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I can’t draw a straight line, nor with charcoal sketch, Blowing glass for me sucks; brass I find hard to etch, Fine painting on canvas is not my forté, Whether oil or watercolour, my brush tends to stray. It goes against my grain, carving out of wood, Chiseling sculptures from marble, as if I could? Me and pottery, oh! What a mess, My pots don’t hold water, their handles even less. I’m illiterate with music; staves resemble a barcode, Hand me a violin, I’ll ask where to blow, Holding a note is OK as long as it’s B flat, I’m tone deaf with anything more musical than that. No! Photography is my art form of choice, shooting angles others overlook, Composition, exposure and processing seldom done by the Nikon book, Combined with incites of humour or profound poetry, Permits self-expression projecting my unique personality. — Philip Wood |