Boxing Day [#261224]

26/12/24

It’s tradition in my hometown of Wigan to go out and celebrate in fancy dress on Boxing Day. I don’t know where it came from and I don’t know if it’s always been like that. People used to come from all over to celebrate on King Street and out in town, they would pile in, and stumble out, of pubs, bars and clubs until the early hours of the morning. I know the Manchester Evening News, I think it was, used to cover it. There would always be a photo of a girl passed out, using a slice of garlic bread as a pillow after over-imbibing throughout the evening.

Me and my mates used to love it. The streets were full and alive with people out for a good time. Most of those people were out for an excessive time, really. My definition of fancy dress was always to wear as much random and colorful stuff as possible: beads, sparkly, reflective goods, fluorescent colours, obnoxiously patterned paraphernalia ETC… People often asked me what I was, as though I would be able to answer them easily. “Gay Disco Pirate!” or “I don’t know!” were two of my more memorable answers.

In the studio this morning and I am really wrestling with this large painting. It is not doing what I want it to do. In thinking about this, I have had a mini realisation that to destroy what we have created is both letting go of and taking back control simultaneously. On the one hand, I am obliterate a face with the roughest sandpaper one can by destroying the mess I have made and creating another mess in the process. And on the other, because, it was not doing what I want it to do, I have decided that what I want to do next is to destroy it and that in itself is an act of control, AN ACT OF TAKING CONTROL.

The painting looks totally different now. I am wondering if it will work, I have faith it will, but maybe it’s just not meant to be.