Triptych

In the face of Lee’s unstructured, undisciplined Combined Arts course I find it difficult to muster any great enthusiasm for my chore of reading, reading, reading.

He’s hardly been into College in the last week but is planning several projects: a painted triptych, based on a self portrait of what he is and was and hopes to be; various film experiments—films projected simultaneously onto the same spot, say a figure sitting in a corner filmed from three separate angles, these films then projected onto and over same figure sitting in same spot at the angle from which the film was taken; plus he’s continuing with his 3-D photographs. He’s meeting a woman from the ICA who’s developed similar ideas.

Doug is here to stay for the weekend; tonight was a high-spirited evening. Ade came round, and while he, Doug and Barry smoked dope in the front room I lounged about watching Lee paint his room; grey walls, black skirting boards and door panels . . .

I painted my door black.

For most of the time everyone (apart from Lee and I) watched the Superbowl Final, Redskins vs. Raiders. The latter won 38-9. Then I entertained everyone for a little while by pouring lighter fuel over my hand and lighting it, which seemed to amuse them and earned me £5 from Barry. Doug took a photograph.