Blog Archives

Big Sky

Painted the year I was born. Better than Turner for my money.

Note to self to get to the Tate before the 8th January (Elvis, my sister and daughter’s godfather’s birthday – not listed in order of importance)

Eifellandschaft (Strasse) Oils 1969, Gerhard Richter

What’s to be done with a void?

The only person I know who embraces one is the Guv’nor. It means he can pick up the keys, bowl in and do a full deck with no tenant breathing down his neck or worse. If all he ever did was voids he would be as happy as Larry (whoever he was). In ALMO or old council housing speak, a void is an empty property. Burnt out, flooded or simply trashed and abandoned the decorating squad would go in and give it a few coats of eggshell. White or magnolia to save breaking out a new roller and brush. No fancy wallpaper, no-one making your ears bleed about the damp. Lovely jubbly.

If only we could slap a coat of paint on our own voids and make them right over into swell pads for their inhabitants, we would not only be filling in the gaps, we would also be coining it in rent. Double bubble.

Rather inconveniently it is never so simple. We do it though don’t we. Clothe the void, feed the void, pimp the void. Still it remains. Maybe all that we are is in there, if only we could find it.

I feel bound to add, for those readers who might be related to me: I am fine. I’m down with mine.