Day 0316
Drove around, filled up the car with petrol for the first time, another everyday activity that caused me great anticipation anxiety. Done now, one step closer to becoming more like normal people.
The chap behind the counter at the petrol station was probably ten years younger than I am and has more real-world responsibility than I have ever had. I have lived entirely in books, digital abstraction and life mediated through symbols; art, code, words. I hadn't realised how far I have drifted until I started learning to drive and interacting with the real world directly, where I am the responsible agent. Compare bus and trains, or being a passenger: all judgement, control, ultimate responsibility rests with someone else.
Have been thinking a lot about the pastel portraits of wounded First World War soldiers by Henry Tonks, which I saw on a documentary yesterday. Melted flesh, missing eyes, jaws hanging off, red gore, neat hair, staring eyes, excellent draughtsmanship. Dug out my pastels and drew a colour self portrait tonight.
Why self portraits so often? Firstly and undoubtedly, self-adoration. Secondly, convenience. Thirdly, importantly, the challenge of a live model.