saw dust and your real dust, there’ll always be time later to make more.
Round up the ‘thing-a-me-bobs’ and ‘what-nots’ you were saving for a rainy day,
Mix up your glue, your cement, your plaster, your poly primers.
Stir-up your turpentine, your yacht varnish, your waters!

Now, pour yourself a cup of tea, then a coffee for your artwork.
Repeat process three times or more if necessary.
Proceed to smash crockery and store for mosaic making at a later date.
Ink up a plate. Print off it, eat off it, create several and line them up in rows.
Inflate rubber gloves, cook yourself a portrait,
Go for a walk, bring back five interesting shapes.
Draw a cow, a hillside and three good looking trees (please be discerning)
Polish some glass, cut some stone, wield your hands wildly
For five minutes.
Prime yourself, your canvas and your board ready…
…and, relax.
Remove any clocks, time pieces or sundials.
Time has no meaning here.
Unwind the springs and cogs and wheels to your inventions,
Fix the dripping tap but not the cracks,
Give the spiders’ free roam of your domain.
Arrange assorted mismatch furniture accordingly,
But keep palette and easel as standard.
Colour co-ordinate your rags and your brushes,
Wash your weary windows; let the light come pouring in.
Throw away doubts of ifs or whens,
If symptoms persist consult the following advice,
Oil the hinges to your doors , your hatches, and shutters,
Open your studios.
And let the outside in.

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