Saturday, 11 December 2010

not books

I reckon I must have kept notebooks from about the age of 13 until a couple of years ago. Somehow at that point a personal notebook seemed less important. Maybe these blog things were the surrogate. Anyhow, I still find these things knocking about occassionally and flick through them. (Before sticking them in the bin. I know. It's brutal. Creative destruction.)

Unfortunately, they don't have the comic cringe factor of Richard Herring's adolescent notebooks so I can't make a stand-up career out of reading them. They do contain the odd gem in them. One thing I always did was draw. Not from real life but instead of painting, photographs or by pausing a DVD and drawing the still. I liked the way which a picture or a piece of art revealed itself when you forced your hand and eye to follow it.

Then a bit later in my notebooks there are lots of these.

guides from the darkroom. Hours spent mucking about: burning and dodging.

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