Meet Rudi, 42, the romantic high priest of digital collage!

140625Rudi

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Paris, 42 rue de l’Yvette. Thursday 15 May 2014, forty minutes past two. I have a feeling there’s still a few hours needed to finish organizing my drawers and I’ll be back in the studio free from all my digital fever. Which will allow me to enjoy other delicious moments. For example making some beautiful still lifes with my Rollei SL66. Or exploring the dunes in Ostend. Hunting for driftwood on the North Sea beaches. Listening to Toru Takemitsu and Robert Ashley. Will I be continuing with New Still Lifes for much longer? Certainly until 30 June. But after that? I think it would take a torrent of encouraging hits on my website. With that hope… happy holidays! Buddha bless you!

 

Why not throw yourself into the craziness of digital collage?

L'archevêque,2014

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Paris, 42 rue de l’Yvette. Thursday 15 May 2014, thirty-three minutes past one. At the moment there are days when all I do in the studio is digital collage. Glued to my Canon I snap away at all kinds of tableaux and drawings I’ve pulled out of boxes. Some figures are made using sellotape such as (above) The Archbishop and his Congregation . Others are simple little characters made of paper and laid on abstract backgrounds whose swirls enchant me the moment I press the shutter release. This is how I pass the minutes and even the hours without ever emerging from my creative fever. But all this craziness does have a point: I intend to make a book out of these collages via Blurb. In the meantime… Keep walking!

 

Why am I smiling? Maurice Ravel, Jean Echenoz and Bob the Crooner!

140619Bob-Le-Crooner

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Paris, 42 rue de l’Yvette. Thursday 15 May 2014, fifty-seven minutes past eleven. Yesterday at Le Rendez-Vous, a brasserie in the 14th arrondissement, I sat at the bar and read Jean Echenoz’s Ravel, a book that traces the story of the last ten years of the composer’s life. Despite the hero’s tragic end, I was happy. Because of discovering some wonderful prose in my reading as well as the strange chap who wrote Bolero. Because of the sunshine in Paris. And because the night before I had started making digital collages. So, some old drawings have re-surfaced, such as Bob the Crooner (above) who you can see, pink with pleasure, up in the clouds. Buddha bless you!

 

Do you dream of a double life? Write an online diary !

Le Boy

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Ostend,  29 Kemmelbergstraat. Tuesday 6 May 2014, thirty-five minutes past one. I’ve just typed ‘online diary’ into the computer and Google has come up with 326 million hits. I am discouraged? Not in the least. The apprentice diarist that I am is not going to be put off by such a little thing. So I go on with the novel of my life. Helped by a 1980s Petit Robert dictionary, a pink propelling pencil and an eraser. In the glass frame adorning my office, there’s ‘The Boy’ (above), a drawing of October 2011, the month when I decided to start leading a kind of double life on the Internet. No regrets… to be continued. Buddha bless you.

 

Writing a diary means amusing oneself to pass the time. Here’s the proof.

Dusty Heart

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Ostend, Belgium. 29 Kemmelbergstraat. Tuesday 6 May 2014, thirty-two minutes past twelve. Now I’m telling you the story of my life, I pay attention to everything that happens to me, and I note down in a little blue Campo Marzio Design exercise book everything about my life’s routine. The purchase of an electric razor, walks, some words heard on the radio, etc. Strangely I have the greatest desire to write when nothing happens. When a sudden shower of rain makes me want to draw a heart in the dust, for example. Here (see above) I feel like a diarist – like an old curmudgeon amusing myself to pass the time. Keep walking…

 

Anti-blues and good luck charm : Ray, a little guy made of wire and sellotape!

The Funambulist

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Ostend, Belgium. 29 Kemmelbergstraat. Tuesday 6 May 2014, twenty-three minutes past nine. This morning while walking along the coast I had a keen sense of being alone. With my hands in the pockets of my parka, alone on the sea wall surrounded by greyness, I watched the sea for a long time. At the end of the jetty a sailing boat headed north. Back in my office I searched for the best photo to banish my blues and chose Ray. He’s the tightrope walker you see before you. Drawn during a period when I was worrying about my career as a DJ, he managed to bring me luck. And ever since, he follows me , tucked in the bottom of my wallet. Buddha bless you!

 

The blogger’s best investments : a pencil and eraser!

42 Rue de l'Yvette, 2014

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Paris, 42 rue de l’Yvette, 6th floor (using the service lift). Every morning, as an unchanging ritual, I write. Sat at my desk by nine o’clock, a cup of Twinings orange and cinnamon tea within easy reach, I compose my thoughts using a Bic Matic (0.7mm) propelling pencil in a 96-page Country exercise book that’s a bit bigger than A4 in size. Between the first draft and the version you’re reading now I correct the text about 15 times. By the time the blog comes back from London, transformed into a little English ditty by the talents of the excellent translator (and friend) Philippa Hurd, a month has gone by. TODAY’S PHOTO  :  Just a spring shower, 2014. Buddha bless you!

My new passion: digital collage!

Future Web-Travelers

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Paris, 42 rue de l’Yvette, 6th floor (no lift). Wednesday 30 April 2014, thirty minutes past nine. These days I’ve been digitizing my old drawings like crazy. It’s painstaking electronic work that allows me, through my Canon camera and the abstract resources that lie dormant in drawers, to bring back to life all kinds of characters drawn in the 1990s. It’s the unexpected magic of pixels that enables the most modest sketch to travel all over the place. Congratulations to the inventors of this process who go strangely unmentioned on Wikipedia: Vint Cerf? Martin Schadt? TODAY’S PHOTO: The Little Old Men, Paris 2014. Buddha bless you!

 

Two new stars in my life as a diarist: Dean Martin and Dmitri Shostakovich!

140530 A fabulous cd

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Courbevoie, La Chancellerie, 67 avenue Gambetta. Building A, 18th floor. Wednesday 23 April 2014, sixteen minutes past ten. In English-speaking countries a diarist is ‘someone who keeps a diary electronically and publishes it on the World Wide Web’. Exactly what I started doing several days ago and which I continue to do for the pleasure of telling you about the two new stars in my electronic life: the crooner Dean Martin whose LPs (from flea markets) give me vintage shivers every time they’re played, and (see above) the double CD of string quartets by Dmitri Shostakovich by the Borodin Quartet. Perfect for a summer morning on a shady terrace overlooking the Bay of Capri. Buddha bless you!

My little online diary – it’s 5 days a week and it’s here!

140528 Some new postcards

NO TALKING SHOP, NO DAILY GRIND. Courbevoie, La Chancellerie, 67 avenue Gambetta. Building A, 18th floor. Wednesday 23 April 2014, thirty-four minutes past nine. For two days I’ve been riveted to a Wikipedia article on the subject of the online diary. I’ve just found my mission: the public declaration of my feelings, frustrations and anger. I can use the World Wide Web to join the long list of diarists, a practice started in the 1990s by Claudio Pinhanez, Bryon Sutherland and Catherine Elizabeth Clay, among others. TODAY’S PHOTO, courtesy of the Polaroid i1237 : several postcard examples of still lifes and women in bathing costumes, my latest craze as a bargain hunter. Keep walking!

 

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