Tyre Shop- stage two; Forest and Swamp- stage four

The photo quality here leaves something to be desired. The problem of photographing oils is the reflectivity of the paint- this is especially a problem with wet and dark paint.

It has been delightful to return to these two paintings, which I feel I have managed to continue without losing some of their original energies. The essential difficulty is, I believe, that of finding the right balance between responding to the subject and responding to the painting of the subject.

In the initial, sketch, stage one responds rapidly and directly to the subject, scarcely paying much attention to the results on the canvas. In subsequent stages one tends to study the subject less, and the painting more. This is perhaps why the paintings risk becoming duller as they are worked upon- painting becomes an editorial act involving removal and ordering, not a response to the stimulus of a motif.

Ergo , my recurring fascination with rapid methods, that deny ready editing- monotype and pen and ink, as below.

As a means of depicting the sort of rubbishy architecture they construct along the roads here without the least shame paints are much better. This is because the buildings are so disorderly that using an uneditable medium to record them would lead to an impossible visual chaos on the page: contrawise paints allow one to do the editing needed to make sense of the Brazilian architectural landscape.

With ink I generally have been focusing on trees and nature things where precision isn't essential for the image to be comprehensible.

Doodle

Not working for anyone else means I am considerably less bored, and consequently spend less time doodling.

But sometimes during the English lessons I give, or when I am waiting for students I have moments of enforced idleness which I can spend doodling.

Mentally, doodling involves reproducing something from inside my head - I never draw things I see in front of me. Doodles are made on a tiny scale and are highly concentrated like postage stamps or an engravings and are very intimate creations, not intended to be seen by others.

In doodling, I have become very conscious of the sort of marks each type of pen can make and their direction. My favourite pens are Bics, especially those with larger size ball-points (I tried using a fountain pen, but it was too heavy- you can't use a fountain pen faintly, which means you end up having to "dive right in" into the drawing knowing for sure what result you want. This brings a feeling of risk which is inimical to doodling). A ball pen can be used to make a variety of weights of marks so you can gradually work towards your final image. You don't want to have to know what you want the end result to be when you first start doodling.

This quality is essential, because doodling is formostly a process led art form. The end results are relatively unimportant.

The best doodles have an unforced quality. This cannot be contrived. The scribble has to flow freely, un-self consciously- it's a bit like talking to oneself or chatting to a close friend late at night, and you have to feel at ease with yourself to doodle comfortably.

I often draw letters, usually serifed- it's very pleasurable to trace the curve on an "S". Other common subjects for me are faces (usually of women or children), horses, vaginas, cats, flowers, ellipses, eggs and hands. I like cross-hatching, and I like serpentine lines. I rarely use staccato marks.

I daresay there are deep psychological explanations for this choice of subjects (Freud wrote some very silly essays laboriously "explaining" the thoughts behind da Vinci's famous doodles), but some things are simply more suitable subjects of such tiny drawings than others- with such a tiny amount of space the subject cannot require too much elaboration to be recognisable. This is one of the appeals of letters, in particular.

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Knowing that one might later show the doodle online has a negative effect on me, making me feel inhibited. I know the drawings will be judged, first by myself as I photograph and edit them, and then by those who look at my work on Flickr.