Sumptin’ about this time of year does have me needing to print, and to re-print – and to frame and to re-frame. Gifts on the agenda, obviously, but also’s because it’s by tradition quiet for my business nowabouts, and therefore the ‘creative me’ projects gain traction, momentum and move, oft-times, from making to making-it-real. And typically this involves some printing on to paper.
Today I had the all of my Inky Conditions series (by the working title of Anywhere Here Is Fine) printed to one handsome brick-like stack of A6s more than 100 sheets high. The girl at the local printers’ made this a breezy can-do job – which is a rare and lovely thing when it comes to what is for me the most blind of technical blindspots. Now comes the challenge of what to make of the work. I don’t know how to go about this yet.
Today I re-framed two prints (from the Inky Conditions stable, but not running the same race) shortly to be shipped to a local bar. First framed yesterday, they troubled my already tinnitus-troubled sleep. The wrong frames, simply. Reeking of fakery. And I was made to repeat the drive-about, where-are-my-glasses?, errands of yesterday, and was lucky, much luckier, and found picture frames that were the right ones. I’m very happy with the re-framing. And happier moreover that I listened to, and acted on, my doubts.
Why did I go with the wrong ones firstly? Did I need to do wrong to do right?
The people in the house at the back of us, with the cats, have moved. The bigger of their cats (oh, is he big) keeps coming back – making his own way home across roads, backyards and playgrounds. Not a million miles, but enough to have you googling how? The cat-flap in their now-empty house must still be in operation, because the cat gets in and he sits at an upstairs window. Looking out. Framed, in a pose of achievement, pluck and complete misunderstanding.