1000 days project

"We are what we repeatedly do"

Will Durant, The Story of Philosophy: The Lives and Opinions of the World's Greatest Philosophers (1926)

The 1000 day project is my attempt to steer myself consciously towards the things that are most important to me.

Every day for 1000 days I will work towards my goals in a structured way. I will be posting daily updates on this website.

The 1000 day project runs from 26th December 2015 to the 21st September 2018, which is my 30th birthday.

In the past I have successfully completed two 100 day projects (100 portraits in 2010 and 100 blogs in 2011). In 2012 I spent 1000 hours drawing and painting.

Day 0226


Dashed into the Louvre to look at the Dutch galleries, only to find that they're being refurbished. Spent the rest of the day labouring on an abysmal portrait of my friend in a cafe. It just doesn't look like her at all. I'd like to find an excuse and say that I couldn't concentrate (I couldn't) or that the model moved (she didn't), but the fact is a good artist's bad work would still be better than this dross.

Again I'm confronted with the all-too-real limits of my abilities. Slowly realizing that I am one of the faceless millions, not the vanishingly rare exalted soul I so persistently believe myself to be.

Nevertheless a wonderful, fulfilling day in Paris. Human contact, art, walking, an excellent book. Finished The Charterhouse of Parma, which was completely absorbing, speaking directly to my imagination with its Italian prison towers, hopeless love stories and lady-killer lead.

Day 0225


Enjoyed the Musée Jacquemart-André, principally the feeling of being on familiar ground: Italian art, bored gallery attendants, faded grandeur coupled with modern cost-saving atrocities. Buzzing lights, piped piano music, worn carpets, job-lot chairs.

Sat in the park listening to The Charterhouse of Parma watching the Parisiens enjoy the sun. Still can't bear the apprehension that every single one is an unknown universe; my potential greatest friend, lover, benefactor. Impossible to imagine each person really is out there right now continuing their existence and thoughts. Millions and millions of them, everywhere at all times! Even in the furthest reaches of Siberia are beating hearts and thinking brains, unknown but understandable, halfway through lives that will never intersect.

Made myself go down to the river to attept a watercolour.

Day 0224


Glorious day walking around Paris. Sat in the sun in the Tuleries, wandered around with a friend and enjoyed a Pastel de Nata. Did a half-arsed watercolour copy, before becoming distracted by planning more holidays.

Day 0223


Paris, hurrah! Travel, movement, independence, metropolitan life! Wonderful that it can be turned on like a tap.

It all still goes on. So many people, thoroughly, hopelessly interchangeable. Each of us a drop in the ocean of humanity, with no individual significance or individuation beyond certain narrow, comprehensible limits. Seeing so many people is like the Total Perspective Vortex from the Hitchhiker's Guide.

Finished Catch-22. Duality, ambivalence, senselessness.

What a lousy earth! He wondered how many people were destitute that same night even in his own prosperous country, how many homes were shanties, how many husbands were drunk and wives socked, and how many children were bullied, abused, or abandoned. How many families hungered for food they could not afford to buy? How many hearts were broken? How many suicides would take place that same night, how many people would go insane? How many cockroaches and landlords would triumph? How many winners were losers, successes failures, and rich men poor men? How many wise guys were stupid? How many happy endings were unhappy endings? How many honest men were liars, brave men cowards, loyal men traitors, how many sainted men were corrupt, how many people in positions of trust had sold their souls to bodyguards, how many had never had souls? How many straight-and-narrow paths were crooked paths? How many best families were worst families and how many good people were bad people? When you added them all up and then subtracted, you might be left with only the children, and perhaps with Albert Einstein and an old violinist or sculptor somewhere.
Joseph Heller, Catch 22

Day 0222


Idled away a perfectly good day. Realized I'm not achieving anything and not even enjoying it, booked a train to Paris for tomorrow. Only reason to come back is my driving lesson on tuesday. Resolved to apply for some jobs. Need challenge, money, encouragement.

Day 0221


Driving lesson. Drawing. Catch 22.

Day 0220


Working on business ideas. Read Zero to One. Messed up portrait by not working carefully. Blunt charcoal encourages me to be sloppy.

Day 0219


Retail therapy in Cambridge, mortgage eligibility meeting (uselessly low). Researching business possibilities. Another self portrait, charcoal on toned paper. Much more engaging than a copy, but far more challenging. Not seeing any improvement, still can't draw what I want.

Day 0218


London to meet a kitten, now Cambridge. No drawing stuff with me so scrounged a pencil and paper for late night self portrait.

Day 0217


Stressed, bored, depressed, dissatisfied, lonely. Came very close to booking a flight tomorrow to change my environment and be on the road again (i.e. run away), but left it too late and gave up. Came very, very close to quitting this project, but finally pulled myself together after midnight to work on the drawing.

Really wasting my time, and I'm not even enjoying it. Want to go and be thoroughly, desperately debauched. Have no edge, but feel like I'm on the edge. Fuzzy head, pacing, can't concentrate or commit.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun. Pink Floyd - Time
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