This has been interesting -
I seem to be obsessed with making books and painting in them.
I started sometime ago tentatively, then the thing gathered momentum now I cant stop, not yet anyway. There is something to learn here in the making and painting these books.
There are canvases on my wall finished now. I painted them to one side.
I found too much focus produced work I don't like. So I need lots of other pieces going on, books and pieces of paper on the table an the floor and any spare wall space to discover my next move. The focus is spread the energy is tempered and moves are found out.
Questions are arising about the nature of a book and the value of a book once read or (failed to read ) of it 's value as a possession, a text or as a useful container for paintings, a ready made surface.
I find myself staring at our book shelves and considering which books could i pull apart and use and which books I could not.
Firstly I made 'sketchbooks' out of art paper, painting on a large sheet in a free and experimental fashion, mark making finding out what I like what felt good, exciting, interesting, and then I cut these into strips and attached them and folded them and used the other side for more experimenting sometimes with collage.
These books mark time.
When I look at the books on my book shelves I remember who I was when I read a certain book. There are some that are not mine some I will never read they don't interest me right now. There are some I bought for the pictures of painting and other artworks and now they are being read.
Some don't deserve the space they take up and may end up painted,