Most weekends, I work. It's what I love so why would I do anything else? My work is divided between a studio in my house and a so-called 'enamel factory' but today, I just wanted to stay home and do nothing. I slept in, then lay in bed for a while watching the surface patterns of the ocean.Later, between loads of washing and drying, I cooked the sort of food my mother used to prepare for me (lentils with mustards seeds, sauteed vegetables and herbs), and listened to music:Blondie (Remastered) and The Essential Collection by Blondie
It's Not Just Sentimental by Otis Redding
Clandestino by Manu Chao
The Seville Concert From The Royal Alcázar Palace and Echoes Of Spain by John Williams
Bach: Morimur by Christoph Poppen and the Hilliard Ensemble
Homogenic by Björk I've played these albums hundreds, if not thousands of times. Each has grown from something I appreciate to an aural reminiscence of specific experiences and moods. In repetition, they've mingled with moments of my life to become intensely personal. Repetition, again: because of it, we form associations and imbue things – and people, places, sensations – with meaning.