I wouldn’t normally write about something as mundane as an alarm clock, but I’ll make an exception just this once. I’ve been looking for an alternative to waking up in the dark to the sounds of your typical hideous, alarm beeping noise for quite some time. Now I’ve found an alternative to floundering around in the dark trying to find the damn alarm clock to switch it off. It’s called a Wake-up light and is a much gentler and less jarring experience in those early hours of the morning. Basically you are woken up by light filling the room gradually (you can change the brightness) and then by a noise of your choice (either the radio, birds, water or other natural sounds, you choose). There’s even a huge snooze button on top of it, which you can’t miss should you decide to throw a shoe at it.

It made me realise that sometimes we put up with things for years, because no-one has thought of a better alternative.  Now, at last, there exists an alarm clock for those sensitive-to-mornings types, who wake up grumpy as I do and think that having to leave for work in the dark is obscene enough as it is without being crudely awakened by some horrid shrill sound. I thank the designer for saving those of us allergic to early mornings from some of the anguish of getting up. He or she has turned what is essentially a bedside lamp into a radio/wake-up device that’s not too painful.

Now, I’d love someone to invent a windscreen that automatically demists, defrosts and cleans itself without you having to stand in the cold scraping off the ice. Have you ever thought of any ideas to make something mundane more attractive?

Will Self follows the practice of exploring the not so obvious and has written a book about psychogeography. Psychogeography is the study of how geographical environments affect emotions and behavior. In its simplest terms it is about exploring our immediate surrounding spaces: instead of just getting into your car/on the bus/train or taxi, you explore your environment outside of these confines. You can as Will Self did, walk to Heathrow airport instead of getting a taxi there and see what you find, although I wouldn’t advocate walking 20 miles.

I agree that we should explore our immediate environment more, but my explorations have been on a smaller scale. I work in a “business park” surrounded by car parks. But is this all there is in my immediate environment? The answer I discovered is no. After a few brief forays at lunchtime, I discovered that apart from roundabouts and paths through housing estates, I am also quite near to a large cemetery and a wood as well as a rural walk through fields to a small village nearby. The fringes of the city have always fascinated me. Where does urbanity end and the countryside begin?

Suburban housing estates act as buffer zones between inner city and rural life. They are the places were most people live, but are the least idyllic and fashionable to some. Looked down on as inferior by those in city loft apartments or expensive villagey thatched cottages, the suburbs are the least explored and the most ignored. When we choose to go on walks, we either follow a historic city walk seeing “important historic sites” or opt for a Romantic country walk up mountains or alongside rivers or fields.

The most informative walks I’ve ever done have been around my own neighbourhood. I’ve often taken walks around my immediate home or work environment and when I moved to my current housing estate, one of the first things I did was to explore it. To me I can see no inferiority in these types of environments. In fact I find their lack of pretentiousness refreshing. I’ve often felt stifled and intensely irritated by some of the fashionable neighbourhoods of London. I can’t spend more than a few hours rambling around Hampstead or Chelsea without feeling the urgent desire to leave and get back to “normality” at last. To get away from fake village charm and shops selling completely useless expensive junk. To escape the company of overly perfumed women with tiny dogs and gaudy designer handbags. Or loud conversations that everyone is meant to hear but where the subject matter is invariably dull. (I once had a conversation about designer handbags with a friend and we both concluded that on the whole most are incredibly ugly, gaudy creations, but the Emporer’s new clothes have always been alluring for the wealthily deluded. I’ve always thought that followers of fashion have little taste.)

Since moving to my present housing estate, I’ve discovered it has meandering walks that you can follow alongside roads, houses or fields, past graffiti walls and gnome-bedecked gardens. It has ancient churches with funny gargoyles, shops selling anything you could possibly need, wooden mushroom sculptures in the park and small mazes created from hedges for children. I’ve always felt happy living here and never feel as if I have to compete with anybody in terms of clothes, cars, gardens, pets or any other symbols of status. In fact, whenever I’m in need of inspiration or just to have a think, I put on my coat and head to the door for my next adventure.

Ever wondered what happens to some of our junk and unwanted items?

When I was on holiday in Morocco, I bought a small sculpture of a bird fashioned from discarded engine parts and reclaimed metal implements. What a great idea for making sculptures; discarded metal junk taking on a new form.

Recently I read about an artist who makes insects and spiders from scissors confiscated in American airports because they are deemed unacceptable to be taken on the plane. The idea of the contraband scissors being made into spiders seems both sinister and amusing at the same time.

A friend recently sent me a link about struggling artists in New York working in a supermarket while they waited for their “lucky break” (see http://nymag.com/guides/money/2007/39958/).

The question I have is this: can you still define yourself as an artist when you work nearly full-time in a supermarket? Are you not just a shelf stacker? Who are you trying to kid, yourself or others, or both? Is it not better to be honest with yourself and admit that the majority of your time is spent not doing something creative and fun but boring and tedious?

This made me think about myself. When people ask me what my profession is I never say “artist”, but tell them what my day job is (although I think my job is a lot more interesting than selling pots of yoghurt and organic carrots). But if you asked some of these New York, creative, shelf stackers they would probably say “I’m an artist/actor/film director/…”. Maybe it’s a cultural difference. When I visited New York, all I could hear from others conversations was how they were really an “actor”, “artist”, “film director”, “musician” and they just did the day job to earn money. Does it make them feel better to think in this way? Can you define yourself by what you do for the minority of your time?

Maybe it depends on how passionate you are about something and that is what defines you. Or maybe it is to do with how seriously you take your interests. I prefer to take my day job more seriously than that and I see it as being a bit pretentious to deny what you do for the majority of your day. Or perhaps I should try it. The next time someone asks me I’ll say, “I’m really an artist”.

Welcome to the blog for how-to-be-a-bad-artist.com, an addition to my website where I share art, craft and selling techniques for the hell of it.

I created this site after reading many art techniques books, attending many art courses (including a degree course at Chelsea) and painting and drawing for many years with varying degrees of success. I got a little sick of slick textbooks showing you in ten steps how incredibly easy it is to create an artwork, making everything look perfect when in fact creating anything arty crafty is tricky and sometimes frustrating. Listening to others criticism (or even derision) can be even harder.

You won’t find any descriptions of me wandering in poppy fields, whipping out a set of watercolours, paper and an easel and creating an amazing work of art in ten seconds. I doubt that any artist does that. No, instead I will tell you how it is, what difficulties I’ve encountered, my experiences of selling and exhibitions, and where to find inspiring places for artists to visit.

Here are my simple steps to becoming a bad artist:

Step one: Start thinking of yourself as a creative person. In your head you are an artist, whether it’s music, drawing, painting, writing, woodwork, ice sculptures or whatever you’re interested in.

Two: Forget niggling worries or doubt. This includes those “I can’t draw” thoughts and negative comments you remember from your art teacher, such as “You can’t draw”.

Three: Plug your ears against unconstructive criticism. This includes tuts and sniggers from partners, friends, children, parents and pets (yes it can seem that even the cat can have a quiet opinion at times).

Four: Treat yourself to those art materials you’ve always fancied trying out. Hell, why not try “painting by numbers” if that is what you really want to do.

Five: Read some of the tips on my website, completely ignore everything I’ve said and give it a go.

Tip for the week

Did you know?…You can install a blog on your own website. This is incredibly advantageous in terms of marketing your site as any interest in your blog will be directed towards your website and not a host blog site. As you can see I’ve installed Wordpress. They let you download their software and use it for free. If you are not a techy, they also offer a service of installing their software on your site for free!