Did another Chardin this week. I know the AI machine will probably do paintings for us in a year or two. But will it patiently teach me how to capture the warmth of a wooden tobacco chest? Or the burnished glow of a silver cup? Thank you, M Chardin.
My grandmother was devoted to Pears transparent soap. A cake of Pears is my madeleine: one sniff and I am five years old and staying at my grandparents’ house for what seemed an endless summer weekend.
Pears is one of those rare things that increases in beauty the more it wears out. Towards the end, it looks more like a sliver of precious amber than a slip of soap.
A clear glass of water at room temperature is as pretty near to transparent as makes not much difference. But if the water is chilled and there is condensation on the glass, something more interesting starts to happen: a combination of chilly translucence alongside tepid transparency.
It is the details in life that count.
And a chip in the lip of the glass for adventurous drinking.
Melbourne Council says it will remove 65% of the city’s London plane trees by 2040. I am wondering if they could speed that up a bit. I love the green and the shade the plane trees provide when they are wearing all their leaves, but that first month or so after spring springs is a sniffling, sneezing nightmare as they impregnate my nose with their pollen.
Seemed fitting to have a go at this Michelangelo tribute at this time of year. It is an intriguing picture: proof that you can have a full head of hair and massive muscles, but still be miserable (note: I am referring to the feller in the picture, not me).
‘Does anyone have some antihistamine handy?’
Phil McAloon's paintings 