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 0106


Drew during the daylight hours for a change. Prioritised drawing rather than leaving it until the last minute. Motivated by envy of the good art I saw yesterday and because today I'd like to enjoy myself without the consciousness of undone work hanging over me.

This drawing by Rogier van der Weyden is an exercise in patience, control and restraint. Light touch, huge areas of light. Very easy to over-work and over model.

Day 0105


Spring cleaned my room. Have thrown out a lot of my possessions, leaving books and some clothes and my art materials. Feels good, feels like an opportunity to be a new person.

Intensely, achingly nostalgic for Maui all of a sudden. Miss sun, warm waters, bright colours, sweet air, crickets, fruit, flowers.

Looked at some of the work my old art school people have been producing. Some incredible improvements, and some genuinely beautiful work. Portraits and plein air.

Day 0104


I've been watching The Shock of the New to learn about modernism and art. I remember being shown it as an unwilling and disinterested schoolboy, but some of it managed to penetrate my distractedness and parts of it have stayed with me for over a decade. Very receptive to the ideas in it now. Morality and progress and art, disillusionment. Blending with the thoughts of Proust and Ruskin and Tolstoy. Still working it out.

Day 0103


Russia and the Arts exhibition. Repin could paint, though I suspect he was a better draughtsman. Thick, buttery oils. Reflective varnish. Vasily Perov scratching with end of brush through the wet paint to the warm brown ground to do whisps of hair.

Leonardo cartoon at National Gallery. Sketched it there, but I couldn't concentrate because of the tourists and the dim light. Worked from photo of it for tonight's drawing.

Day 0102


Day out in London, but for once no cultural edification. Wore trainers, went to the cinema, went shopping, watched TV, had microwave meal. Exceedingly relaxing to be normal briefly. Veered off course with an end-of-day Leonardo silverpoint in my handy travel sketchbook.

Day 0101


My dad kindly posed for his portrait this evening. A small silverpoint which I did in low light; it was difficult to see what I was drawing. The resemblance is okay though and it was a nice experience. Pleased with it, and it seems a fitting marker for the hundredth day. The hundredth day! A time to pause and reflect.

Day 0100


Disappointed with my drawing today. Again, late night. Couldn't get anything in the right place. Hard standing up.

Wrote up quotations from Tolstoy, Proust, Ruskin. Took a walk to think about it but always interrupted by fellow walkers. When you are the only two blots on the landscape there is no avoiding acknowledging each other. More anonymity in the city where you never see the same face twice. Thoughts derailed.

Day 0099


Devoured Marcel Proust and John Ruskin On Reading. Will write up some notes on this and Tolstoy tomorrow. Holiday-feeling blue skies and birds and bees.

Day 0098


Itchy feet. Came close to booking tickets to Paris for the Salon du Dessin, but saw the quality of the work (or lack of it) and decided against it. Wanted to go to the Netherlands for the Jheronimus Bosch exhibition, but it is sold out until May. Walk in the countryside instead. Birdsong is what I get here more than anywhere else.

When shall I see the white thorn leaves agen
And yellowhammers gath'ring the dry bents
By the dyke side on stilly moor or fen
Feathered wi love and natures good intents
Rude is the nest this Architect invents
Rural the place wi cart ruts by dyke side
Dead grass, horse hair and downy headed bents
Tied to dead thistles she doth well provide
Close to a hill o' ants where cowslips bloom
And shed o'er meadows far their sweet perfume
In early Spring when winds blow chilly cold
The yellowhammer trailing grass will come
To fix a place and choose an early home
With yellow breast and head of solid gold.
John Clare, The Yellowhammer

Day 0097


Finished Tolstoy's What is Art? Like the Kreutzer Sonata, a fantastic short read. Much overlap with my thoughts, large divergences too. Beautiful spring day in Suffolk, with bullace blossom, birdsong and hawthorn.
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