It was inevitable that the schedule would reach the point where you have to laugh or else you'd cry. Well, I'm not crying yet, but I'm not sure that it's possible to do all the things I've valiantly written on my 'to do' list before the exhibition goes up on Thursday. Well, not if I want to spend some time with my beloved or to sleep, that is.
Today I took the decision to stop painting. It had seemed a good idea to learn to use oil paint along with the Lower Sixth, but they have the luxury of devoting lesson after lesson to filling in their 16 squares, and they only have to wheedle "Mr Openshaw! Sirrrr …." for Charley to saunter across in his laid-back way and impart some vital tidbit of advice. My time is running out and I'll have to learn to paint on my own, later.
When I got into school this morning I retrieved my seven little etching plates from the acid where they'd been languishing for the whole weekend, and at last they showed signs of having something on them that might print. That acid must be very weak! Anyway, I spent most of the day inking up and making print after print, and it was great. Quite meditative, in fact. I was able to think about various aspects of the schedule while I was working, and before I went home at 7.45 made yet another list!
Earlier, my Year 13 double lesson had gone OK. It was nice to see the video stills from Cley church being transformed into evocative black and white imagery by the students.
