You know the catchphrase in Shaun of the Dead ‘You’ve got red on you’? Well, that was a sure description of me, my clothes and my knackered old desk last night, after a pot of Winsor & Newton’s finest Vermilion drawing ink decided to stage an impromptu blood bath worthy of a Tarantino film in my ‘studio’.
There I was, chatting away on the phone to my old Dad, attempting to tidy away the art paraphernalia that had spread itself speedily across my desk while I was finishing a commission for my friend’s new flat (first time I’ve ever had to create something to suit the frame, rather than vice versa), when suddenly I was subjected to an art (materials) attack. Red drops of what, frankly, looked like blood started spattering down from somewhere, then pouring into a violently expanding pool of shocking colour.
At first I thought I’d cut myself, apparently painlessly for that amount of blood flow. Then I realised the culprit was the dangerously strong Vermilion ink pot, whose cheeky little lid I may have failed to secure appropriately. Result? Me swearing a lot as I try to save the new drawings (which I actually love a bit) from the advancing red tide, trying to hang up the phone with ‘blood’ on my hands, mopping frantically and ineffectively at my now-pink wooden workspace, and ending up with bright pink palms and fingertips. It was a total mess.
And now? Now I’m having a Lady Macbeth moment, while I mutter ‘Out damned spot, out I say…’ every time I attempt to wash/ scrub my hands clean. At least, unlike the doomed Lady, my red-stained hands aren’t imagined. Last thing I need now is to have to be seeing a shrink…