Sketch: Thursday

I’d been to Barcelona twice I think and my understanding of spoken Catalan and Catalan culture was rudimentary and theoretical at best; at the very least I was respectful if largely ignorant of its finer points. When Marina and Jordi came to over to Lisbon for a long weekend in the spring of 2005 I […]

Sketch: Isabel II

The five years I worked for Roche I commuted back and forth on a branch line of what for us Barcelona locals call the Ferrocatas. For all intents and purposes the Ferrocatas are a parallel and complementary service to the Barcelona metro system although in reality they predate the metro. Roche’s installations are in a […]

Sketch: Gifts

My father has a fantastically large collection of shirts. Aside from these he clearly also owns many other items of clothing in varying quantities and styles and cuts but it is his so many shirts that come to mind very often when I think of him. I could count them some day but I feel […]

Sketch: Other animals.

It wasn’t so much that he was perfect for her or she for him. It was more about the fact that he was right for her. Right for her and right for them both. They seemed right for each other. Those around them, the chattering classes to the finca born, seemed enamored with what they […]

Mac Scene: Notes from a found sketchbook or a moment in time.

The place and time and date at the top of the page tell me I am writing and sketching in Mac Donald’s on Avenida da República as of eight minutes past eight on the 31st of January 2004. In effect I’m just up the road from Mark’s flat where he and Barbs and I – […]

Sketch: Galia

Galia was the striking Russian wife of a colleague of my Father’s at the bank in Paris. I don’t remember exactly when it was that Paul and Galia began to figure in our lives and if I wanted to be exact I could call my Father to ask him but I don’t feel that really […]

On Rothko and other things

Autumn of 1983 at St Julians and we were finally granted access to The Art Department as members of the senior school. Gone were the days of “put your textbooks away and get your crayons out; this period we will be drawing what we did in the holidays”. Leon Carraco was to teach us art […]

Sketch: Babylon by bus

I had got to know the Lisbon – Madrid bus service rather too well over the year of 2001 to 2002 that I had spent living in Madrid. That year was a train-wreck for me in all terms imaginable and those nine-hour long over-night bus journeys over those barren flatlands of western Iberia, back and […]

Sketch: Runners

I seem to remember we ran a couple of times a week. The circuit must have been about five kilometers in all, which wasn’t bad going for a ten year old. Quinta, our red setter, knew the course and for every one of those laps my father and I ran she must have run the […]

On the creative process

It has taken me forty-three years of ups and knocks and dips and rides and introspection to fully comprehend and appreciate the profoundly liberating forces that propel the process of creation. One is master not only of the moment but also of all the emotions and energies one is seeking to transmit or channel. The […]

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