I know it's rather showy offy, but look at this collection of my collagraphs at the house of friends of ours. Am I embarrassed, and determined to brush the whole thing off as rather ridiculous? Obviously! Of course I am. Nevertheless, it's sort of exciting too, a little bit of a thrill. Inevitably I look at them and think, hmm, that isn't so good, that bit there, and really those colours, I'm not at all sure. And so on and so forth to the end of time. I'm not wrong either, but how often have I ever been completely pleased with my work? Put it this way, a second hand will definitely not be needed for counting on fingers. What I know I should do in this case is shut up and be pleased that out there, in the world, is a wall of my prints.
I make prints and book arts, though nowhere near as often as I'd like - no good reason, just an inability to get on with things. I occasionally go on about landscape (with which I am mildly obsessed) and various of its elements, and I like to pass comment on exhibitions I visit.