Katy is sweeping the cat. Not small prods, but full-time brush sweeps. Cat just stays there, seems to enjoy it…
Month: November 2015
Vogue! Strike a pose!
The most wonderful time of the year
Animatronic reindeer singing Sinatra…. Need more gin.
[recipe] Frozen coffee and Baileys
Must try this!
Late night in Lausanne
It’s the bean’s birthday and we went to dinner at Da Carlo’s. Nice walk on the way back to the car.
Blue sweetie or red sweetie. Choose wisely.
Just remember, the first hit is free. The rest is pay for play :)
Martin Beaupre in Morges, take 2
For the second time in as many years, I had the privilege to meet Martin Beaupré last night at the Midnight Sun gallery, in Morges, where he was doing another live painting exhibition. Whereas last year he did the two-handed upside-down painting demonstration, this year he presented how he started his works, with 3 blank canvases.
More things I learned:
- He never runs out of ideas because he never has any ideas on what his paintings will be like to begin with.
- He never paints while he has any negative emotion. He might do some side borders, or go running.
- Once he has a formline, he’ll turn the canvas until he sees something that works. Maybe it’ll be a geisha, maybe it’ll be a landscape.
- He never throws out a canvas. If something doesn’t work, he’ll paint it black and do a night scene.
- He’ll start with acrylic and paste, then switch to oils.
- He works on so many canvases at once because he finds it difficult to know when to stop. The interrupt required by letting layers dry and moving on to another painting helps him decide when it’s “done”.
Our classy cats
I mean, come on, you’re not even attempting to be dignified here…
Lest we forget
They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
A cat and his boy
