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| RTomens, 2018 |
Floor manager at Work asks me how my week-end was - I say "Good. I made some good art" - then qualified that for fear of sounding arrogant by mumbling something like "Well, you know, it doesn't always turn out good" (feeling a bit stupid) but his eyes are alight because he says he's an artist too before asking me what I use - I tell I use the computer but don't like the term 'Digital art' because I don't create perfect renditions of tigers, digitally. "What the point of them?" I ask. he says he uses a something-or-other, which I take to mean the kind of pencil I've seen Grayson Perry using on TV. You know. A digital, er, thing. "Well, well!" he's still in shock that someone on the same floor as him makes art. I know what he means. "You never know what the person next to you in the lift is doing." I say. Which is true, although if you guessed sport or fancy cake-baking, in their spare time, you'd probably be right, rather than "making art".
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