Given that I've been having an extended brainwrong of late, it probably wasn't very helpful that this evening's Doctor Who scared me silly for forty odd minutes, then concluded by telling me that all my local statuary was out to get me. Especially since I'm genuinely so fond of so much of the public sculpture around and about these parts. As a
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And remember, whatever you do, don't blink...
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Maybe it was partly because, as a child, I was convinced that my toys came to life and started having fun and carousing together as soon as I shut the door on them, and I was forever suddenly opening the door on them again, in the hope I'd catch 'em out, and catch 'em at play! And this episode was a sort of malign reversal of that idea...
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In other words, it's not gitting fair that I can gulp and glory and marvel at the artworks of others, in very real if not ful appreciation, and yet be unable to sketch something even definitely male or female herself.
I do understand this; however, there's no rule saying that you're barred from appreciating or criticising artwork simply due to your lack of artistic ability. And in fact, I would argue that you have more artistic ability than you give yourself credit for.
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Oh, it's all very frustrating for me, arty type stuff, not least the fact that in recent years I've given up all too easily when having a go at something, in sheer disappointment and embarrassment at how different what emerges is from what I'd been seeing in my head...
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