Snowbirds in the sun

Superb day outside, all halloween orange and chimney red with a pin sharp wedgewood sky. Set out early for my painting slot at Ritchie Collins gallery so I could catch the passing trade that I hoped would be out and about catching some sun-borne vitamins. Sure enough, my first visitors, who so, so nearly bought one of my bigger pics (hopefully they will return!) had a hangover and were walking it off in the autumnal crispy air. Also had a daughter who is away travelling in Thailand and Vietnam, so we had a good exchange of experiences about that too; it is always a pleasure meeting people in the gallery, they must be officially the best demographic to 'serve'. I use the speech marks as I hardly qualify as a server in a hand-behind-the-back, yessirnosir, canIgetyounanythingelsesir? whilst I am sitting cross legged swigging tea and creating hand made Christmas cards in a little production line on the floor. Had it in mind to do some angels and specifically angels in trees, as Elton's lyric 'You tell me there's an angel in my tree; did he say he'd come to call on me?' is still on loop in my head. Ended up painting skinny long snowmen with bird-like faces, which I rather liked, and some angels who looked like vases with wings. Used some make and do techniques with sticky-on paper, potato prints and biro - really enjoyable after doing so many bigger paintings and I may be able to transfer some of the ways of working onto the box canvases, which I like but find can get a bit stilted it I'm not careful. I find canvas easier than I thought to work on but still slower than board as the brush doesn't whizz over the surface as easily!

I'm off now to hole up in the studio for the rest of the evening as this is my only big lump of time to paint for the rest of the week; lots of running around picking up and taking paintings places, which is good but erodes my valuable painting time... Hoping to get a good way to finishing Bun Hanzo tonight as I have lots of cut potatoes and other ideas for paint pattern effects. Far too many ideas today to be honest; one of those frustrating ones where I could have done with a few pairs of hands and treble the time at hand. Ah well, no point in moaning, sold another pic today so the drip, drip of sales continues and each time another one goes out into the world, another person will hopefully turn to a friend and show them their new artwork; and so it goes on...

Someone or something flying in the air

Pleased as I am to be looking at over 150 posts in my year of 'breakthrough' painting, it is also a somewhat disturbing proposition to be still looking at well over 150 more. It makes me think of my original inspiration, writer Julie Powell's year long blog and cooking fest. working through the recipes of Julia Child. Looking at the film based on it while flying to Vietnam I was impressed at her achievement; now I view it as nothing short of miraculous. The discipline to get on and write, and in her instance cook (in mine, paint) every single day is hard won to say the least. So many things conspire to steal your time and attention - and I am speaking as someone with no children! Wowsers, I really do have a great deal of appreciation of anyone who manages to bring up kids in a reasonable manner; still not sure I could have done it and remained sane and at liberty.

Listening, at last (first had to feed cats, but away shopping and talk to both mothers) to a new Richmond Fontaine album; I have been in love with another one of theirs for a few months and this is essentially more of the same in a good way. Kind of bleak, but great lyrics and music. I don't think I am able to enjoy music without good words even if the music itself is monumentally accomplished. I am one of those people who pride themselves on knowing all the lyrics to their favourite songs and have to listen to things over and over with this aim in mind; notable exceptions include the first Kings of Leon album, where Mr Followill's accent is so thick and indecipherable the sleeve notes are the only way. Then you have to listen to the album over and over going 'oh yeah, he does say that....kind of..'

Bought Stu a new Rome-related book in a charity shop; once you start the floodgates are open and we will probably one day have a truly extensive library on the subject. This one is by Thucydides; the History of the Peloponnesian War - I have to assume that Stu will know what this is all about as I have no idea, but I'm sure he will enjoy it at some point. I have bought so many now he has a backlog and is still meandering through 'Lives of the Twelve Caesars'.

Also had a wee spluge in a fantastic craft/art/random shop and bought three coloured pencils (really cool big chunky ones), two greetings cards and a blank calendar for illustrating at some point in all this spare time I don't have. Fact is, this felt like such a major, extravagent purchase, which is cool in itself. It's really worthwhile cutting right back so that the tiniest treat seems gargantuan. (Such a great word and I so rarely get to use it in a sentence.) Both cards are illustrations/paintings of figurative nature; one a pen and ink of a girl in pyjamas sitting with a giant owl by Frans Wesselman, the other a not dissimilar girl with a bird on her shoulder by Catriona Millar. Makes me happy and terrified that there are so many talented artists out there that I have never heard of. Happy that I can keep discovering and learning, terrified that I will become lost in a sea of great artists and vanish without trace. Which is why I battle on day after day on my little blog, rowing with my little oars across the vast expanse of featureless sea waving my hanky on a stick and a hand-written paper sign saying 'Hello, would you like to see my pictures? Maybe a passing tern pausing to soar down and have a read before sweeping away again on the next breeze; maybe a turtle popping its head up from the briney depths and slowly reading the line before blinking and submerging again. Maybe a sea duck bobbing slowly by, cocking its head and asking 'May I have a look?'

Birds, angels, flying fish; I definately have a thing about wings.

Nesting

My mind is a blank. I am in cashdayjob mode and I have been trying to think of patterns to use in my Bun Hanzo painting all day but customers kept getting in the way... Stu has been messing with carving the obeche frames with lino cutting tools and then painting, sanding, painting them with results that I feel may go somewhere pretty interesting. Last two frames in for painting and sanding for the angels and the Number Four pictures; also managed a quick bash on the little box canvas this morning before work. This is for the Marchmont Gallery and the only spec. is 'wintry', so I am going for blues in colour and the song in my head is a Laura Marling track off her latest album where she sings of scarfs and England covered in snow. Lovely song although I can't remember the track title. Thinking about how much I love the French language; 'nom de plume'. Excellent.

Dinner beckons, the cats are wandering restlessly and the radio is chatting away; it is stormy outside but all in here is warm from the oven. Pretty good in the world.

In the Rambles

Following threads tonight; wondering what I did before the internet allowed me to do so. Drew some doodles of ladies with antlers and couldn't get the antlers right - searched 'moose' and 'reindeer'. Remembered that I was wondering about the great portrait of Hemingway that I had in my head because Mary C. C. had mentioned him in her gig the other night - searched and found the Karsh picture of him in his huge chunky jumper. Remembered how good Karsh was and couldn't believe I'd forgotten about him; looked at a lot of Karsh pictures. Remembered Georgia O'Keefe because of Karsh's fantastic pictures of her; looked at her paintings and images of the artist herself. Drew some more sketches of ladies with antlers and bit thick jumpers, also some with bunny ears and snowflakes; I'm thinking wintry box canvases here. Drew some knitted fish as I have a wee bit of a thing for them at the moment. Discussed the possibility of making wooden fish with knitted jumpers. Listened to Elton John on the Electric Proms and found one of my favourite but forgotten angel quotes:

"You tell me there's an angel in your tree,

Did he say he'd come to call on me?" (Burn down the Mission)

Doodled more patterns for potential use in Bun Hanzo painting which is going well, although amidst all my ramblings tonight I didn't do any actual work on the board, just ideas of which road to head down with it. Looking at really chunky patterns of flowers, seventies wallpaper mixed with Japanese flowers and wave patterns.

Had a great dinner despite the fact that some of the crucial ingredients were found to be past their prime ie: a stir fry mix in the bottom of the fridge had turned to mush. Tricky when planning a stir fry. This is when it is handy to have a chef in the house - had a great wee braised rice thing instead with our yummy curried pork burgers, while listening to Elton and looking up stuff on the laptop...

Got 'Violent Cop' in the post, the directorial debut of Beat Takeshi, whose film 'Zatoichi' triggered the whole painting I am now playing with.

A Me day

Carrying out my own weird and largely inefficient form of multi-tasking today. Involves starting activities in various parts of the house and then moving between them, never quite finishing one before moving off to complete another segment of the next. Right now I am cooking dinner (pans washed, sweet potato cut, recipe outline sketched in head ) painting a picture background of certain sections finished and waiting to dry), blogging (right here, right now) and cleaning the house (hoovered two rooms, fixed drip in shower, wiped window sills). Also managed to carry on obscure conversations by phone to both mums, mine and Stu's, which revolved around whether there are caves in Edinburgh, the ineptitude of mum's new vicar, weather (no-brainer), need or lack of shopping, traffic on Dartmoor, cats and their behaviour... all pretty important stuff.

I was supposed to be going to Glasgow today for the 'return to the Mitchell' to collect my unselected paintings for the RGI show. However, this is not entirely correct, as I luckily discovered before I drove to Glasgow; yesterday, I was supposed to be picking up unselected paintings from the Mitchell... Slightly stupid on behalf of the RGI, it has to be said, to inform submitters of this change on the rejection slips - I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only one who didn't read any further than "I am sorry, but....not selected...yada yada..". So.. have to go back next week to retrieve my paintings in my own special slot for those who failed to read the correct information; looking on the bright side, at least they might remember my name next time. In fact, it makes not a blind bit of difference to me and meant that an unscheduled day off was suddenly and tantalisingly at my disposal - hence the mad multi-tasking.

Also popped into the Marchmont Gallery to see Sophie and collect the two pictures that they have had since early summer but sadly not sold - they are now being reframed and sent to Number Four in St Abbs as I still have high hopes for them and they fit really well with the others I had earmarked for that show. The added bonus news is that they are happy to take some smaller pieces (as yet uncreated) for their winter show, which starts in December; more fun things to work on. She is quite keen on the idea of the good old box canvases, so that is the next thing to trouble my mind about; it also means a wee hat trick of shows for December, which is a most positive end to the year and decade. Come the spring I will be out of the gates fast, furious and ready to kick some ass, no doubt about it...

Listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter again tonight thinking - small, blonde creative depression sufferer who likes animals, music, art, books and solitude. No wonder I relate to her.

Is it too much to ask?

Long, long ago when I was first living in Edinburgh, having moved up 'on a whim and a prayer' to live in a cold bedsit on Dalkeith Road, I scribbled the entire lyrics to Mary Chapin Carpenter's 'Passionate kisses' in my sketchbook. The first line poses the question we must all have shouted into the dark on occasion - ' is it too much to ask?' - and continues a list of requirements including 'a comfortable bed that won't hurt my back... warm clothes and all of that stuff', culminating 'and- passionate kisses from you'. The single girl's lament; give me what I was promised, what I am due - that which my mother and society led me to believe is the minimum requirement for life. Thus began a love affair with Mary's music that finally took me to the Queen's Hall tonight to see the lady in the flesh; older, life-threatening illness later, and still, herself, the single lady of years ago. I have no qualms about my fondness for 'country' or folk music; I grew up on it and it has been the soundtrack to many a dark moment and long, questioning day. Taking Stu along was more of a worry, but I needn't have done so - plenty for the guitar anorak among an awesome selection of Nashville's (and many other state's) finest session musicians. It is always amazing to see live music, and seeing professionals of thirty-odd year's service walk through their multiple instrumental parts and harmonies is a joyous occasion for me. Great as well, in a repeat of the Joan Armatrading gig, to find such a huge, undiminished voice inside such a tiny fifty-something lady; Mary's alto live was so familiar but still caught me by surprise in its intensity and clarity. She used it well, too, in expansive between-song banter that took in Hemingway and a five-'wanker' rant about Sarah Palin. Go girl.

So there you go - another benefit of growing older in years; unapologetic love of country music and worship of ballsy female heroes who have sustained me through my own journey. It is inspiring to me to see other figures who have followed their little creative path over hurdles and pitfalls to come out a stronger individual with clear views of their own requirements from the world. Mary is, of course, a woman after my own heart with her admissions to spending her favourite time in her Virginia (Blue Ridge Mountains no less) farm with a multitude of animals, spending solitary time on the porch at twilight or cosying in her pyjamas.

The support act was also a highlight for me; Tift Merritt is another singer-songwriter of countyish persuasion although she crosses over more into the murky territory of rock/americana/dot dot dot. First saw Tift supporting Teddy Thompson in the same venue and have since become word-perfect in all of her beautiful songs, so I could mumble along tonight while worrying about her stark, vulnerable performance - purely accoustic and solo. Her songs and voice are intense and personal, so the frailty of her little figure at the guitar and piano was quite poignant when compared in retrospect to the well-oiled machine that supported Mary C C. The contrast between the two reinforced the feeling of a journey; the young songwriter just breaking through - a Grammy for 'Mixtape' on her new album (which wasn't on the set list, sadly, but would have been a bitch to do solo) and the older, wiser veteran returning to the craft she knows so well after an illness that must have scared the bollocks off her. Or, as the programme notes would have it, made her reevaluate life and learn about gratitude.

Music feeds the soul. I feel well sated after that.

A little neurosis in the night

I remember being told off by an ex for announcing that my theme tune should be 'All Apologies' by Nirvana; my neurosis annoyed him and he always wanted me to be another different, assertive and non-apologetic person. Funnily enough, that (among countless other reasons) is why he is an ex. Accepting my little ways and not letting them get the upper hand has taken me years since then and the process is far from complete; I just try to let myself be and nurture it towards a potential future where strange triggers don't send me into a cortisol frenzy.

The gallery has been pestered by kids on and off since I have worked there, and they function like wolves - they can smell my fear and prey on it. Yesterday I found myself in a real chemical stress hormone spin as they refused to leave and nipped away at me in a way horribly similar to the bullies I had the pleasure of attracting at school; a lot of postive mental stuff has been necessary over the last 24 hours and even now I am finding myself reliving passages of time for no reason. Kids can be total bastards, as I'm sure is scientifically proven; one of the things they latched onto and picked on me for as a child was the fact that my dad was in a mental hospital. He was, because he was dying of an undiagnosed brain tumour; I was weak and the bullies tormented me ruthlessly. No wonder I have a bit of a jumpy reaction to kids; maybe no wonder I don't have any.

Apart from that, all good. Thought I might do myself good in getting that off my chest as I can feel these things burning away unresolved and the 'blog as therapy' theory has a lot going for it!

Got a text from Ritchie today to say that he went to the 'Art off the Rock' fundraiser for Artlink in Stirling last night and my two postcards sold in the anonymous auction 'on the bell'. Buyers line up with their red dots to lay claim to paintings at the sound of a bell; they fetch £20-£30 each so I feel proud and worthy that I have done my bit and managed to flog them! He met June Carey, big hero, and bought one of her etchings; I really want to get one for my baby art collection too so maybe this time next year if not before! Something I want to concentrate on a bit next year when I am able to breathe a little easier on the financial front all things going to plan...

Feeling absolutely shattered tonight and tossing up between a well-earned nap and a few hours on Bun Hanzo, which is a painting I want to take my time over, so maybe the nap wins tonight...

Learning in Colour

So many things floating in my brain, so little time.. a good thing for the start of a post; only hope it ends up vaguely coherant. Spent the day in the gallery with Stu today, him helping out priming canvases and providing a sounding board and conversation which is something usually lacking in my normally solitary weekend occupation. Sadly we didn't get much in the way of chatty customers today; I have met some fantastic people and wandered off on subjects most varied in my gallery sitting duties but not on this occasion. I moved around some more ideas in my head though and started the ellusive Bun Hanzo painting tonight. What I love about painting is the learning process, as long as you have the kind of nature that can go 'Oh, that's how you do it' or more precisely; 'Ah, that's a better way of producing the marks that I am seeing in my head and thus get the old hand/eye co-ordination thing to do its stuff'. Sometimes this happens all at once, like today, when a series of things gang up on you to reveal one blatantly obvious fact that has never quite sunk in. I remember vividly, not so many moons ago, realising that (bear with me here, its obvious but hard to verbalise) you only need to use the marks you want or need to. In other words, when drawing an outline of an eye, you don't necessarily need to go right around the eye; sometimes a tiny mark will suggest the rest. Told you it was obvious. The next extension of this is that the tiniest bit of colour left or placed on an image can make a giant difference to the end result. I love writers who think about all the words and how each one sits in a sentence. Sure, they don't write a blockbuster a year, but what they do write can be so vivid and beautiful it comes close to painting or exceeds it in ability to conjour an image.

I have started Bun by secitoning off areas with masking tape so I can concentrate on each panel individually, making a kind of collage without collaging; I also hope this will make me think more about the elements of the picture plane and how they relate to each other in creating the whole.

It also means a compromise from my initial idea, which was to use actual collage. One of the things I like about the way I work, however, is incorporating the patterns on the board surface rather than cutting and sticking (not that there is anything wrong with this, I just like the other way), hence the use of masking on this one. I imagine it will take a while, but I have a while and I am interested in how this will work. Note; if you never hear of this painting again, your own conclusions can be drawn.

Also, and quite excitingly, I was reminded by a Facebook friend of the work of Odilon Redon, who I haven't looked at in aeons and whose colour blew me away as well as his drawing and use of charcoal and pastel. Co-incidentally I was looking at pastel earlier on June Carey's piece for the 'Art off the Rock' auction which is taking place in Stirling tonight. Never really used pastel but in a ballsy way it is pretty cool; there are too many awful insipid pastel pictures out there which I think put me off using it at school/college. Maybe one too many diversions for just now; there are enough ideas and mediums out there for a few lifetimes, that is the problem, and a few hundred if you have a part-time job!! So, Odilon is my hero du jour, and I will be gazing at some of his amazing paintings and sinister illustrations later.

The other phrase I wrote during the day was 'the manga in me' which refers again to the Bun Hanzo picture, who seems to be one of those 'characters' who spring fully formed out of my pencil - the comic books of my youth (Halo Jones anyone?) obviously still close enough in the filing system to access for this one. It is weird how some things just seem so natural to draw and so frustrating when trying to come up with ideas on a specific theme for a competition, exhibition etc. or just because people tell you that you 'should' be painting something else. This is before you realise that the best bet is to tell them to **** off and paint what springs out naturally, however strange and wonderous it may be....

Thanks to another friend for the following quote which was part of the general outpouring on the subject of Monsieur Redon:

'My drawings inspire, and are not to be defined. They place us, as does music, in the ambiguous realm of the undetermined.' Odilon Redon

Good luck to Artlink with the Art off the Rock auction and Ritchie Collins, who has the private view today for his solo show 'House of the Moon' in Drymen.

Bun Hanzo and friends

This one isn't Bun herself; she is still under construction but made her first appearance in my sketch book this afternoon. Spent the day painting at the gallery; ladies in kimonos with wayward hair and wings, which somehow managed to end up looking more Braveheart than Zatoichi. This is not a bad thing as I have actually spent many long hours wondering how I can incorporate some Scottishness into paintings for the purely cynical reason that people seem to like reminding where they live when buying pictures. Or less contentiously, they like familiar subject matter. It's something that I struggle with and envy Ritchie's landscapes and buildings of a local nature; however, not going to get in a tizzy about it as I have long discovered that my subject matter is just something that arrives and takes residence in my brain. Hence, Bun Hanzo.
She is the logical progression of leaf headed women, kimono wearing and multiple patterns, and to stay with a theme, she also has wings; kind of a patchwork Charlie and Lola Scottish-Japanese superhero. Tarantino eat yer heart out. The first drawing of her in my sketch book also contains possibly the best pair of shoes ever; big fat flowery platforms which are so far only depicted in biro and white but will I imagine be a cool shade of raspberry ripple or turquoise. Ice cream colours are something of a speciality of mine; if it can have an ice cream name, its good by me. Italy was fantastic for the ice cream colours, as was Spain a few years ago, and, funnily enough, Vietnam. All of them had great ice creameries with the best colours of product; pistachio, nougat, caramelly (salted in Hanoi - the best ever), raspberry and some amazing unknown blues. And yes, I do rather like an ice cream.
Great doing a full day in the gallery today as I didn't feel the need to spend the whole time nose to canvas, which led to some good sketching, browsing art and interiors magazines and thinking of things. Drinking tea and thinking of things, sketchbook in hand; does it get any better? Obviously the view can differ and improve, but basically that is the best time for me. Also found a good phrase I had forgotten which nails Stu's frame effects - shabby chic - beloved of aforementioned interiors magagzines and very descriptive of the 'found in attic, repainted and loved over generations' look that we are going for. He's now mucking about with some samples, a knife and some lino carving tools; who knows where that one is going.
Great full moon over the Shore as I left Leith tonight but I declined to take a picture as my full moon shots always look the same; dull landscape with large white spot, usually blurred. Beautiful image though. Back to the gallery tomorrow so more of 'the ladies'; I am dying to start one on board as well but that will have to wait. I want to 'add more elements' as I wrote in my book today; more patterns, things, composition elements, but with more colour control than I was showing earlier in the year when more elements meant more mishmash and ended up looking like a bad patchwork. Saw a great painting by Morag Muir in an art mag. too; must look her up.

A Shorty

Bit fat busy day in cashdayjobworld today; punctuated by arrival of 'rock god' crazy man wearing pink plastic sunglasses and women's boots, flicking a paltry perm, carrying a silver handbag and muttering evils at me when I served other people ahead of him as he stared glassily at cigarettes murmurming. Takes all kinds, and he was a fun one.

Spending the weekend in gallery mode and looking forward to being paid to paint for the next forty eight hours rather than sell fags and lottery tickets. Great story about submarine grounding off Skye just short of where we were staying a couple of weeks ago - damn, that would have been fun to see.

(No damage to man nor beast, just cutting corners a bit fine. Boy racers.)

Dinner time!

A Still tide

Just a feeling of waiting at the moment; the show at Ritchie's gallery has pulled back to the third week of November and essentially all the framing is now done and dusted. The studio is a little realm of organisation - finished putting the last-but-one picture in its place last night with the last minute frustration of realising that both picture and backboard were minutely too big and bowed in the frame, so sawing and knifing were required for the final fit. One picture left on the easel which has been frustratingly slow due to the lack of time this week. I am working seven days as I have offered to do both weekend days at the gallery and have been roped in for the other five at my cashdayjob; my time in the evenings it the only bit I have, and that is not quite as free as usual with Stu still off on holiday/recuperation. While is is lovely to have his here and actually quite refreshing not to work all evening in the studio it does mean a slowing down of the workrate that has become the norm over the last six months or so. Having said that, I am really at a time when it is probably best to take the rest as a blessing and just go with it.

Thinking a lot about which direction to head once the angel show is 'in the bag'; there are so many ideas rattling around in there and I have no idea which one will take preference when it comes down to it; I want to get on with learning some woodblock techniques, but as I mused last night, it is also enjoyable being something of a novelty using potato print as my premier method and there are still plenty of things to be done with it and explored I am sure.

Had word that the Number Four gallery need my submission by November 6th, so that can be organised and picture finally chosen; this is a bonus show for me as I hadn't expected anything else to pop up so late in the season. Looking forward to that a lot.

For now; just one to finish that is on the easel and then I am on to little box canvases again to use for the angel show; essentially to create something original but lower cost to hopefully fill a gap at that end of the price spectrum. No word from my vanished printer so may have to use another option for cards and prints as it would be good to have some of them on offer also.

Time to stop worrying and let everything take its course I think. Easier said than done when I am involved but also always the best course for me; let the tide run where it will.

Paris Japonica

Re-watching Zatoichi and marvelling all over again at the design brilliance; or more accurately marvelling for the first time as I had time to concentrate on the curtains instead of watching the swords... They have some excellent curtains as well as a great line in textiles in general; early last year I was sketching a houndstooth kimono - thought I was really clever crossing cultures with my textiles. Naturally; watching the film tonight, what panned past the camera but a perfect version of my clunky sketch. Damn that Yamamoto! Seriously clever guy - the patterns and prints he uses are just amazing and the colours all very muted but 'pitch perfect' as it were. Japanese design is so great in its minimalism and functionality; I love the idea of living in the perfect wooden house with polished floors and roll-up beds, eating off perfect little dishes which slot away in a virtually non existant kitchen. Kind of dovetailed with some thinking I was doing today about the bit fat things in life - like the immense wastage we (meaning humans) really are guilty of. I'm not even meaning in an 'oh lordy what a lot of packaging seems to be floating in the Pacific' kind of way, but a fundamental way that touches everything we do. And yes I know that's probably a heavy thing to be thinking but it is in front of my eyes all the time at work; people spending money on things of no importance that they have no need for, in terrifying amounts. I've never been big on Halloween as it is 'celebrated' in the west; it has turned into one of the tackiest of the tacky festivals, all orange plastic pumpkin heads and sparkly black plastic houses. Spend part of the day wondering why it all has to be there and why anyone would wish to part with hard earned money to buy a bag of plastic encased crap chocolate balls wrapped in spiders web print foil. It just really pains me.

If only we could stop and think for that crucial second before purchasing this kind of shit the demand would dry up and people would stop manufacturing it in the first place. Is it too much to ask? I have a horrible feeling that it is.

I also thought about new directions and techniques I can investigate in painting, read an interesting article on chaos theory in relation to evolution, got a couple of smiles out of one of my determinedly non-smiley cutomers and discovered that there is a flower called Paris Japonica, which is a particularly good name for a flower.

A Wobble

Suffering the blog-guilt aftermath of forgetting to post yesterday for the first time; trying not to give myself too much of a hard time as I am already suffering the tail-end of one of my periodical wobbles when I lose all confidence in what I am doing. Probably something to do with the rejection from the RGI show; it happens without fail, prompting the 'why do I do this' question..

I am also feeling severly time-challenged this month; working both weekend days in the gallery and the rest of the week in cashdayjob, leaving brief, tantalising intervals in between to nurture my convalescent beloved and finish paintings, put paintings in frames, post blog, read book etc.

Coincidentally (that old chestnut) found one of Kirsty Gunn's novels in the charity shop; Kirsty was a co-worker in the Vogue archives many moons ago, when she was publishing her first book, 'Rain'. I now realise through later internet research that I was once a colleague of a professor who has written professionally ever since, winning awards and raising children, knocking out novels and having them filmed, teaching creative writing and hanging out at seminars with (hero) Annie Proulx...puts life into harsh perspective, which is the other reason I had an attack of the blues for the last 24 hours. It is overly harsh, however, as comparison to someone else is never a recipe for positivity, especially one as talented as Kirsty who is working in a totally different field. I guess in some secret hidden corner of my psyche I have always fancied myself as a writer too; I'll leave that ambition alone until I am safely in my cottage in the middle of no-where and over eighty. One thing at a time. The other terribly sad news the research uncovered is of Allan Robb, who was married to Kirsty's sister, Merran; he died this summer of Multiple Sclerosis. The last time I saw Merran, an artist and also a Vogue librarian (we were a happy band) she was living in Brixton with Allan, having lived in Edinburgh for a while before I ended up here; Allan was a journalist and broadcaster of some note. They divorced at some point, which was presumably sometime in the intervening years, leaving Merran a widow and mother of a twelve-year-old. It is always odd playing catch-up with other peoples' lives and it always sets me off in self appraisal; also makes me consider the first 'noble truth' of Buddhism - 'Life is Dukkha', usually translated as 'suffering'. I always find it quite comforting, not negative, as it kind of makes you realise that it's not just yourself who goes through negativity and pain; it is inherant in our lives and unavoidable.

Fell flat on my face on the way to work today as well; nothing like that to 'bring you down to earth'...for some obscure reason my sore knees felt better today than they have for ages...

Framing tonight; tired but nearing completion.

OOh Medusa

A productive day at the gallery and at home; former by me and latter by Stu in his kitchen framery. I must remember to make him a little stamp to 'sign' his frames with, it would be a nice touch and credit where credit is due. Having had a real blank last night when I was prepping up canvases to paint today in the gallery I threw in the towel and hoped inspiration would strike this morning. Right on cue, once I had emerged from deep R.E.M. punctuated by the usual over-real, visually complex dreams and under a pile of cats, I chanced upon the idea of following up sketches of the Medusa that I had made weeks ago while working on a similarly snake-haired angel, which ended up called 'Fragrant Storm'. Set up this and another 'Leaf-lady' on two box canvases around breakfast time and then got to be amazed all over again at how fast days go when you are chilling at home doing painting things and not trying to earn a buck doing repetitive and utterly non-creative things. Please note; I try my damndest to incorporate some form of creative thought into my repetitive cashdayjob, but it can be an uphill struggle some days... After last week's impromptu art lesson with some random drop-in children I was quite keen to spend a day in quiet painting without deviation and thankfully no small people arrived demanding art lessons with menaces. An adult did enquire if I taught and expressed a desire to learn from me which was quite bemusing as my confidence still doesn't stretch to instructing others; I did for a while harbour fantasies of teaching in an Italian villa for small holiday groups when someone offered, but, probably fortuitously, it never came to pass.
First picture that grabbed me today was the Medusa and I had a great time doing it; after initial worries that I was recreating Pocohontas from the Disney film it all came together really well I think, with the snakes suggested in zig-zag rather than fully illustrated heads and all. A good array of customers today, some buying, some just looking, but plenty of interest and learning to be had. One excellent stone-carver visited, who coincidentally lives pretty close to my brother on Dartmoor and hand carves amazing abstract and figurative pieces in limestone, marble, alabaster...nothing but admiration for someone with mastery of a craft like that. Rosie Musgrave is her name, and her biographical notes tell me that she started stone work around the age of twenty, and like so many of us, has returned after a gap of some years. Humblingly, she really liked my work too and asked questions about techniques and methods of working that raised interesting ideas in themselves; rock carving and painting are so far apart but so close together - I can see echoes of each in the other. Both have so much to do with 'seeing' and 'drawing' instinctively to create a piece.
Ritchie's paintings are all over the place in preparation for his solo show at the Ealain Gallery in Drymen, over on the West coast; looking good too. I am gallery sitting for an extra day next weekend so he can have a decent time over at the private view; good for me too as that'll be at least two extra little box canvases this coming week. Sold one right at the end of the day to a photography team; a couple who specialise in events and wedding photos, something I have the greatest admiration for after umpteen years being on the catering side.
And so bounced I home to see how Stu had got on with convalescing and finishing frames; very well on both counts and now we are at least three paintings closer to the show I have spent half the year preparing for! All the frames are looking fantastic and it has been such a good learning curve picking colours and techniques to (hopefully) complement the paintings; bought a wee roller set to experiment with putting on layers of paint that way but he forgot to use it so that will have to wait for another day, another frame. I had a hairy experience with my framing 'flexi-point' gun when it jammed and I decided to take it apart to determine the cause - without first reading the instructions... how many times does it take? Maybe the sight of the main spring exiting the machine and 'boinging' across the studio, necessitating a lengthy and stress inducing repair, will finally send the message home. It's the oldest one in the book - when in doubt, read the instructions... funnily enough, when I did so and removed screw E (instead of all screws at once) and cleared the obstuction...ta da!
Started another Medusa tonight; I called the earlier one Medusa I with the prophetic feeling that she may be the first of many, or at least a few. Can't paint angels forever and boats just weren't doing it for me. I need a face to give me a reason to continue painting.

Frames in the kitchen

Okay; this is going to be kind of bad timing; I'm in the living room trying to blog and Stu is in the kitchen painting frames. In between us is the radio playing an interview on Plantet Rock (house soundtrack courtesy of Stu) with Ian Rankin. So... I can't concentrate as I'm listening to Mr Rebus and Stu's commentary on the interview, one in each ear.

Been a good day on the art front; I spent the morning finishing a painting in the studio - after breakfast in bed prepared by the invalid I am meant to be looking after - which is kind of the last of the angel series. There is one small one to do which I started later, but this morning's saw me basically come full circle. When I happened upon the Ritchie Collins gallery back in the spring my first exhibits were for the Leith Festival, so I did a piece called 'The Harbour Arms', which was based on the idea of the guardian angel of the waters holding boats in her arms. The first piece was just that; angel holding boats. What I really envisaged was 'angel as harbour' with her arms forming the walls and big hands joined against the forces of nature without. Quite a few months and many angels later, I now have two versions of the harbour angel, with this latest probably the closest to my mental image. As I write this though I am thinking how cool it would be to do a purely monotone, drawn version; really stony and solid. Maybe I am not as close to completion as I thought... This 'last' one I have called 'Small Blue Haven' and she has the biggest hands - I was going to say 'ever' but then, with the last sentence in mind, who knows. I had already used up the title 'Angel Haven' which is also the title for the forthcoming show, on the previous incarnation, which is a little brighter due to the fact that I had just been reading about the Ballet Russe designs and so had a lot of pattern and turbans (?!) in my head.

Stu has been reworking the ideas we had for the frames as he goes along; different brushes, rollers, grades of sandpaper and wire wool... Briwax... it is all very satisfying and all the more so as I don't have to participate apart from pointing and suggesting. The first two big ones done are lovely and 'battered' but polished to hell and back, so there is a great contrast between the distressed state of the paint and the loving polish applied. Part way through I realised that what they remind me of a lot is the old much-used guitars of Jimi Hendrix and the like, where layers of paint and polish have been gradually demolished by years of play leaving bare wood in places and various graduations of colour elsewhere. Makes sense when Stu is a bit of a guitar geek too.

I am going to sorely miss this little workshop world we have been in for the last few days; I can't wait until this becomes the norm. without any annoying cashdayjobs to get in the way. I'm quite confident that we will work well as a creative duo - nay, magnificently! It's awesome getting to consult on the frames for each painting layer by layer, sand by sand; we hope to offer this kind of service to other artists as well as myself in the long run which is, I think, pretty rare.

Frames in the kitchen, paintings to the left, here I am, stuck in the middle with you.

Oops and Doons

Day two of nursing duties and both patients are responding well to my combination of tea making and morale boosting painting, singing badly and joining in sympathy snoozes. Could get used to this life methinks. Popped down to the gallery to pick up framing tape for Stu's ongoing craftsmanship on my Angels; he resumed his sanding and buffing this afternoon in a great display of courage under adversity. Needed a few of the afore-mentioned naps, but did some great work on the big frames using a bit of a rougher hand and sandpaper than we had first thought would be adequate, with some very pleasing results. I like the fact that we are doing the frames 'made up' rather than paint-effecting the individual pieces prior to assembly. This way he is achieving what I was looking for, which is the effect of something found in a beautiful old house, layers of paint artfully worn away by use and time.

The doon of the day was the letter from the RGI rejecting my paintings and meaning that another hard won tenner has to go on the return trip to Glasgow to pick up my pictures; in another way it is not bad as they are for the Angel show anyway, so I would have been a wee pit annoyed if they hadn't made it there. It is always a slight setback getting the boot, even though I know it is such a lottery and I am not even a member or from Glasgow, which doubtless makes it even less likely to succeed. Actually I have no idea why I subject myself to it and have vowed to leave most of these juried shows alone; cost money and provide only demotivation.

Luckily my gallery trip was as positive as ever and came away full of ideas and renewed confidence. Started the second last angel tonight which I love already despite realising on the way to bed that I have a bit of an eye alteration to attend to in the morning; you can never see these things until you go away for a bit and look at the painting afresh. Never figured out why, it is like literally having a new set of eyes.

Downhill all the way now; sorting and framing and doing little pieces is nearly the end of the story for this year's shows; then hopefully the hard work will prove its worth in the dying months of the year. Cross those fingers.

Corvus morning

Weirdest day today; on nurse duty for a cat with cystitis and a post-op sleeping man. Amazing how long a day can stretch itself to when you have no work to go to, do not want to hoover for fear of waking man or freaking out neurotic cat, and are trying not to go too far away from home for too long for fear of.. well, whatever happens to sick man and cat in worst-case-scenario.

What it actually meant is that I have drunk far too much tea, finished a painting and rationalised all of my current work into lists for the various shows, kicking out a few that I wasn't sure about and swapping others around. I do like a list, me.

The picture I finished finally uses my biro-under-paint thing properly; I put in the string of fish that I have been toying with and intended to use quite a bit of colour on it, but discovered it was working well in monotones, so let it be. This means that it is really just biro under shades of grey and cream with biro back over the top of it again - satisfying way to portray dried fish and definately has potential for a bigger, more complex string of fish picture. The fact is that I am essentially only a couple of small boards off finishing everything I set out to do for the shows that are imminent, so I can take my time with the last ones and then set about some little box canvases and maybe some little framed boards. The aim of the latter is to provide some purchasing potential for visitors to the show who don't want to shell out a few hundred quid, which, lets face it must be quite a few in these treacherous times.

The relaxed schedule today meant an early start to Tesco, the car park of which is the home of a very healthy selection of the family Corvus just now; early doors there are mobs of rooks, crows, jackdaws all 'doing stuff' around the place. I am a big rook fan so I was especially pleased to see their funny little cone noses hopping about (attached to their heads, luckily); they must have had a bumper season this year as it used to be more of the other breeds. I had a phase of painting crows (and rooks particularly) a while ago, and will probably return at some point; 'Crows doing stuff' was one of the first paintings I sold for a few hundred quid and I was sad to see it go as it was a bit of a Nilsson classic. Ended up painting another version a few years later in exchange for the design of my first ever website; as usual it was inferior to the original to some degree, but still a good picture. A rather drunk friend introduced me to everyone as 'the crow lady' at a private view of my work a couple of years ago; luckily I don't think it stuck in anyone's minds, or at least if it did they haven't adopted it as my moniker of choice...

Time to check out the patients again; it has to be said that they are fast becoming self sufficient; I hope this isn't a measure of my nursing skills in that they can't wait to be rid of my attentions....

Lost in Ponder

I had a cuddly panda when I was small; it was very large and I called it Ponder (the Panda...) which was, and still is, one of my favourite words. Today ended up being a ponder day because Stu is in hospital having an operation and the Chilean miners are being popped to the surface in the Phoenix II one by tantalising one. You get so used to reading about disasters and rescues gone wrong that it is truly uplifting to see something work out so right; I have been checking in on the footage all day on the internet just to see the moments of relief and utter joy. And yes, being me, having a wee tear to myself.

Finished a big picture today that was one of those fun ones; just came about from start to finish in a day with very little preparation and thougth. Spontenaity itself. Started life as a very beguiling photo of a friend being very Swedish with a floral headdress; mutated into what I am told looks more like me (although they didn't see the original inspirational photo). Brings back to mind a conversation with another artist who suggested that we all end up using ourselves as a model half the time and just tweaking it so it doesn't totally resemble us; how true. Given how autobiographical art often is, especially in my case, and no wonder I end up a shadowy presence in many of my figurative works.

A bit annoyed with myself today as the pondering is holding up some valuable painting time; I expect my mind is not quite on the game today as it is inevitable that it should spend some time doing the worst case scenario thing with regards to hospitals and general anaesthetic. Not a cheery experience having to be the one at home waiting, but I am quite sure it is less cheery being the one under the knife. Started a picture essentially of Skye; back to boats and conical mountains with some stringed fish (surprise) and one of my lovely kimonoed ladies. No wings this time, as I am slowly shaking off the angels. The flower-headed one, 'Ange Entier' has wings because it kind of suited her and she is so pagan, mythical and in-your-face that wings seemed somehow natural; she can therefore find herself in one of two shows, as she is not part of the angel show as conceived, but could slot in happily dependant on how everything looks. Or she could go to St Abbs, as I do rather like her and think she might look quite strong on her own with less angelic company.

I guess I should get the potato prints out and start putting pattern to picture in the studio; that is bound to prompt the phonecall to collect my boy. Probably when I am at my most messy, paint everywhere and cats prowling around threatening to step on palettes... Answered the door earlier and spend ten minutes chatting to a charity guy, then realised I had left a whole pan of cool chicken stock exposed on the stove - the good wee girls had gone nowhere near it and were lurking about the hall wondering what I was up to. Lucky really or Stu's convalescent soup might have gone awry.

Geisha babe

Watched the awesome film 'Zatoichi' last night; leant to us by Ritchie, who seems to have a good eye for a movie! Loved this so much that I flipped over and bought it on Amazon so I can have it in my top favourites folder. Looking forward to some quality time drawing bits of the background with its amazing collection of wooden houses, strings of fish and stones, patterns and prints etc. Thought the costumes were great too and checked out the guy in charge - Yohji Yamamoto - should have guessed; I have loved his clothes forever. It reminds me how much I love Japanese design and that whole Zen sensibility of function and design knitting together; there is a huge Muji store in Bangkok that I cruised for ages last time we were over but I didn't buy the amazingly cool pair of shoes they had (minimal, cotton, awesome) and I regret it to this day. Looked up the website when we got back to no avail - I missed a legendary shoe purchase.

Besides the kimono patterns giving me a lifetime of inspiration for potatoes, I am also off drawing these great strings of dried fish and strings of stones; they will be appearing in a painting near me shortly both as support and main event!

The other thing that I found myself strangely drawn to do is a geisha self portrait; I have loved Cindy Sherman forever for her brilliant alter ego self portrait photos, from , I guess the eighties (found her when I was at art college which is, like soooo long ago now). I am imagining what she would have done with a sinister geisha 'film still' pic, and thinking of setting it up in my living room tomorrow. New rule of thumb with regards to my art is to just do it as so many ideas end up back-burnered due to lack of time or the right moment. Hence I have a busy few days this week as I am still obsessed with leaf ladies, have conical mountains and viking boats in my mind from Skye and now samurai references and dried fish. hum.

Stu has been polishing up a storm on some more frames for the Angel Haven show; he is really getting pretty nifty at making that lovely aged Shaker/French/Japanese (!) patina by layering and wire woolling a series of colours with far more patience than I posess. They are then waxed to within an inch of their lives with Briwax for a super sheeny finish.

Still over a month to go for the show opening so I am still kicking out angel ideas as well; just in case something appears that might take precedence over the work I have already finished; no resting on laurels here!

Mountain musing

Hurray - sold three of the little box canvases that I have been painting on Sundays; better get going on some more! It is quite a satisfying medium to work with I have to confess after being very sceptical; I have never been 'big' on canvas but at that size they make a really nice tactile 'object' which can be stacked, moved about almost like a sculpture piece. The three are off to Spain which is cool, I like the dissemination of art across the globe; its like how cool it is looking at the traffic on my blog and seeing Russia, America, India; Beverley Hills yesterday. It's like 'Hello Beverley Hills! Great to be with you tonight!!' Of course we then speculated about what majorly famous entertainment business figures could be cruising my stuff and of course from then we went on to cast ourselves in a movie of Bateau-Lavoir days; Stu gets Michael Madsen as long as he's cool with shaving his head and I'd just have to be Renee Zellweger as she's got Sami connections and I love her. Although she might balk at putting weight on again after all the Bridget Jones experience.. she can do the accent though! Twig gets to play herself and thus gain cult following and her own blog spot
Enough already.

Mucking about with ideas from Skye; it was a fabulous time to go; the autumn light and colours are so cool and reminded me of Arran last year when we did our final big walk up Glen Rosa. A truly stunning day and so, so quiet; in the presence of the amazing things that are mountains.

My little mountain haiku from last week:

Rising, majestic -

Sodden, massive, timeless giants

Shrink me to nothing

I love thinking about the forces that created them, the forces that still shape them, and the timelessness of it all. It is truly humbling. I think more than ever this may be something that I think about and use in my painting; the angels inhabit a zone out of time and the mountains and forests are very much their habitat. Spirits, if you like, of the natural world and witnesses to its forces and life. All very pagan and earthy; green men/women and their relationship to their environment...

Small lesson

Painting at Ritchie's today from 12 - 4; thinking about viking boats and conical mountains, so that's what appeared on the little box canvases. Spent a pleasant forty-five minutes giving an impromptu art lesson to two small girls who wandered in and seemed well versed with Ritchie's paintings and the layout of the gallery - hopefully they have art loving parents who will return to snap up a few pictures... Got out the potatoes and managed a fairly presentable picture with them while remembering just how much mess children can make with paint, realising that they were playing with £4.50 a tube Liquitex and thinking about the likelihood of the parents sueing when they received back their permanently stained offspring. Good fun though.

Pondering identity

And... I'm back. Decided not to chase technology around the Isle of Skye and so had a blog holiday since Monday; didn't intend to do that in my year of blogging but realised that I was setting myself up for stress that was utterly unneccessary. Mum wouldn't have understood my need to chase Wi-fi, or even what it was, and I was better off having a total break from the world. Strange and somehow regressive to spend four days with your mother after so long not doing so; it throws up all sorts of questions of identity (for me) and what is the 'real' me. With mum I am undoubtedly myself; I have known her all my life and in this instance we were retracing steps from over twenty years ago, so much of our past lives together was at the fore. Despite this I know that I am 'leaving out' aspects of my normal behaviour and consciously changing the way I spoke and interacted; so the person I should know most of all is with an edited version of me... Do we do that to everyone? It set me pondering. Probably the most 'me' of me is when I am, like today, all alone for twelve hours, painting, pondering, reading, talking to the cats... and when I travelled to Weston-super-Mare last summer on my own. That trip saw me camping and eating pies on the beach; I resorted to the existence of a beach bum essentially, and that has always been the closest to happy for me. Took some time out from painting angels as well and returned with a sketch book full of two-ended wooden boats, mountains shaped like limpets, vikings, rocks, seals, fish on sticks, and still my continuing obsession with leafy women.

Spent the morning reading the book I took with me which is very me; neurotic, tense stories of characters mistranslating each other, failing to connect, lapsing into their own worlds. The prose is very enticing but much of the sentiment quite dark; A. M. Homes 'Things You Should Know'.

Avoided Lillian Beckwith in the end but saw the books in a few places and contemplated the aptness of the titles; The Hills is Lonely and the Sea for Breakfast makes sense too in a place where it is so constantly present. The island didn't fail to disappoint after all these years and made Arran look like a domestic animal; the mountains are so vast, timeless, wild and rugged. Spent quite a while familiarising myself with the geology which is fascinating and unique; brought home my usual selection of rocks in the boot for addition to my garden. I used to sleep with a particularly lovely rock in times of emotional trauma; is that too much information?...

Received a kind word from an admired artist on Facebook which cheered me greatly; that reassurance that people are not muttering about how deluded you are in your quest for artistic discovery and self-sufficiency. Sold a small print as well, and collected all the frames for the Angel Haven show and the pieces for Number Four gallery. Had to shift the date of the private view again as the Edinburgh Art Fair starts the same evening, so sadly I cannot get the company of my oldest chum from Portsmouth as she is running a fund raiser in London that weekend with some famous folk. Still feeling postive about things though and whalloped through a painting tonight when I finally settled back into the studio; found an awesome photo of my little Swedish friend in a floral headdress with an equally blonde and flowered friend, so off I went on my 'green women' again. This one has been in the thinking phase for weeks, obviously waiting for me to happen upon a photo of people decked out in flowers, so it was one of those happy occasions (hopefully, still to see it in daylight!) when I went right through the afternoon and evening without a break, pretty much finishing by ten o'clock.

Now setting out to right the dietary wrongs of four days subsisting on pies, sandwiches and yoghurt by making a nice yummy prawn and sweet potato curry. Good to be home, but good to have been away.

East coast sunny

Pink of face and light of heart. Lovely day along the East coast starting at wildlife artist show at teh Scottish Ornithologists Club at Aberlady (Waterston House). Chris Lodge, Jenny Matthews, Darren Rees, Barry Van Dusen. Walked out over the estuary at Aberlady bay seeing the geese start to fly in for the winter - magical. Lunch in North Berwick and back to Ritchie's gallery in Leith to show mum my work and his. Tonight map reading and planning for Skye tomorrow:)

Everyday is like Sunday

Just wrote the title because it's Sunday and I remember the Smith's song fondly. Apt this week as I am not working in the old cashmoneyjob so indeed, every day could be considered to be like a Sunday, taking Sunday as a day of rest in the old fashioned way and not just an annoying 'leisure' day as it has become. Restaurants are evil and full of children who want to be anywhere else but watching mum sink a glass of Pinot Grigio and nibble olives, the streets are often as full as the rest of the week but with that annoying 'wander' factor where everyone is pretending they are in a movie and having a fab time when actually they have hangovers and are skint like the rest of us. At least I never have the hangover thing no more and I still work my Sundays even if it is in a far more pleasant manner than years gone by.

Spent a brief and relaxing four hours in Ritchie's gallery painting two more box canvases of leafy headed ladies (definately stuck on this theme at the moment, but trees are close to my heart) and having a shifty at Ritchie's work in progress. Lots of it at the moment as he has the superior problem of having too much demand and not enough time to get the work done! Oh for such a dilemma! Always interesting to see how it all goes together though and there is also the added bonus of having a HUGE amount of paint to look at; spend many a happy minute rummaging and squeezing tubes to see what might be useful for me. Some nice Liquitex blues that I don't have and some giant tubes of some of my favourite colours which are just nice to look at. Some people like looking at cars (weirdos), some like to wait for fish to eat worms; I like to ogle paint.

Had a great chat with another painter who dropped in looking for advice on framing; it was great mainly because I was able to help and thus realised how far I have come in my learning on the subject. I remember only too clearly the stage she is at when light slowly dawns that unless you are a user of box canvases, everything submitted to shows, competitions, or just hawked around galleries really needs a frame around it to show it to full effect and meet exhibition criteria. Frames cost money, and suddenly the plans you have end up putting unacceptable strain on your finances. I have probably wasted a small fortune over the past few years on framing things that I later end up stuffing under the spare bed; certainly there is no inkling of profit for a long time, or even covering materials. I have started painting in fairly set sizes, so that frames can be removed and shifted onto a new work once the old one has gone out of favour; doing my own framing is an option for the future too.

So... the knock at the door. Mum up for the next five days so I apologise to the world in general for the break in services; I had thought of blogging on the road from Skye, but a rest should be a rest and I am going to take one. Oops, my picture is sideways. Think I need a break.

Fleeing or frolicking

The title came to me on the way home while driving, inconsiderately, so I could only record it once I was in the garage petrolling up for my *week off*!! I have actually pulled over while driving to write down some niggling thing that is in my head; a line of a haiku or a painting title, and I am always so aware of how stupid and pretentious it must seem. But hey, its my brain and it won't remember if I don't record it, and if I don't record it all of these mystery ramblings will be lost forever. It's like the thing where I always think of great ideas in the shower, which may or may not be related to the wooden angel outside the door; when inspiration strikes, you just have to roll with it. The 'fleeing or frolicking' thing is related to the running women that keep appearing in my pictures; the angels over the roof of the world and numerous other sketches feature figures in ambiguous flight. Hence... or 'cavorting'; love that word. Accidentally painted an excellent background yesterday while I was painting over the picture once called 'Cloudberries'. I loved parts of the original and right up until yesterday I had kept one little face in the middle of a blue board, but if there is one thing I have learned this year it is not to try and salvage paintings that have gone to the pale. Give it up and move on is the wisdom, as I never, ever, end up liking or respecting retreads. So, in covering the old picture I initially used a wash of cheaper acrylic in a great turquoise that can be a bit much on its own, then last night set to covering that in red oxide. Half way along I realised that the rust colour with peeking pieces of turquoise was looking good, so I finished the rest of the board with this in mind and 'voila', a cool and interesting ground to work on. The new picture on here is going to be a continuation of the flowery and patterned face women; the forest angels and the bunny-leaf ladies. She is something I am aiming to work on in sketch form over the next week while I have time to work on things more fully that usual.

From Tuesday to Thursday I'll be on Skye; told a customer this earlier today. She is a fantastic hair-netted 'Miss Jean Brodie' of a Morningside lady, with teeth that whistle (ill fitting dentures?) as she speaks, making the Scots accent even more melodic. Her memory of Skye is of a relative, unspecified, going there on honeymoon and climbing the Cuillin hills with his new wife, only for her to fall to her death. 'Unsuitable shoes, I would imagine', she whistled. Wonder how many times she has repeated the story and whether somewhere above an irate angel in hiking boots is tearing her golden hair and screaming un-Christian sentiments...

Another fine conversation this morning was regarding the open day at the herbarium in the Botanic Gardens; the storyteller had visited and lingered on after the tour was over 'to enjoy the quiet'. She went on to describe her joy and finding 'huge rhubarb-like plants' that you could shelter under the leaves of. (Gunnera, I believe.) 'I felt so much better for seeing them', she sighed wistfully. I love that. I love that seeing a cool plant can make your day better and put a smile on your face; and how true.

Following my debates on the People's Friend magazine, attention has now been drawn, prior to my trip 'out west' to a series of very similar books that did indeed adorn the bookshelves of my house in childhood; Lillian Beckwith's tales of the Scottish Isles spoke of a bygone age and would probably be called 'gentle tales' in the 'Friend'. Looking up the titles is like revisiting my past although I have never read the works, and I have just discovered that the 'loosely fictional' tales were the work of a Londoner on Skye who recorded the island in the 50s and 60s in what was essentially an autobiographical way; the main character an incomer recording her fellow islanders' lives. 'The Hills is Lonely' (why the crazy grammar, will I have to read it to find out?), 'The Sea for Breakfast', 'A Rope - In Case' (sinister...) and lordy-be there it is; the angel reference... 'The Loud Halo'. Think I feel a painting coming on..

I am now wondering whether it would be a meaningful exercise to track down a copy of one of the books and dig into it 'in situ' as I watch the tides wash Broadford bay. Could do worse in the name of research. I have actually done a wee charity shop trawl and found a couple of books to read in the bite sized pieces necessary when on holiday with an ageing mother in need of constant attention (sorry, I know it will come to me too, but it's true); an anthology of poems on the subject of flight from a fairly random slice of literary greats: 'Icarus; an anthology of the poetry of flight' and a volume of short stories by A. M. Holmes - 'Things you should know'. I'm a sucker for a title like that and the cover has an excellently Photoshopped image of a reclining furry dog with a sheep's face.

I am going to record my posts in longhand over the three days away and fill in on my return. I shouldn't flatter myself to think that anyone will notice, but there it is.

Pause for thought

Bit of an inbetweeny day today; many missions accomplished over the week and now waiting for something to happen and finishing off paintings. The studio is a mass of pictures, frames in various states of painting and boards waiting on priming and working; great to have so much industry going on but a little tidying is about to be necessary as I am looking after my mum for a week from Sunday and the studio is also home to the sofabed.. We're off to Skye for three nights which will be an experience; I spent a large chunk of my childhood holidays on the island and have fond memories of barbeques in oil drums on deserted piers, tin-roofed shops and single track roads with grass down the middle. Last time I was there was in 1989, so I imagine much has changed; the bridge for one thing, which will have given accessibility to tourism in a way never possible before. They can't change the hills and the sea however and I imagine there are still a few secret places tucked away that will be as I recall. Hoping to return to Elgol, a stunning beach of boulders and weathered sandstone cliffs overlooking the Black Cullins across choppy seas down a great wee hill. I managed to get on the wrong end of a rock my brother threw in the river there and ended up in hospital being stitched together again; my poor mother probably still has nightmares about that drive...

Doodling away again tonight on the continuing theme of my leafy ladies, who are merging with the forest angels a bit now. I have also been thinking of the Fornasetti china; for some reason the face used reminds me of some of my ladies. A great and iconic range of images too.

Tonight I'm working on a number of things at once to get maximum use out of my potato prints before I shut up shop for a few days; I will have a good break from painting and just use the old sketch books while mum is up I think. It gets messy and complicated working in what is effectively someone's bedroom and moving everything into the living room is just so not worth it.

The rest will do me good; perspective and all that. Consider what I have done so far and what else can realistically be achieved before the shows open at the start of November.

Keeping it brief tonight, so I can get something done in the short evening left to me.