Reading Andy Weir's The Martian, I wish I could write such a fluid text. Exciting but not difficult to read. No Nobel Prize there.

Started the studio again. And my assistant is critically reviewing the work. And take a little nap by the stove in between.

Went out to the studio. Thought I'd start painting but just remember that what I do is outdated and has nothing to do with me anymore. Then I found this old computer and immediately started to write and check how it works.

I've been working with computers and computer graphics for so long now that it's become my real self. When I look at these poor unfinished paintings standing everywhere, I realize that what I was, and how I worked, no longer exists. I have destroyed paintings that I have not progressed with but now I just feel indifferent.

I have tried to find a common link between traditional art and digital art. Some kind of common way of working. An imagery that is transferable. But the way to construct virtual art and sculpture is different. Certainly with many touch points, but in the practical work there are differences that are difficult to bridge.

I'm beginning to realize that the only way to move forward is to either dismantle the painting or try to develop it in some direction that could actually seem at least somewhat sensible. I probably won't finish any of the pictures hanging around. If they do not interest me, no one else will find anything in them Sometimes you could hope that you do not develop for long, but only find quiet sleep in who you are. But it's not the job or the world.