End of the 90s

The idea that culture progresses,

like a carnival float, is a weird

one. The idea that you have to

keep your eyes peeled, be receptive

to the world around you, and

join the general

procession of ideas in its

colourful display of our times.

a deep & meaningful

carnival.

Perhaps the best paintings evolve

through restricted access to them.

Being so fucking busy, commuting,

working in a shop to pay off

your loans, not really having

enough time to be what we

imagine an artist or designer

should be in terms of time spent

doing artist – like things; it may actually

improve our art – work, clothes,

paintings, because the time we

spend on the them is always brief.

We can imagine that whatever

we do in these brief moments

is exact + purposeful, which

is why its so vexing & hurtful

when they are not: deadlines

not met, time wasted, not being in

the right mood.

Time is not an aspect necessarily

of good design. Living with, and

being amongst your work,

coming to terms with it & allowing

it to dawn upon you, does not

produce necessarily wonderful

things. If I had loads of money

& an accountant I’d be less

good at what I’m now doing,

because I’d be sinking more

time into it, and I’d pass

a point at which access to

it is down to my choice, and

i think If you can make that choice

then the demands of life are no

longer touching the artwork

you create: they are not shaping

it or imposing life / time upon it,

and therefore It become a leisure

activity.

Words by Professor Julian Roberts