We have a little yard adjoining the house, a yard that I thought would probably be sufficient when we first moved in, but since isolation I’ve started to wish it bigger… Saying that I can see the flats down the road with no outdoor space which makes me count my blessings.
The dog is hiding from the sun, pleased to be outdoors, me with my spray paints lined up on rickety old wooden furniture.
I’d been rummaging in the cellar the day before, looking for a skipping rope to try and stay as healthy as I can, and I came across spray paints from a past arts project.
So here I am in the yard, envelopes lined up. Colour turning white crisp paper into golden shapes, the aerosol spray dancing in the light, patterns forming gold on red. Me desperately trying to create a fixed idea, the world is having none of it, so I just enjoy the abstract patterns and the possibilities they might bring, black on red, red on gold.
Every now and again the totally still day will be caught up in a massive gust of wind, sweeping down the side alley of the house and blowing my neatly stacked, and somewhat still damp, creations all over the yard. The dog seems to be totally unbothered by this, which is a relief because I’m not sure nose and paw prints are really the artistic impression that we want to give people, although I’m sure they would be beautiful and thought-provoking in their own way.
And as I hold the stencils up and spray, with the world so quiet, I put red on gold and black on red…