Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts

Thursday, December 25, 2025

Annual Review 2025

  

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Annual Review 2025


 I would rather be a failure on my own terms than a success on someone else’s. 

Tom waits


Travels


Udaipur, Jagdish Chowk temple, 36.9 x 30 cm 



I travelled in India, returning in late March. This was a success and the pictures will be shown at NO31 Gallery in Duns in March 2026.

I revised my travel list recently. 



Social Media


I continue to detach from social media. I can make the familiar arguments about how nasty and manipulative social media is. But even with these properties, I would continue to use it if it had showered me with beenfits. It hasn`t, and I resent how it has promised and failed to deliver (followers, sales) despite how I have supplied it with masses of free content. This is to do with alogarithms, probably that I haven`t paid to have my work promoted, and possibly the work itself. Who knows?

So continue to step outside this.


Flickr

 I have 938 followers, down from 944. I stopped posting here years ago.


Blogger


 There are 85 followers, a decrease of one. There were 465 visitors, with Singapore and Hong Kong bringing the most recorded. But the stats do not seem dependable.

I added a two new blogs to showcase particular work:

Tadeusz Dereowski: in black and white:

https://tadeuszderegowskiblackandwhite.blogspot.com/2025/11/blog-post.html

An Indian Miscellany

https://indianmiscellany.blogspot.com/2025/06/jaipur-bani-park-arch-with-trees-28-x-28.html


Instagram 


 Instagram decided that one or other of something I had posted contravened its "community guidleines" and wouldn`t address what this was when I sent mesages questioning what this meant. It means that I cannot comment on my own postings. With this restriction in place I will no longer use this site. This isn`t much of an issue as I received so little attention here anyway.


Saachi

I didn't sell anything here this year.

 

Facebook

 I continue to post here, though it is an unpleasant site run by unscrupulous individuals.

 

Photography


My strange life



.

I took some nice photos, mainly using a cell phone. But I may return to using my small Lumix camera as the image quality is higher.


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Painting


Mannofield, trees in a garden, September,  oil on card, 18 x 20.6 cm 




After India, I continued to explore Aberdeen, revisiting and refining my sense of the place, with a particular emphasis on its lanes and back areas behind Union St. I attempted to paint larger and larger paintings. I had an eye to the Art Fair in mid year.

However, the Art Fair was a flop: my set of panels received few visitors and no sales. What sold there were kitschy pictures of Highland cattle at very low prices. I`ve never been a comercially movivated artist, but I`d hoped that my pictures of Aberdeen would have garnered at least a little interest. No chance!

 I decided to see the failure here as a "wake up call". I returned to a small, intimate scale and paint in black and white, a mode of picture making which I had previously pursued and which never was directed to sales. I revisited the artists that had set me off: Redon, Corot, Kokoschka: pyschological artists whose work closely traces their subjectivities.

The black and white method allows much greater spontanity as (obviously) without colour to consider the descision making can be more rapid. I`m often happy with the results. I feel connected with what I`m making in a  deep way, which is the main thing, I suppose, unless one is a market driven artist.

So I paintined in the garden in Mannofield and along the Old Railway to Duthie Park then along to the Victoria Bridge. Small paintings, dreamlike sometimes.




Exhibitions and Sales


I showed work with Aberdeen Art Fair, and had work with the Society of Scottish Artists. at Milton Gallery, Crathes. At both: no sales. I heard that the sales were low in both of these.

 I showed with No31 Gallery in Duns at"Showroom", an end of year open, where I sold a painting from Brazil, "Joaquina".

It was impossible to get my work into other galleries here. This became demoralising and annoying, as if I was being given the runanround, or running into an unadventurous closed club situation, whih made me miss aspects of Brazil, where people seemed more prepared to "take a punt" on someone new.



Writing


I wrote a good number of new short pieces, which I shall put on here over the next few weeks.

The stories were read to Lemon Tree Writers Group, which I currently Chair and which meets in the Northern Arts Club, Aberdeen.

I also wrote mini-plays which were performed at the Spikin Weird event in the Blue Lamp in Aberdeen. However it seemed these events were largely orientated to the Trans community, so though we were made welcome it did not seem the right place for my work.

It is an irony that forums which so vocally celebrate diversity often create an ambience which encourage only limited form of expression, both in form and content. These limitations are conveyed not through direct censorship but through what is applauded, and a general audience tone. 

The two Mumby plays we performed were politely recieved and good enough, I thought, but what would have pleased the audience were something celebrating trans experience, ideally read in a strong Aberdonian accent.

In Spikin Wierd my "this is not really for me, is it?" moment came when one performer announced to the noisy cheers of others that they had recently had their breasts removed, their transition to "masculinity" having thus passed another milestone.



Other thoughts and... 2026




Mannofield, view from a first floor window,  19.5 x 20


I go Morocco and Spain from December to return in mid-March, for a joint show in Duns art No31, which will show Indian pictures.

 Otherwise, nothing. 

Being in Aberdeen is not enlivening.

2025 went boringly, with no doors opening and a sense of weariness and frutration with those around me, their lack of enthusiasm for anything much, their complacency and dullness.

 Is this just Aberdeen or is it like this everywhere? 

I hope to travel more. I have one eye on Nepal, another on Mexico...



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Friday, October 2, 2009

I do not exist



Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been
contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each
other,
Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

This is Part II of T.S. Eliot's poem, Ash Wednesday (1930) Faber Paperbacks.

The painting is a detail of a recent imaginary portrait.