Duck Dayz...

Cloud 9

The Rubber Duck in art…
Portrait of Marilyn.

Andrew Warhola (August 6, 1928 – February 22, 1987), more commonly known as Andy Warhol, was an American painter, printmaker, and filmmaker and a leading figure in the art movement known as Pop Art.

It was during the 1960s that Warhol began to make paintings of iconic American products such as Campbell's Duck Soup Cans, Ducka-Cola bottles, and Billo soap pad boxes, as well as paintings of celebrities such as Marilyn Monduck, Elvis Duckley, Jackie Keneduck, Duckammad Ali and Elizabeth Tealor. He founded ‘The Factory’, his studio during these years, and gathered around himself a wide range of artists, writers, musicians, and underground celebrity ducks.

In 1962 he began mass producing prints using the silkscreen method and his work became popular and controversial.

“In August 62 I started doing silkscreens. I wanted something stronger that gave more of an assembly line effect. With silkscreening you pick a photograph, blow it up, transfer it in glue onto silk, and then roll ink across it so the ink goes through the silk but not through the glue. That way you get the same image, slightly different each time. It was all so simple quick and chancy. I was thrilled with it. When Marilyn Monduck happened to die that month, I got the idea to make screens of her beautiful face - the first Marilyns”.

Examples of this work in various colourways are numerous and can be seen in galleries all over the world. The Andy Warhol Museum is located near downtown Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA, where Warhol was born and grew up. The Museum features extensive permanent collections of his art, including several Monduck prints.

And Finally…

Some like it hot, others cold, on toast as a pâté – but either way it seems to me she lived her life like a canard in the wind, never knowing who to swim to when the rain set in…

Cool beans...

What’s in the bowl? Beads, stones, my future?

Well they aren’t beads or stones. They're swamp seeds, a mixture of wild bush beans and coffee beans.

My oldest daughter, Cloë, brought them back for me from Uganda. She was there a couple of months go working with local people, educating them on contraception and other associated behaviours. She was based in a town called Jinja, on Lake Victoria, close to the source of the Nile, and stayed at Gately, a very nice hotel right on the lake.

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Now, Uganda isn’t England, and when I told her to check her shoes for scorpions and spiders each morning and before going out onto her balcony to make sure that there weren’t any dangling snakes, I think she thought that I was joking. She soon learnt that I wasn’t. Poor Cloë hardly got any sleep because of the lizard circus that performed all over her ceiling each night. They were only small, but lizards are lizards, and if you are worried by them, well… you are worried by them - and Cloë is. Personally I think they are fascinating – but then they weren’t on my ceiling.

About the beans - Cloë got them from a man called Bernard who collects them from the bushes and shrubs growing wild locally and makes them into jewellery. He made her a fridge magnet from a piece of wood with her name burnt onto it, as a gift for giving him the idea of using his skills to start making fridge magnets for tourists, he even spelt her name correctly (umlaut and all), now there’s gratitude. I used to make fridge magnets on the pier, so perhaps fridge magnets are in the blood, I may tell you about them some time.

What she didn’t know about the beans, which I have subsequently researched and found out (à la Google), is that these beans are used by the local witch-doctors and Shaman (Xhosa Sangoma) for foretelling the future. You simply tip the beans out of your hand or from a dish onto the sun-beaten earth, look for pictures in the patterns they make after they’ve fallen, and then… interpret them.

I had no sun-beaten earth, but I did have a dish - the one that Cloë brought me back from Uganda to keep my beans in - and I’m pretty damn good when it comes to interpreting things; although others might call it ‘making stuff up’, so I had a go.

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As you can clearly see my future looks very much like the creature that is depicted on the dish my beans are held in – I think it’s a goat, and according to my ‘Observer Book of Witch-Doctoring - Chapter Two – Portents of the Future’, a goat means that I should look out for danger – it is out there, and it wants me. I should be particularly aware of not falling backwards over low hedges, watch out for incoming heat guided missiles (particularly after a curry), avoid buckets filled with yellow custard, expect my trousers to fall down unexpectedly, and try not to attract people with tourette's – basically my future looks like an episode of Benny Hill without the scantily clad ladies.

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Looking more closely at my goat though, it also seems to indicate that lawn mowing is particularly well starred this month, as is cutting hedges, and generally tidying up in the garden. It also seems to be warning me that both Saturn and Mercury are casting a furrowed brow over my psyche until the end of the year; so self-improvement programs should be avoided (now simply isn’t the time) and I must totally disregard all smiley faced positive self-motivators who try to persuade me otherwise.

Mmmm… interesting - I’ll let you know if it’s true.

Itsy Bitsy spider...

You can tell Autumn has arrived, the spiders are coming in through the plughole. That’s the thing about the countryside - it is full of live things. Conkers are meant to keep them away, they don’t like the smell. Last year the record was eight, I wonder if we’ll beat it this year. Now let’s see… nope, only three – I’ll just get a jar to catch them in, it’s not fair to kill them…

‘There’s usually some in this big dish thing that the peoples make all wet in. I don’t know why they want to make themselves all wet but they do. Foodies and that Whirling Dervish Girl Thing hate those longedy-legly things. I love them. They are such fun to chase.

Now where are they?

Come out… come out… wherever you are. It’s me Misty, death of longedy-leglies.

Ah! There you are… three of you. Now don’t try to run away, you can run but you can’t hide – there’s nowhere to hide in this dish thing, and the sides are so slippery you can’t even climb out. You are doomed, doomed I tell you, DOOOOOMED, HA, HA, HA, HA, HAAAAAAA!

Frying Fishcakes! Whatever came over me? For a moment I felt quite the terror – maybe I’m a meglomanicat, a Macatiavellian feline, Atilla the puss. Or perhaps I’ve a split personality – on one side nice Misty, sort of Dr Jekyll, and on the other nasty Misty, Mr Hyde… I don’t remember drinking any steaming green potions though.






Right here goes. Here I come… Itsy Bitsy spider Climbed up the water spout… SWIPE… That’s one… Down came the rain and washed the spider out… SWIPE…That’s two… Out came the sun and dried up all the rain… Just you left now – aren’t you a big one. I think I’ll have a little play with you… And Itsy Bitsy spider climbed up the spout again… Afraid not… Off you go, run away….SWIPE…oops-a-daisy, did I get you? SWIPE…he flies through the air with the greatest of ease, that long-legley thing with the multiple knees… SWIPE… Ah – looks like Itsy Bitsy really is all itsy bitsy, maybe that was a little too hard… he seems to be squashed flat.

Oh well, I was getting bored with that game anyway, ho-hum, waste not, want not…delicious!

Now how to I get out of this thing?’

Come on then spiders - let’s get you outside where you belong. Where are you? Where’ve you gone? They’ve gone. Probably climbed back down the plughole, I better put the plug in to stop them coming back. I wonder if that conker thing really works…

Doggy-paddling with Ray Bradbury (Thursday 2 am)…

There are some places in my life I don’t go much. Small towns, countries, the odd continent that I once spent time in but, for one reason or another, choose never to read the sent, spent, postcards that are my memories of these now foreign haunts. Yes - they haunt.

Some things are best forgotten?

Look at these women in their caps and gowns. How happy they look, how proud - it is their day and they have worked so hard for it. They deserve their pride and smiles as they graduate as teachers.

I knew one of these women when she was a small girl, for a while I brought her and her sister up. Well, perhaps brought up it isn’t; but I was around when they were becoming part the people they are today. They are both grown now. I have some dust drawn postcards of how they were, but none of how they are – excepting those I borrow from others and elsewheres. Yes, I borrowed (stole) that picture, it’s somebody else’s postcard - not rightfully mine, not mine at all – still’n’all, well done all, and well done one.

I’m pleased that she’s smiling, pleased that she’s done so well. I wish that I could claim a credit for it – but I can’t, won’t, credit’s hers. I was just around in the water for a while before and during the storm. And after?

Here’s an explanation. Not ‘the’, but the only I have. It makes sense to me, safe sanctuary, the ‘how’ of how I deal with these things - another postcard that I won’t look at too closely. Why? Well, it doesn’t stand too close examination; I might see the holes – and the worms that live down them.

‘Sometimes life is like a wave. You are floating along when suddenly you are caught up and moved along in a direction that you didn’t see coming, or do see coming but don’t feel until the wave breaks, or feel, but are so caught up in the motion and spray of the wave - so busy struggling not to be smashed and pulled down to drown - that all you can do is doggy paddle for your life. Doggy paddle away from the waves, against the tides, away from the storm. Paddle until you manage the calmer waters. Paddle for the safety that lies beyond. Paddle so as not to drown. Paddle away, paddle…’

Wish you were here? So - my postcard of an explanation… short? Well postcards are. I warned that it doesn’t stand close examination – why would it? Save yourself? Yourself - when mostly we don’t drown, we won’t drown, and mostly we can’t drown. When mostly we doggy paddle – paddle away on our own.

Paddle away - leaving the others to the waves.
Sink or swim? Paddle doggy, paddle.

Postcards best forgotten?

Vision on...

Do you remember Vision On? If you did, did you feel guilty watching it? I did and so did my friends, in fact some of my ‘friends’ wouldn’t watch it at all - some of them would even start a fight with you if you admitted watching it. After all, it wasn’t for us; it was for them – the deaf kids.

Vision On was for the deaf kids and normal kids weren’t allowed to watch it. You were breaking ‘the law’ if you did, whose law nobody seemed to know, but it was definitely illegal.

Vision On was designed specifically for deaf children and shown on BBC’s children’s hour from 1964 to 1976. I think I remember watching it from the start but can’t remember if I was still watching it in 1976 – I doubt it. It was dreamt-up and developed by BBC producers Ursula Eason and Patrick Dowling to replace a monthly series that the BBC sensitively called For the Deaf – what a terrible and so ‘of the time’ title. FTD was paced slowly enough for deaf children to read captions and subtitles. There was some initial disagreement as to whether lip-reading or sign language would be more appropriate for the deaf kids who were going to watch Vision On - eventually it was decided that, since the new programme was primarily intended as entertainment and not education, that communication would be completely visual, text would be limited and speech would be almost abandoned altogether.

Ground-breaking stuff at the time and the programme won awards. The Vision On title alluded to the illuminated sign in BBC studios that indicated that the cameras were running - not that anyone would have known that outside of the BBC - it was an in-joke, how typically ‘sports jacket’ BBC.

The aim of the programme was to entertain and capture the deaf kid’s imaginations. It was fast-paced, with a flow of contrasting ideas, both sensible and silly. The presenters were Pat Keysell, an actress who also taught deaf children - she used to sign I think - and the artist Tony Hart who made all sorts of pictures in all sizes and all media – paint, pencil, collage. I think it was Tony Hart who got me interested in painting and making art generally. I certainly sent of a few of my ‘masterpieces’ to ‘The Gallery’, along with thousands of other children. Tony Hart died recently.

Pat’s signing made me uncomfortable, it reminded me that I shouldn’t really be watching, and I was never really sure if I was ‘allowed’ to send my pictures in to ‘The Gallery’ – after all I wasn’t a deaf kid. And, although the pace was fast, the lack of speech seemed to slow the whole thing down, gave it a ‘spacey’ feel. It was an odd viewing experience, sometimes after watching it I felt empty, Deputy Dog afterwards was such a relief

I liked watching it though, and was even in ‘The Gallery’ once – what a buzz that gave me.

I still get a buzz from seeing my stuff on screen, hence this blog. I really enjoy reading the comments that people leave me, I enjoy the interaction – warts and all. It is so great when people take the trouble to leave me messages, share their thoughts, experiences - send me parts of their lives. It’s a little like having my very own Vision On gallery.

Sometimes I’m sent pictures by my blog friends, things that they know will interest or amuse me - get me going. This fantastic photo was taken in a Scarborough slot machine arcade by one of them. Look at that group of pirate ducks! I want them! I’d be happy to while away a few hours and hundreds, thousands of twopences to get them. I want to win them ALL. It’s a great picture, and I particularly love the skeleton duck – thanks Glynne.

And… here’s the sunset, on a rainy summer’s evening, photographed through a rain splashed window. Just looking at it makes me feel glad to be indoors and out of the rain. I’m fascinated by the sky and weather – thanks Nicki C.

And… my old school friend Sacha sent me this photograph of a rather grand post-box in Llandudno. I’ve never seen one like it before. I wonder which George it was - my money’s on George V.

And more… some spooky shadows from Holly, a chunk of ancient peat bog wood from BMD - just look at that shape, it could have come straight out of a Dali painting, and another picture from Nikki, this time of her seed-grown, potted, sunflowers.

And that’s this weeks gallery – thanks everyone.

Play Gallery music: Dum, di, dum, di, dum, di, dum, dum - da, da, dum,di, dum, dum, dum.

Milestone...

Some people talk about going the extra mile or reaching a milestone in their lives, well, I’m not sure about either. Sometimes that extra mile seems a lot longer than a single mile and that life-milestone can seem like a life-millstone.

Milestones have been around since Roman times. They were placed to provide points of reference for that weary traveler traveling along that lonely road. The stones were placed there to reassure them that the right and proper path was being followed, and to indicate either the distance they had traveled or the remaining distance left to travel to reach their destination – heart’s ease.

Sometimes, as I've said before, we walk around with our eyes almost closed - here's another example of what I mean. The milestone in the picture is just up the road from the Birmingham office of the company I work for. It’s a very busy road, office blocks, hotels, lots of traffic, not quite the place to find an old milestone. I must have walked past it dozens of times before eventually noticing it very recently. Who knows what surrounded it when it was first placed there - fields, a village, a herd of cows? Maybe it stood on a country road like the slate milestone just outside of Bangor, North Wales, pictured below. Not my picture I'm afraid, I'm still looking for this - I'll blunder into it one day, probably breaking an arm or leg in the process.

When the Hagley Road milestone was erected Birmingham was a whole mile away, and a mile was a distance.

Wouldn’t it be comfortable to have the reassurance of milestones in our lives? Some markers along the way indicating that we are doing the right thing by following a particular road; something to confirm that we are on track and will reach our destination, wouldn’t it be calming to know how far we have to travel before we get there, be sure where there is – to know we only have to go only that extra mile along the road to find our heart's ease.

We all reach milestones in our lives I guess, but I for one have never been sure that I’ve reached the right one, nor how far along the journey I am, or when or where my journey will finish.

Perhaps that’s how it should be.

Duck Dayz...

Cloud 9…

The Rubber Duck in art…
Les Canards de Caoutchouc d'Avignon
The Young Rubber Ducks of Avignon is large oil painted in 1907 by Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) which portrays a trio of unfeathered Spanish ducks (patos) in a house of easy virtue on Avinyó Street in Barcelona. All of the figures depicted are physically jarring, none conventionally duck-like, all slightly menacing, and each is rendered with angular and disjointed body and bill shapes.

In his adoption of Primitivism and abandonment of perspective in favor of a flat, two-dimensional picture plane, Picasso makes a radical departure from traditional European painting. The work is one of Picasso's most famous, and is widely considered to be a seminal work in the early development of both canard caoutchouc cubism and modern art. It is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, having been acquired by the museum in 1939.

And finally…

Those of you with a religious education may relate to this duck.

The nun who is elected to head her monastery is termed an abbess if the monastery is an abbey, a prioress if it is a priory, or more generically may be referred to as the Mother Superior. Either way, this Mother Superior rules the roost – and just why is she carrying that ruler?

Perhaps it poses the question: ‘How do you solve a problem like *Cairina (Moschata)’? *(Google it)