Saturday, 1st November
I was watching that film review show with Mark Kermode (except Jason was standing in) on the BBC, and he was talking about Mr. Turner. It is a new film about Turner’s life, in which Timothy Spall grunts a lot. I love Timothy Spall, and am looking forward to seeing the film.
It is possible that Mr. Spall thinks that Mr. S and I are stalking him. We have bumped into him three times during the last twenty years, in very odd and unrelated places, once in a cafe in Oswestry. I doubt he remembers us, we completely ignored him and pretended we had no idea who he was. It seemed rude to do otherwise.
The letters were taken from the advert below, which was in Time Out (Issue 2302).
I like to make art from stuff nobody else wants. Stuff from the bin. Stuff with a secret history.
I absolutely never cut up books which could otherwise be read, or clothes which could otherwise be worn. Nor, do I erase the blemishes left by life. I cherish life’s blemishes.
A few years back, I bought six vintage linen napkins in a charity shop, for the meagre sum of two pounds. So far, I have turned three of my napkins into sewn diaries, using fast food leaflets, old magazines and books.
Each of my napkins represents a month, with a different entry for each day. For example, the day Lynda Bellingham died, I added the Oxo box from my kitchen cupboard.