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While doing some important (ahem) research for the Nine Trades project, I dug out a few Broons books from my substantial collection of annuals, and found this nice little image of the but an' ben. It's a classic from around 1967, drawn by the original Broons and Oor Wullie artist, Dudley D Watkins. You don't often get to see the whole house, and I know I'm going to sound like a bit of a nerd here but the shape of it occasionally changes – sometimes there are two chimneys, other times just one. If I'm to recreate an almost full-size model of the but an' ben entirely out of newspaper in the McManus Gallery, as planned, I'll need to find out exactly what the interior is like, too. This obviously means an awful lot more research. In the next few days I will be holed up in the studio with a stack of annuals, a large pot of tea and a sketchbook. It's hard work, but someone's got to do it.

Wolves and other howlers

I have just finished a commission for Arts Admin at Bethnal Green old town hall, which featured a moose head and a Persian carpet, so I've been thinking a lot about animals - some native to our shores and others not. This howling wolf at the McManus is pretty spectacular. It's hard to imagine that they once roamed all over Scotland.

I have been told that there are still red squirrels in the city: apparently they're hiding out in Camperdown Park. I've never seen one but like many of the facts about Dundee that I have gleaned over the years (mainly from my mum and The Broons), they have become part of my own slightly mythical version of the city.

Another howler that I came across in the gallery was a tiny spelling mistake in an exhibit about the publisher DC Thomson. Having worked on copy for so many years, it's hard not to spot typos and literals in just about any bit of printed matter I see. Some might say it is a curse. It's certainly with no satisfaction that I point this out to you, dear reader - and I only do so to share with you the pain of the off-duty sub-editor, trying to get by, if only for one day, without involuntarily zoning in on the smallest error in the tiniest scrap of text.

Phew, I'm glad I've got that off my chest. Now I can move on to the job in hand, which will involve an awful lot of newspaper, some glue and absolutely no sub-editing skills whatsoever.

Looking up

Being a journalist and an artist means constantly having to adjust my viewfinder. In my trade, I work very closely with text, often zooming in on the tiniest detail - like a comma that's been incorrectly input in bold, or a double space between two words (OK, this is not the most glamorous part of my job). But in the studio it's all about stepping back, taking a wide-angle view, not getting too bogged down in the minutiae of the work. The transition between my two worlds is not always easy.

This picture, taken at the McManus Galleries in Dundee, does quite weird things to my eyes. It really looks like a camera aperture, doesn't it? Or a pupil. When you focus on the dark bit in the middle it seems to expand and contract. George Gilbert Scott created a very neat little optical illusion here, but you've got to look right up to see it. What a brilliant piece of kinetic art. It made me think of Aubrey Beardsley, too.