Sometimes I forget I make a thing, then I find the thing, and I’m impressed at the thing. This was going to become a colour by numbers, hence the limited colour palette.
Here’s my travel poster for The Crunch, which I’ve never even been to.
"I suppose my happiest relationship has been with the director I worked with many times, Rudolph Cartier. We had a lot in common mentally and we got on well, so it was a great pleasure in those days to work on shows where we both knew we were taking risks, and Rudi was ready to take fearful chances technically. I think he was the only person in the BBC who would have attempted or succeeded in bringing off those early Quatermass shows at that time. The director had to carry an awful lot of responsibility. Now, much more is taken by the additional invented personnel, and of course the technical wizardry that surrounds any show. The personal load is less."
"I suppose children did watch and occasionally I'm approached by someone who says 'I remember the first Quatermass and I was three years old and I hid behind the sofa...' and that stuff, and my answer is: 'You shouldn't have been watching, you should have been in bed,' because we did warn. We did our best to see that small people didn't watch them because we knew that we were exciting, or trying to excite, veins of unease in the viewers - and whereas an adult can cope, a small immature mind can't cope with suggestions of that kind. Even background music can give nightmares."
"[On the success of Quatermass:] I suppose it's a help in probably the wrong way. Because what it tends to bring me is people who say, 'Can we do another Quatermass?' or something like that. Also, you get typed. You have a successful career up to a certain point, then you say, 'I want to break away and do something different.' But they go, 'No, do what you've done before. We can sell that, we know we can sell it.' It takes a lot of determination to fight that off."
too much
too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.
laughter or
tears
haters
lovers
strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks
armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.
or an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.
there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.
but sometimes I think about
it.
the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.
too much
too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody
more haters than lovers.
people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.
meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.
there must be a way.
surely there must be a way we have not yet
thought of.
who put this brain inside of me?
it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.
it will not say
"no."