Silk

Day 42

Right now I am involved in that well known artist's occupation - waiting for paint to dry. Yesterday, I started on my silk samples for the book, and today I needed to re-do a couple of them. I'd forgotten how time consuming silk-painting was, how many processes there are, and how much drying time it all takes.

First I draw out the design, then pin the drawing to a board beneath a sheet of perspex. I stretch the silk over, taking care not to distort the grain too much, and fill in all the outlines with Gutta. When that is dry, I pin the silk to a stretcher frame, pulling it taut, before mixing and applying the paints. When the paint is properly dry, I remove it from the frame and roll it in endless pieces of old sheeting, before finally coiling it up, securing it with masking tape and covering it in a tin-foil cap.

Then it gets put into my ratty old pressure cooker and covered with a piece of towelling to catch the drips. The rubber seal for my pressure cooker disintegrated years ago, but I improvise - I cover everything with another piece of tin-foil before putting the lid on, squeezing it tight, and pinching one of my sons dumb-bell weights to put on top. The whole thing steams for at least an hour, then it all gets dismantled again.

The silk is left to dry, then I wash it with some vinegar in the water, roll it in a towel and squeeze it dry, then I iron it whilst damp on a clean cloth. Then I have to mount the things, carefully trying to get the lines exactly straight again. No wonder my eyes are starting to cross a bit.

I think maybe one has to be a little bit OCD to enjoy all of this fussing around, and I do actually, so that says it all really. When this book is finished, I might let myself just mess about with silk painting for a bit and see what I come up with. I never had to confidence to free-form with it before, but since I did my Art Foundation Course, I'll try anything, just to see how it turns out. Don't care if it's rubbish any more - that's called research, apparently.

By the end of today, I will have everything I need to start contacting publishers and agents about my book. There is no point going further with the illustrations until I have somebody interested in taking it to the next stage. They may prefer me to use a different medium of style for the illustrations, so spending hundreds of pounds on silk-painting supplies when we are on the dole makes no sense.

I wonder what will happen next - will anybody actually be interested? Will this book finally get published and put onto a shelf at Waterstones? Will anybody buy it? Will anybody like it? I am scared and excited in equal measure. It will be cool to be able to say "I am a published author", but as this is a book for three year olds, I will also feel a bit of a fraud. It is neither fine art or high literature. But then, neither is 'Spot the dog', so that's OK. It all feels a bit weird, though.