One small stumble

The word that keeps appearing in my mind tonight is 'monumental', which is melodramatic in the extreme but sums up neatly how I feel. Worked my last 'monumental', longest-day-ever shift at the cashdayjob and find myself suddenly self employed at the helm of a new, yet to be trading company. The whole world laid out before me so to speak.

Emmylou Harris' album title 'Stumble into Grace' also popped into my head, as more than anything I feel that I am stumbling into the future, but in a good way. The only way we can move forward is by taking little steps in a direction which can be described as 'unknown', as all the days to come are yet to reveal their little ways and secrets. All the talk of following dreams and making your own future come down to a few decisions and steps; the rest is stumbling on.. blundering ahead regardless of the pitfalls and worries. It is a good and terrifying feeling but I am very glad that I am on the path and moving forward bit by bit.

For now it is writing lists and chipping away at the many things that need to be done without concentrating too much on the big scary picture; I have learnt so far that this is the best way to progress, and before you know it hurdles have been overcome and decisions taken that will shape the rest of the process.

The wee cherry is flowering in the dark and I drove home in the most amazing sunset that burned the whole horizon with such intensity, the rest of the sky a gunmetal grey. Flowers in the dark, fire in the sky, a path yet to be revealed. We shall see what the morning brings.

A day in reverse

One of the strangest shift combinations we have yet achieved, and we saved it for our last week; Stu on a backshift, 4pm - finish and me on an early newspaper shift, 7am - 11am. So that was me up, breakfasted, walk through sleepy Morningside, worked my wee four hour shift and back home to Stu freshly breakfasted and doing the washing. Then we had a bit of a day before he was off for his 'few hours in hell' as so eloquently put. Then I went back to bed.
Woke again early evening with that totally disoriented feeling, guilt playing in the back of my mind which is probably just auto-pilot from when I regularly slept away portions of the day because I was in a bad place. One of the great things about that happening is the slow dawning that this is a weird time to be waking, but no sinister overtones are at play and no-one else is any the wiser anyway; still plenty of time to sort out paperwork and do some painting before our regulation midnight feast. I am sure it should be bad for me to eat in the early hours of the morning; certainly pretty much every celeb. diet tells me so, but it never seems to do me any harm. Maybe my metabolism will be confused when I switch to 'normal' eating patterns?

Finished my 'playlist' for the gallery/cafe; using 72 of our finest albums suited to the purpose of creating ambiance with some interest. Now I shall listen to it on random for the next few days to iron out any glaring mistakes; there are bound to be at least a couple of tracks that just don't go or contain a random audible swear word or two; I used to find it funny when it was someone else's restaurant but in truly hypocritical fashion I feel I should be careful with my own. Managed a blinder the other week while in the gallery talking to a customer, ipod playing happily to itself, when a sneaky 'fucking' popped out twice in a track which I was sure was perfectly innocent. OOps. Now to sort my head out again, figure out what time of day it is and get on with the appropriate behaviour...
The pic is one of my mum's sketches; she does some lovely wee drawings.

Places in mind and space

Feels kind of weird at cashdayjob this final week; like I am in limbo marking time until I can get on with the great big new project... time passes fast though and I will surely miss some aspects of the experience, some people etc.

Thinking about going to Amsterdam next week and all the memories that come back when I start dwelling on travel. One of my favourite things in the world is to find myself on the first day in a new city somewhere in the world, map in hand and camera at the ready, just waiting to see what is out there. We have walked for miles and miles in cities we have visited, stubbornly shunning the local transport to foot the streets in search of new experiences. It would be extremely hard to put my finger on the favourites from over the years but a place I always think back on as pure magic is the walled city of Dubrovik. We were lucky enough to stay within the walls for two weeks; our tiny apartment like a lighthouse built up one room above the other, the house opposite so close you could nearly touch fingers. The sun shone every day and every morning we rose up the stairs to the terrace where the whole amazing terracotta roof city spread out below us. Seagulls flying over had terracotta tummies from the reflected light; huge gangs of swifts hurtled by screaming and twisting in the air; the light burned the stone surfaces and toasted bare feet in seconds. Every stone and tiny alley of the place spoke silently of history; some heroic, some tragic, always monumental and proud; certainly for me the most amazing mass of buildings I have ever had the thrill of seeing. Reminds me of the line in 'Gladiator'; 'I didn't know man could build such things.'

My Amsterdam will be different and unique, which is why I love trips like this; it can join Paris, Milan, Bangkok and New York; Florence and Saigon, St Petersburg and Hong Kong. Dreaming cities of history and discovery full of lives and stories; often full of paintings and angels.

I am truly glad to have the privilege to travel to places and fill my head with the amazing images and narratives that come from them.

A day in the life of...

Had the weirdest, most surreal day today which should have been intensely enjoyable but was just kind of... strange. I imagine this is how someone with an independant income, rich or famous person or similar, may pass their time; although I'm pretty sure they would skip the £3 day bus ticket and spend far less time agonising about everything.

First up, went to the hairdresser after a four month gap and literally days of agonising over the unneccessary spendage involved when I could really just leave it alone and not care. Problem is, I do care and attach importance to looking presentable and not mad as much as humanly possible; my nature often calls me to the dark side and I feel resistance should be attempted until I am at least sixty. The hair tidying process took over two hours, horifically, in which time I managed two magazines, two cups of tea and much pain over the eventual cost. At the end of the day it was worth it however; I feel positively spring-stepped for the lost weight of untended hair and am positive I look years younger thanks to the lightening process. Result..

Then to the shopping bit, in which I had to throw away all of my learnt inhibitions and actually splash out on a few items of necessity (Body Shop things as I had a voucher to use up that gave me discount so it had to be worth it...) some things of non-necessity (shoes and make-up) and some business things (upholstery fabrics). Also stopped by the Bureau de Change to obtain some Euros for Amsterdam next week; still haven't even vaguely got my head around the idea that we are about to go on holiday, give up work and start a business, but I'm sure I will soon...

Now comes the creative accounting. I was going to get £250 in Euros, but I had spent £30 on shoes (bargain!!) so decided to limit myself to £200, thus making an actual saving of £20. Beat that; holiday money and shoes with a saving to boot. Not sure how Stu will view these figures however, I will just have to blind him with sums and new goods until he forgets the bit about shoes.

All of this primping, travelling and shopping took up most of the day - and I did't even stop for a coffee, or lunch, or even a sandwich. In fact I was so hungry from surviving on tea and adrenalin when I got home that I had to raid the Digestive biscuits that had been sustaining me in my gallery sitting all week. Healthy stuff this celebrity lifestyle, no wonder they all go off the rails.

The painting at the top is the one I finished yesterday after a full on painting marathon at the gallery over the weekend; this has so many ideas all jostling in it, some of which I hope to move onto paintings of their own. The events in Japan were merging in my mind with a general feeling of sadness at the ease with which 'things' are swept away in both directions; man's disregard of nature and ease with its destruction and nature's awesome might sweeping aside humanity with a shrug. Retaliation? A restless earth? 'The Planters' are involved in the creation of the 'Joy Garden'; my eutopian fantasy Eden creation where all the hippy happy ideals of lions and lambs lying together are realised. In planting, however, they are aware of the futility of their task and the likelihood of their creation being destroyed either by the power of nature itself or by the hands of man. It has something to do with the Canute-ism of my cherry tree roof and something to do with the frailty of life...

The garden roof

One of those days where I had the liberty to be on my own painting for quite a few hours and made many discoveries, had many thoughts and generally allowed my mind to wander as it will. Can I remember anything? Not a chance... maybe I relaxed a little more than I realised. Finally shaken the cold I have been nursing all week and grateful to be liberated from the tissue box and the painkillers; you begin to forget what normality feels like, making it all the sweeter on its return. As I have also quit my month-long smoking habit, the recovery from clogged-lung hell is particularly welcome; hoping my resolve sticks and we don't get any more setbacks to send my relapsing. I find it way too easy to slip into things and know only too well how hard it can be to climb back out again.. not something I wish to repeat on a regular basis.

Working on a big canvas these last three days and to be honest, quite amazed at how long painting takes when I am doing nothing else; I am used to squeezing in a few hours here and there and so usually have no idea how long the process takes. Quite interesting seeing the whole thing in sequence and I think it is speeding the process and smoothing out the edges a little. I often take a wee while to ease my way back into a painting and find my way back to the thought processes and decision-making that are left behind at the close of each session; this way it is far easier to see a 'path' and follow it. Makes no difference to my habit of starting with one thing in mind and ending up with another, but the coherance of the idea seems to have translated better. I am still correcting the mouth of the first figure; had a major, major drawing crisis yesterday and couldn't get the line right for love nor money. This morning it went quite easily but looking tonight I am still not one hundred percent sure about it; one more tweak tomorrow and I will (hopefully) be at peace with it. Happy happy with the colours I have been using and convinced that this is a result of the process being more 'flowing' and continuous; it just seems easier to keep in mind the ideas I have as I go along without having a week's break in between two areas of paint. As I start my final stretch in the cashdayjob on Tuesday with a cheeky wee four day week I am hopeful that painting in this way may soon be something I get to do on a regular basis. I am absolutely determined to keep the work/life balance, or work/paint balance on an acceptable keel; I have had far too long putting everything else before it and now it is going to be a priority, not an afterthought once everything else is completed.

Final day of my wee week at Ritchie's tomorrow and hope to blast through the end of this painting; saved the second figure till last as I am looking forward to it.

Points of Perception

Slightly frustrating day in painting world; at least the cold has started to loosen its grip on my sinuses, but spent large portions of the day in repainting mode - it goes something like this... Start new painting with great exuberance and enthusiasm; try out a few new techniques, splash out on some big brush strokes and gain confidence in what will surely be the big masterpiece. Notice that the face that you have lovingly and exuberantly painted over the last two hours is a little wonky. Not very wonky, but enough to need attention; never fear, the work of a moment...

Two hours later, still tweaking.. lost all ability to see or draw straight (or indeed curved). Face now looks wrong whatever I do and now the rest of the picture is losing its rose-tinted hue and coming back down to earth. Start of dark mood as realise that this is not a miraculous masterpiece and will be as hard won as the rest of them; vow to leave face alone before paint is an inch thick.

Three hours in and still tweaking.. checking face in mirror produces evidence of more anomalies and skewed drawing. Worse, idly checking other completed paintings in mirror reveals similar evidence of wonky faces and bad drawing; consider throwing in the towel. Have cup of tea. Face starting to look slightly more acceptable and mood lifting as new wave of euphoria creeps in - new painting is the miraculous masterpiece after all! Gaze fondly as tea is consumed.

Final step tomorrow - return to discover which, if any opinion is the correct one and how the face looks after a nights reflection. My guess is somewhere in between 'perfect' and 'hopeless'.

This, I hasten to add, is pretty much the creation process for all paintings apart from smaller ones that are finished while still in the delusional 'masterpiece' stage. These are even more annoying as the illusion is shattered wholesale the next day when the cold light of hindsight reveals all the flaws in their glory 'in a oner'.

Let us see how the daylight reveals my new work of genius tomorrow...

Not counting chickens

Struggling with the first really nasty cold of the season and contemplating how I deserved it. Slipped all to easily into smoking sly fags in the garden over these stressful weeks and quickly graduated to not-so-sly ones at all times of the day or night, justified to myself and anyone else who cared to listen by the excuse as above. Once this cold started to kick in and my lungs tried to eject my body it was time at last to see reason and resort to the cup of tea solution that has never let me down. Annoyed with myself all week as the germs took hold in my weakened chest and mildly fascinated at how quick the process was; no colds all winter until this and now I am struggling with sleep, headachy and lousy generally. That coupled with the ever more horrific stories and pictures coming from Japan have curbed my enthusiasm for anything this week.

Stu apologised for being less than upbeat about the premises we are still going for and I laughed; after our first experience of losing out to another interest at a time when we were thought we were confidently romping up to the finish line I am not about to start counting chickens.

While all appears to be progressing as it should I will not be letting up my worrying until we are sitting on the shop floor with a key in our hands making lists. Until then it is time to work on some painting, try to breathe and try not to dwell too long on the horrible things happening half way around the world tonight.

Completed my optimistic piece - 'The Birds of Fortuity' at a time when they seem to have deserted the earth; I guess there is always space for optimism, however feeble.

Building a small fortress

I start with an apology to all of you out there with little patience for the felines in our lives; bear with me though, this one's for you too..

Twig the kit has reached the charming age of two, or in cat years, her teens. Never have I so realised the wisdom of the x7 calculation of cat years until this crucial milestone. Twig thinks that however long we sleep is far...too...long. Wake up calls arrive at anywhere between four and six a.m. and take the form of pulling cables on the electric and telecommunications equipment next to my bed; modems are unplugged, phone scooted across the floor and electrical knobs and arials chewed and (for want of a better word) 'boinged' with little claws. After this morning's particularly psychotic awakening at 4am, I set out to Twig-proof the telecommunications corner in whatever way I could.

Enter IKEA. Lets face it, with my name it would be rude not to shop there, and I entered with high hopes and optimism that a solution lay within. Eureka - purchased a small but sturdy two-drawer unit with the potential for further customisation to accommodate wires through the back and set about the task of assembly and installation. This is a hazard in itself of course; all tools are to be kept under my legs as I kneel, all small items in their plastic bag shoved in the waistband of my jeans to avoid ingestion by cat. Luckily the furniture comes with free cat toy in the shape of packaging, so while the two furries busied themselves 'sledging' around the living room in the box and leaping on each other, I hammered, sawed and wood glued (minor sawing error) my way to a good nights sleep. Installed in the bedroom we now have a modem and phone drawer containing wires, cables and equipment, with the added bonus of book and glasses drawer to prevent the use of these as wake up noise-makers too.

I hasten to add that I am a realist and will no doubt wake to a new and wonderous percussion from whatever else she has discovered will make a noise - or failing that her voice - but at least the constant threat of missed calls and disconnected modems is past. Cat Lovers, I hope you are impressed with my inventive solution to common feline problems; Cat Intolerants can shake their heads in disbelief and further fortify their list of reasons why not to live with one.

This aside, I managed to rescue a painting I have been staring at for days knowing that the only way out was a radical reworking, received an invite to show pics at a charity event and met up with a friend I lost touch with about seven years ago. Turns out she lives four doors away from the gallery where I paint on Sundays.

The painting is called 'The birds of fortuity' after a Kundera quote likening the arrival of chance fortune and good luck - 'blessings' if you will - to birds settling on the shoulders of St Francis of Assisi. I have had plenty downs as well as ups this last year, but I couldn't help but reflect on the quote at the moment when so many chance happenings and meetings have come to pass.

Or maybe we just notice them more when they appear in flocks?

Building a small roof

Without doubt one of the most positive discoveries of the year to date has been that there are an awful lot of people out there who wish you well despite not really knowing you, that will try to help although it will have no direct benefit to them and put in a kind word or action out of the blue.We are still riding the big dipper of emotions on a daily basis and trying hard not to project to a rosy future where all is easy and secure, as this leaves us vulnerable to the sudden disappointments that still keep cropping up. There have been some wonderful lucky breaks and serendipity and one cannot help but think along the lines of fate; how a loss has lead to a gain in another area and an unpromising path has ended not at a precipice but in a green wooded copse.

The learning curve has also been steep and my 'reading ahead' of the process has lead me to discover all kinds of information irrelevant in the present that may well be my saviour in future unexpected moments of need.

This morning the snow has come back in timely fashion; just when I was going to head out on a list of unwelcome chores, I am thinking that a quiet day painting and playing with my new software will be a far more soul-boosting and productive exercise in the long run. Sitting in the garden at 7am pondering the above and making a small roof for my baby cherry tree out of sticks and a jiffy bag I am feeling strangely calm and optimistic once more.

A roof for a cherry tree; a foolhardy creation on the lines of Canute trying to hold back the sea, but born of compassion and a hope for the preservation of beauty against the forces that may destroy it. A couple of years ago the council chopped down two wonderful mature cherries on the burnside out the back of my house to make way for... nothing, it transpired. They were in the way of the machines that were sent to concrete over portions of the stream banks in the name of flood control; another 'Canute-ism' if ever there was one. Ever since, the cherry has been a bit of a totem to me; a symbol for the things of beauty that are so casually erased on a daily basis in the name of advancement or self interest. We miss the clouds of petals in April and feel for the birds who now roost in spindly, unsuitable ash saplings or on lamp posts.

Displaced pigeons mourn

Loss of blossom on spring breeze:

No fruit will follow.

Squalls and Ambitions realised

Spent a very squally Edinburgh day in pleasant, if cold and wet style, visiting galleries and continuing the vast task of learning how to set up and run a business. I remember my mother, a teacher, telling me how it was often a case of reading one step ahead of the kids, and that is very much my experience with the company formation. It is hard not to see the whole great picture, get scared and hide under a rock; better to focus on each detail at a time and try to 'read ahead' of the tasks required.

Speaking of pictures, had a positive experience amid the hailstorms on Dundas Street, visiting the Braewell Gallery to view the Peter Howson and Joe O'Brien show, alongside two Ingrid Nilssons hanging in the back room. Strange when ambition becomes reality; I had always nurtured the ambition of having my paintings hang in a gallery on Dundas Street, which I used to mispronounce when I first arrived in the city and which seemed to be the centre of the art hanging universe. It still is, essentially, so to have two of my pictures up there is pretty meaningful for me; the fact is however, that the reality is less of a pinnacle and more of a prod on to potentially greater things and achievements. Never do to rest on one's laurels, no matter how comfy they may be. Please note the Howson in the background of the picture; to share wallspace with someone of his calibre is a true honour. Also a couple of great pieces by Vicky Mount, who I have discovered in the last year and respect a great deal.

We also took in a couple of shows at the Scottish Gallery: Geoff Uglow's moody and moveable semi-abstract portaits of Barra and the very different but awesome Steven Appleby's 'Islands'. Great contrast of shows; upstairs the vast acreage of fluid colours (eye-pop yellow, washed out ochres and greys, biting cobalt turquoise) and down below the chuckeworthy and beautifully penned works of someone who I have always admired for his singular vision of the world and its domestic details.

As darkness descends it is wonderful to have some company for a change; it has been a lonely few weeks and I have often felt the weight of too many decisions and little shared support. No-one's fault, but it reminds me that we will soon be in the stronger position of acting as a team again. Stu is reading a book on Amsterdam, which we visit in a couple of weeks for a very, very well earned rest. Roll on Rijksmuseum!

Chasing angels

Feeling the cautious stirrings of optimism and thinking about luck quite a lot. Its a cliche I'm sure, but it is certainly true to a degree that you make your own. I mean, not like bumping into an old friend unexpectedly in Moscow or winning the school raffle, but what is often mistakenly referred to as luck. Luck in achieving things, creating opportunities and making contacts. Trying to remember bits from a cheesy self-help book called 'The Luck Factor' that I read years ago; in fact to call it cheesy is a dis-service as it talks much sense and spurred me on at the time to go out and 'make' luck. I especially remember its insistence on going out and contacting, mingling, meeting; maximising the chance of luck 'finding you'.

It is easy to sit back and wonder why things pass you by; the answer is often that you have to go and find them. Birdwatchers would do badly if they sat in the living room all day, and mountaineers would never have the 'lucky' glorious days of climbing if they never got to base camp. In painting, I know that my best work and best ideas come not from staring at the ceiling but gettting out and seeing things, looking, learning, being receptive to the details and colours that live not in my house, but in the big wide world out there.

Feeling pleased at feeling tired; proud to have pushed the pockets of time I have had to find things out, write things down; contact, explore, delve, rummage. Now I need a sleep.

Plans and dreams

Another day, another change of mood; wild swings have become the norm. Having reached a real low yesterday, I was cheered to find that our solicitor is equally unimpressed by the human nature displayed by the landlord of the last property. Putting this down to experience seemed suitable, so we renewed our efforts and went to see another property this morning, which once again managed to get me excited in our prospects. Very keen again and hoping that we will not be so unlucky twice. Once again frustrated by the weekday schedule of all the people I need to deal with though; after this many years in catering I just cannot see the weekend as a 'no work' area. Spending the evening, and no doubt much of the weekend researching what I can on planning permission, change of use, anything that might help me when it comes to negociations.

Knowledge is power. Still pinching myself about the new gallery taking my work as well, which is another reason for boundless optimism tonight; the paintings were posted by the gallery on FB to a round of positive comments from friends and strangers alike. Music to an artist's ears.

Into the trough

A dark day, although not without comedy. Business plan a) has stalled as the property we have been basing our plans on has been somewhat cruelly given to the newcomers, who had initially retracted their interest. I have been worried all along that things were just too easy so far, so here it is; the first lesson of business. What the lesson is, I am not entirely sure, except speed is of the essence and no trust can be made in human nature to do the 'right' thing.

Dealing with lawyers, we have no idea who the landlord is and why he made the decision he did, so speculation is pointless and destructive, as are the initial feelings of ill towards him/her that I had to sit with for a few long hours this evening.

Being a practical creature, I was out in the car trawling the streets to refresh my memory of all the other potential properties we had seen; taking numbers, looking up on the internet and poring over spreadsheets to compare the money side of things. It is easy to rattle off the platitudes and talk of fate; I am sad that the mental images I had been spinning and the sketch plans we have been scribbling are now the stuff of history. Now to spin some new pictures and start to imagine an amended future vision; time is still on our side and nothing else has changed in a negative way. Same plan, different location. Hindsight may let us know one day that the right decision was made for us, or we may never know.

I dislike the analogy of life as a roller coaster, but it does seem rather apt just now.

Yellow the colour

Found myself standing in a gallery today with two of my paintings resting up on the wall under some amazing Peter Howson's. Reminded me of one of my favourite anecdotes about Picasso (how true, who knows) in which he sneaked a couple of pictures into a gallery ahead of an invite to exhibit there to see if they 'stood up' to the other works. I suppose I love the idea of him having the same frailties as the rest of us and doubting the genius that everyone else spoke of. Pretty sure he was pleased with what he saw.

What was amazing today was that, notwithstanding the fact that mine were two of my favourite pieces to date, I did not have the feeling of inadequacy that I would have expected. Indeed, I felt pretty confident that what was leaning on the wall was actually a couple of pieces of work that I was proud to have created; I felt they would fit in. Luckily so did the gallery owner and so another little milestone passed before my eyes; alas I couldn't share it with anyone else and the impact it had on me will not translate to many.

Talked about colour and threw about the usual comparisons with other artists work, all of which it has to be said was extremely flattering and gave me a renewed eagerness to carry on the path I am walking. Straight to Greyfriars art shop and away humming in the spring sun on Cumberland street with a wad of canvas rolled under my arm. It is interesting looking back on the work of the past year to note other little milestones in my work, one of which takes place only a couple of months ago when I finally threw away one of my own misjudged constraints and started working on canvas instead of board; it seems to have liberated something in my work that has given it a new depth of colour, tone, vigour. Suggests to me very clearly that I must continue to experiment more with my media as it is so easy to become stuck in a groove and miss out on new ways of working and expressing.

Colour is back to the forefront of my mind yet again; I think there is still so much more I could do with it, and want to push into uncharted territory and get into some serious yellow. I keep wanting to use it and pulling back from it or overpainting what I do use, but now the spring is here I seem to see it everywhere, and in my minds eye. Mustard, Turners, Naples, Cadmium, Lemon... I shall see how many I can squeeze on this new canvas.

Sun and butter; the

Colour of optimism

Just must be yellow