Bateau-Lavoir Days

Deep thought, deep breath

2011-07-16T00:03:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I love meditation is that it feels like the equivalent of a long, cold glass of water on a parched throat. Sadly, the rigours of business-starting and the daily round of feeding, cleaning, moving and collapsing have left me lacking the crucial time and peace to just sit. Small cats and their wicked ways are not helpful either; I am yet to find a satisfactory time of day and place to access the peace I am craving.

Good to be craving peace I suppose; I have once more given up smoking, having started again in a cliched fashion while getting the business going. My life can now be conveniently portioned by periods of smoking, non smoking; drinking, non drinking... oh yes, there is a pattern emerging!

To that I should also add - meditating, not meditating; scone-eating, not scone-eating....

Hand in hand with my need to find space is my desire to wallow in nature. Sometimes I think on whether my urge to curl up in hedges and lie in fields is evidence of a past life as... something in a time when we were closer to the actual world, less cosseted and removed.

Actually I think this is a desire we all share to a greater or lesser degree; the draw to escape from the constructed and confining into a more simple and accessible form of life. I would spend many more days outside in a tent if the conditions prevailed (living in a wilder place with some land... tent on slabs in suburbia just not the same); waking to the birdsong and damp of the grass in the doorway. I am still thinking about the lovely couple of days I had two years ago in Somerset when I went to hang a show down there; two days alone in a tent (beautiful weather, mackerel skies and long-tailed tits) eating dinner on a log on the beach. Bliss.

Muddy hands, sandy feet, rain falling gently in a forest, lying on a cushion of leaves and needles, listening to nothing but my own breath and the muffled rustling sounds of the little lives around me.

2011-05-20T23:03:00.000-07:00

Reading the last post before my long pause where I mentioned the album title 'Stumble into Grace'. I am one of those people who constantly write and revise a soundtrack to my humble existence, editing in my head and occasionally creating a disc of the songs that move and inspire me at any given time. Going back to them is a little like reliving the times on a wee home movie in my head.

Song of this week, one in which I have had more than my fair share of 'have I done the right thing?' moments (whilst accepting that it is impossible to ever know..) is by the very lovely Tift Merritt, who I have seen perform live twice in Edinburgh's Queens Hall. The fact that I blubbed at both gigs tells you that her songs are some of those that seem to speak directly to me in a way that songs do. One of the reasons I love music so much is that elusive but awesome moment when exactly the right track appears just when you need it - for inspiration, reassurance or to match the exuberance that is bubbling up inside. 'Engine to turn', my current soundtrack fave, is echoing in my ears...

'Sometimes there's a choir in my head

Singing at the top of their voice -

They're singing

"Don't - look - back

Don't - be - scared!"

Ahhh, see now you understand.... Also still listening to John Grant's 'Queen of Denmark', one of those albums that seems to attach itself to me like a clingy child and demand playing constantly; maybe not everyone will be moved by it as I am, but I can listen again and again....

Always being one to look for portents and signs, I am pleased to report the first flowering of my Wysteria; one of the plants I have always coveted in the gardens of people who have beautiful gardens. Mine is a white version, rather than the more usual purpley violet, and it nearly died the year we abandoned it and ran off to Arran to sell fish for a summer season. Rewarded this spring for my nurturing over the last two winters with the most optimistic and romantic of flowers; hoping to see a full cascade over time.

Thinking of Montmartre again in terms of a new painting; thinking elephants too, so we will see where this one leads. I am taking on too much as usual; still got miles to go on the 'big wall' at Bon Papillon, which I am muralling in a (hopefully) fairly quiet, neutrally shaded Parisian cafe scene. Still, I wouldn't be me if I wasn't already letting my mind wander into fresh avenues.... must mean I am starting to relax again at last.

Long pause, new beginnings

2011-05-16T00:26:00.001-07:00

We have taken the plunge and opened our business, hence the long pause in postings on Bateau-Lavoir days...

hate to mention the words 'dream' and 'rollercoaster' but both apply in their somewhat over-used way. Some days I am in a 'pinch myself or I won't believe it' mode, others I am still wallowing in self doubt and wondering if I have made the first step on a road to disaster. Luckily I am usually in the former frame of mind. After a year of writing something that was swerving dangerously close to a kind of confessional/therapy I am still stunned that we managed to achieve all that we have so far. I am genuinely amazed at how the premises shaped up in just over a month from an empty shell with a whole range of attached problems and hurdles to a fully functioning gallery and cafe that is a joy to work in.

Now I have taken the plunge and re-visited this blog I will continue to update both here and on our new blog/website at www.bonpapillon.com

It is the last day of our first week of trading and I am utterly exhausted, looking forward to a long sleep and a bit of taking stock of all that has happened so quickly. Then onwards and upwards; it's the only path available as far as I can see... no room for doubt and no time to fit it in anyway!

One small stumble

2011-03-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-23T11:20:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

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...

2011-03-21T13:58:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-19T12:59:00.000-07:00

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

2011-03-18T16:52:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-17T16:49:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-13T13:51:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-11T23:28:00.000-08:00

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

2011-03-10T10:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-03-08T10:21:00.001-08:00

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

2011-03-04T14:54:00.000-08:00

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

2011-03-03T13:37:00.000-08:00

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

2011-03-02T14:27:00.000-08:00

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

Lost in lists

2011-02-28T11:23:00.001-08:00

The small and insignificant story of my life to date could probably be an interesting read if compiled in the lists I write in an attempt to bring structure to it. If for some anal reason I had filed them all and not lost them or tossed them once they had passed their useful point it would be a unique historical record of a neurotic list-monger. The one I just sent to the bucket consisted of a few tasks carried out satisfactorily, a few 'notes to self' that probably prompted some action and a number of mystery items that I meant heartily at the time of writing, but whose significance or importance faded with the passage of time.

The list for the week coming includes useful occupations for passing time and ticking off tasks of moderate use for the future months, while keeping my mind focused away from the growing pile of concerns in the recesses of my mind... Compiling a new playlist for the gallery on my ipod with the vastly expanded music collection from the last time I had to perform the same task for a restaurant a few years ago; a programme mum recommended on Australian art recorded on iplayer, paintings to use in signage for the gallery (detail-monger), visits to galleries and contacts lists to assemble. Worries slightly magnified today by the knowledge that the property now has two interested parties and a larger raft of outcomes than a week ago, not all positive. Also my business bank manager has read my business plan (flattering comments: good) and made a proposal of it to send to the 'money men' in Leeds. Oh goody, another cliff-hanger to wait on.

Should be taking it on the chin by now, but I am not the best at suspense and will have to use my lists to their full advantage to occupy myself gainfully while the wheels of fate grind on.

Of course the best line of defence is... attack. Time to send those emails out to galleries, push my own profile art-wise and reach out to those who may help me. And keep an eye to my karma.

Long painty Sunday

2011-02-27T13:30:00.000-08:00

What should have been a pleasant days painting on another glorious day was marred ever so slightly by the continued worries on loop in my head.. Not knowing if we will have to start all over again looking for a property when we have already written a business plan around this one, which is as I speak sitting on the desk (or computer) of my business bank manager. When we have handed in notice from our jobs and booked a weekend break, organised a man to sand the floor... Repeating one of my favourite and overused mantras helps but slightly - 'this too shall pass.'

Aside from this, and the fact that I am feeling queasy from smoking three cigarettes today after a ten year period of blissful abstinance, a very productive day. Used to having fans of Ritchie's work visiting the gallery (well it is his gallery) it is pleasant to find that people are returning to view mine. A couple who visited yesterday came again today with friends with the sole reason of showing them my paintings and were very pleased to meet me and find me painting away in the back shop. Strange feeling, but appreciated. The painting took off on its own today after a bit of a false start when a pal of Ritchie's appeared and chatted about painting for ages; interesting but a bit rambling and it stopped me hitting my stride until an hour had passed. Can't complain as I made up for it, and the image above is now out of date by a few hours as I continued back home.

Even managed to handle the visit of some local kids out to provoke me better than normal, by the simple use of silence and one of my mother's 'old fashioned' looks. Works best when peering over glasses; never guess she was a teacher... plenty tricks up those sleeves.

Having consciously gone through a phase of limited colour I have found myself letting go with all the tubes in the box in the last two pieces I have done - imminent spring feeling perhaps? I think the limitation did some good though as I am a little more thoughtful about where and why I am putting colours, and much more aware of tones. This has always tripped me up a little and I often find I have completed an entire painting in a myriad of colour, but only one tone.

These new ones are destined for the new venture, which I dare not think about tonight as it will set me off on crazy doom scenarios again. Monday dawns none too quickly.

I must go down to the sea again..

2011-02-26T12:47:00.000-08:00

Unpromising weekend comes good. Yesterday I was mired in stress again with worries piling up relating to the business and procurement of premises in which to operate. Woke determined not to waste a whole three days free with useless 'what ifs' and so, in truly mature fashion, went out into the early morning sun and smoked a cigarette. I gave up eleven years ago... Weird thing is, it set me off on a good foot and the sun followed my mood shortly after. Nothing, repeat nothing, lifts the soul on a gloomy, pessimistic day as well as walking by the sea; I turned my car north eastwards and headed for North Berwick by way of Aberlady.

It helped that the weather was laughably kind to me; the sea was so flat calm that when a wavelet did break I turned around to see what the noise was; everyone was smiling, children were frolicking in rock pools and dogs running, running gleefully. Sat gazing into the water and quite forgot my previous torturous dilemmas regarding property; somehow it just melts away.

Found some more excellent craft makers in the Green and Blues gallery who I hope to secure for exhibtion in our new place; a great glass artist from Skye and a ceramic modeller originally from Finland - ah.. the Scandinavians, I do love them.

Wandered back via a small but very interesting show at the Birdwatching centre in Aberlady; Keith Brockie, Darren Woodhead, John Threlfal and John Busby, who are all outstanding wildlife artists. The show was from a joint trip to India and had some amazing sketches in rough thick pencil and pastel of rollers, bee-eaters and monkeys. Great to see such chunky media used in wildlife work, when the tendency is often to picky detail; these guys can really draw though and it is always a pleasure to admire the quickly and perfectly captured line.

Started a bit of a pet project tonight; 'The birds of fortuity', named after a favourite quote and character in Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being, which is a bit of a favourite read.. We are in the realm of autobiography once more, as the quote revolves around the birds (0f fortuity) fluttering down onto the shoulders of the character; a reference I have always related to when things seem to go uncannily well for no reason. It's also referring to (a) love, so my sentimental little side warms to the idea too. Continue tomorrow at Ritchie's gallery, where I should have been today if he hadn't cancelled me. Have to say that I am extremely glad things turned out the way they did or I would have missed the opportunity to bask in the best day of the year so far.

Learning to speak again

2011-02-25T11:18:00.000-08:00

Lawyer-speak, that is. I was aware of the strange and wonderous ways of lawyers from our first and second brush with them, which involved a divorce and buying a house. Both experiences should have laid the foundations for a deep mistrust and a wish to 'stick a rocket up their ass' to paraphrase my grandmother. ( I hasten to add that my grandmother would never have sanctioned such teminology, but I'm pretty sure it was what she was thinking.)

So much pondering, so much writing of things and enclosing them in plastic folders and sending them back and forward to each other and other 'parties'. So little plain facts and plain talking.

I am deeply glad that the need for lawyers rises, is tolerated, and then fades away. If I had to deal with these people on a regular basis, I would be a wreck of a woman.

Tonight I read considered report on the property we hope to rent including such pitfalls as 'incomplete linoleum' - like, do they think we might not notice this and have plans to replace said flooring? Cracked window pane. Good lord these people are uncannily blessed with insight and vision beyond our comprehension; before them we are worms. Do they expect us to move into the property as we view it and just start trading? 'Come on folks, just take a seat anywhere - watch out for the missing linoleum and the half-hanging suspended ceiling; its a feature don't you know..'

So I end up writing doublespeak. What I want to write is 'We are not morons. We know that there will be repairs necessary but we have just wasted a week of my life getting someone else to write them out, type it up and carefully bind it in plastic, just to tell me that some repairs will be necessary. Just. Do. It.

This is not, of course, what I write. But I am deeply annoyed at another weekend of piddling about waiting to see what happens next, and will be even more deeply annoyed if a solution is not forthcoming pretty damned sharpish on Monday. Camping outside the office is looking like a sensible solution.

Rant over.

Windows to the soul

2011-02-24T09:53:00.001-08:00

I have this fantastic image in my head from today; a customer whose shopping so perfectly fitted him that it made me wonder how often that happens. I must make a mental note to make a physical note when it does - I could have a little collection of character outlines in shopping...

I wrote a couple of Haikus in Glasgow on a similar note I guess; the age-old question of our character being reflected in our visage. Teresa in the 'Unbearable Lightness' gazing in the mirror hoping to see her soul (must look up that quote).

With her fruit trolley,

Old lady in Birkenstocks

Reminds me of me

A man with a nose

Wears his black hat tipped proudly

For promenading

That was the two from Glasgow... The guy I served today was all neaty sweety in a tweed suit; perfectly fitted with a high waist and immaculate tie. A reall dandy. Fluffy hair brushed, not combed and twinkling eyes. He was buying lemons and Parade Gloss shoe polish in brown.

Mrs Jigsaw

2011-02-22T10:36:00.000-08:00

Skippety-skipped to my beloved cashdayjob today in the spring sunshine, humming the opening lines of 'Oh what a beautiful morning'. It rained soon after in true Edinburgh style, but felt great at the time to be seeing a hazy glimpse of the coming spring. Thought about how cool it will be if it is sunny in Amsterdam in a month's time, and how much I am looking forward to being there on holiday at last... always love the first day in a new city, rucksack on back and map not yet wadded into a ball in my hand. We always end up arriving by train from the airport after being stung too many times by taxi fares - even Bangkok has a spectacularly organised bus service for pennies; it is slow, but far preferable to air-con blandness and a rip off price.

Looks like the walk from the Amsterdam station takes us on a bit of a tourist whistle-stop of the city anyway, which will be good for getting bearings. For some reason my usually useless sense of direction becomes a finely honed machine once on holiday and becomes my main duty, while Stu handles finance. Nothing improves my lousy maths, especially an exchange rate sum to, so that is best left in safer hands.

Another weight has lifted tonight from my determinedly heavy brow (this week has been a vintage one for worry-mongering) with the email stating that our side of the finance is on target; big sigh of relief. Now I can shift my worrying attentions to the survey result and the 'damp problems' alluded to therein. If I had found a tenement basement in Edinburgh without damp I think I would deserve a medal, so no surprises, just be good to know what course of action is needed and how much. Starting to look into grants for renovations tomorrow as there must be something we can go for...

Messing with little paintings suggested by the big one I just finished, which is very satisfying and given me ideas for signage within the gallery and cafe; Mrs Jigsaw may be appearing in a few places soon...

At home on the island

2011-02-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

Another of the winter days that reminds me of the 'Spoon' lyric; 'the winter gets cold in ways you always forget'. Thats the seasons in a nutshell for me; it always takes me by surprise how long the winter is; when it snows I have to re-learn snow walking and snow travel-timing. On such days as these I am puzzled by the huge span of time since we last saw leaves and flickering sun through the trees. Days seem shorter each year and nights longer; the cold is damper and more cutting. Come the summer I am amazed all over again by the long days; being able to garden into the evening and wake to green outside the window and the chippering birds.

I am noticing the span of time this winter in particular as I count down to a change in our life and circumstances, while trying.. so.. hard not to count the minutes, the days and the seconds passing. I try to follow the very logical idea of living in the moment; relishing the time we have and not wasting days, evenings waiting for the next dawn, but it is suddenly very hard.

This said; today was very enjoyable despite the damp grey and the tendency to pessimism and worry that keeps settling on me. Met up with a friend in Stockbridge and obsessed over other peoples cafes while also managing a couple of fine charity shop purchases and seeing some small gallery shows along the way. Comparing notes with another artist does one of two things to me; fills me with fear for our collective fate at the hands of recession and poverty, or inspires me to carry on regardless in the face of the slings and arrows... today it kind of managed both. Bought a nice big piece of canvas and posted the painting I have just finished to FB to a small flurry of positive comments. Great way to manage the transition between paintings - find just the right amount of inspiration and support, stretch a new canvas and take the plunge. I can't help thinking how much easier it would be if I could see something out the window; I feel like an island.

Parade for the birth of Bon

2011-02-20T11:29:00.000-08:00

Okay, stay with me here... this is about the painting I have essentially finished today on a very quiet day in the Ritchie Collins gallery in Leith, where I spend my Sundays.
This is welcome respite as we are busy setting up a business that will, all things willing, open in early May after an April of renovations, equipment and artists. The company is called Bon Papillon, and we now have all of our 'setting up' business completed; me and Stu can entertain ourselves calling each other 'Director' and looking at our little folder of mysterious papers that may or may not become relevant as the year progresses. Now, Bon Papillon is also a wee guy who appears in my paintings, due to an earlier quote from a college friend about me seeming as if I was 'newly emerged from a narrow cocoon'. That was a while back and I feel as if the line could have applied numerous times in my years, but none more so than now, as we finally break free of the catering industry and set off into the sunset on our own. So... the painting I have been working on is essentially a celebratory picture of the 'emerging' of Bon the butterfly (aka me) into his new and strange world. Previous pictures have alluded to a kind of harem called the 'Joy Garden'; I have invented various characters who live there and so it seemed a natural extension of this to have Bon emerging from the garden alongside some of its stranger inhabitants. The fact that we are about to set up a business in the shade of the Botanic Gardens is yet another serendipity to add to the pile.
The wee guys accompanying Bon on his debut are a mixture of Hieronymous Bosch and Toy Story; quite where they came from in my mind is a worry, but this is them straight from sketch book to canvas in a day, so they must have been living in there somewhere...

The more I look at it, the more I think that I reveal more about myself than I realise in my paintings; certain things have a habit of recurring and the whole feel tends to be very autobiographical. The problem comes in explaining this to a sceptical punter when he enquires politely what it is 'about'. 'Well, its about my emergance from the shadow of a number of opressive forces that have dogged my life for a while, the support of those who are helping me attain this and the motley crew of influences, friends and circumstances that have led me to this historic personal threshold. Not sure about the jigsaw lady.'

Its a puzzle I guess.

Kind of, kind of

2011-02-19T12:31:00.000-08:00

Kind of funny, kind of sad how I can still waste a day of freedom and relaxation by becoming a worry-monger, focusing on negatives and generally not making the most of the time given. It was as if my dark side ganged up on me from the outset today and I didn't have a chance to struggle against it; one of those archetypal 'got out the wrong side' days. Of course, the view greeting me on opening the curtains was of sheets of sleet; the hills veiled in a chilly fog and the poor tentative plants wishing they had stayed budded for a few weeks longer.

I know that by the time Stu returns I will have cured myself of my guilt and realised that, in amongst the angst I did actually achieve something; so as an exercise, I shall pre-empt myself and figure out what they were...

1) Exchanged DVD that was not working for a copy that is, free of charge or hassle

2) Took Stu's ma out for lunch and shopping

3) Found out how to create my own website and began the process

4) Wrote out mailing list for Bon Papillon from all my past contacts

5) Made dinner

And just to see how stupid it looks in print, here are my main worries of the day..

1) Have become suddenly fat, overnight

2) Have become alarmingly spotty

3) Have wasted day off in that no painting has been done

4) Failed to hoover house

5) Have yet to pin down artists for first show of not-yet-open gallery

6) Cats seem unsettled and worrysome (now both curled up asleep)

Guess I might as well go and do some painting and then all I have to worry about is going on a supermodel-designed crash diet and hoovering the house. Wooo.

A hiccup and some good ideas

2011-02-18T02:47:00.000-08:00

The good ideas come from a FB friend who I find very interesting; her ideas come from a book by Julia Cameron called 'The Artists' Way' which is concerned with inspiration, motivation, the processes of being an artist. The two things she mentioned are the 'Morning Pages' and the 'Artist's Date'. The former consists of sitting down and writing for three pages straight without 'thinking' about it, thus gradually finding your 'inner voice'. Although I usually do it at night, my blog has the same aim, although I could not have put the idea to paper so eloquently. I do know that writing and thinking has become a good bit easier (and my typing speed quicker) over the course of the year. I guess it has impacted on my painting too, but that would be hard to gauge as so many things have changed over the last 12 months which have affected the way I work. Mostly positive, miraculously.

The 'Artists' Date' is also something I am familiar with but had not formally identified; I know that I work better after one of my 'wanders' ; to a craft fair, gallery, bookshop, or even a garden.

Somehow it kick-starts the creative process by getting all the images running through my mind, and probably helping with relaxation too. Ordered the book (second hand) from Amazon.

The hiccup... comes in the form of a slightly negative survey of the property we are hoping to rent for the gallery~cafe. I don't have the full details and will have to wait over the weekend (cheers) to see them, but the words 'damp' and 'timbers' were mentioned. Call me optimistic, but I would be really surprised if the survey of a tenement didn't include these words.. as least the dreaded 'subsidence' isn't present. The way I see it; as long as the work isn't too prohibitive, it is preferable to starting all over again looking for another comparable property in terms of location, size, specification etc. which may or may not exist at this time or within the next six months. By then we will be out of work, temping or begging and fast running through our savings. So. Bring on the damp and lets hope we can get it sorted within a reasaonable budget, bearing in mind the above alternative. Fingers crossed. We had the same problem buying our house and used the same solution; gradual renovation within budget to achieve the aim over time. Patience.

Gathering

2011-02-17T11:42:00.000-08:00

Building up a small, but growing collection of small paintings on my sideboard, destined for the gallery we are opening in a couple of months. Spending plenty of quality time looking for other artists to show as well, which is one of the reasons I am looking forward to getting into the business. Hope to find some good companions for this little lot.

Break and Decoration

2011-02-16T10:01:00.000-08:00

A truly lovely and optimistic day despite the appalling Edinburgh drizzle doing its best to dampen the procedures and lower spirits. They were not to be lowered today. Took the bus in to allow wandering and started with our meeting at Pagan Osborne in their lovely offices on Queen Street; whipped off my dodgy green knitted hat (made by the cook on the Buddhist meditation retreat I attended two years ago; treasured possession) before entering and tried to look as professional as possible when rain bedraggled and feeling scruffy due to the bizarre decision not to wash my hair this morning. Meeting ended talking about renovation of New Town houses and their curvy doors, which was the greater part of the time as all we really needed to do and know was over in a few minutes. Hand over passports and address ID, sign some paper and confirm that 1st April is a practical start date (Yessss!!) and that was that. All we have to do is wait with optimism that the survey doesn't reveal anything too hideous and we.. are... go.........!!!

Already booked a guy to sand the floor as he did our back room and was so laid back and cheap that there was no other choice. How cool is is going to look.. had a shifty at the Farrow and Ball shop for paint on our travels today as well. Great, despite wanting to head-butt a 'workie' who watched me caressing paint brushes and observed that 'they're all the same and you should go to B&Q.' Obviously likes his walls with added hair. Muttered that I was an artist and rather liked brushes, but left of the expletives I wished to add. Far too nice a day for picking fights with morons.

Checked out the Flaubert Gallery in Stockbridge; nothing particular caught my eye apart from a couple of gorgeous drawings by Blythe Scott. Looked her up tonight and just love all of her paintings; amazing colour, light, pattern... and they are architectural, which is so not usually me. Hoping, hoping we might get to show some in Bon Papillon; I'm looking in earnest for painters and ceramics for the kick-off show and for the rest of the year; be good to get an outline of what I aim to do before it all gets crazy and my mind is pulled in all directions.

The other really good show we saw today was Alexander Fraser, at the Scottish Gallery. Freakishly similar to what I have been mulling in my brain for my own development; still life based but with amazing flights of fancy and imagination developing across the canvas. Muted but stunning colour and humour too; in a good way. Find it very hard to believe I haven't seen any before; maybe I have... but not often. He is RSA, RSW, so must have been in some of the shows I have been perusing over the past years, surely? Great show and lots of it too; whole top floor of the gallery, which is usually split into two.

Now thinking of dinner and a movie after playing with our new jigsaw, priming up canvases and booking our so, so much needed break to Amsterdam. Can't believe it's been a year and a half without a trip abroad; this will be an amazing wee time for us in the few days leading up to 'renovation'; get some more good ideas too no doubt. Pack the cameras and sketchbooks... and a damn good pair of walking shoes if I know Stu like I know Stu.....

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2011-02-14T00:42:00.000-08:00

Ah, Valentines day... a.k.a. *the one we ignore*. Having worked in the hospitality industry for over ten years and served I don't know how many over-priced, thoughtless meals, I am not about to celebrate it now. However, I am not immune to thoughts of lurve, I just dislike condensing them into a cheesy love-fest for 24 hours. How about this for love: having met my gorgeous Chef, I embarked on a fourteen year career in catering to enable our relationship to flourish despite his ungodly working hours. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em very much the logic behind the decision. (Although 'decision' is really too strong a word, it was really just swimming with the tide.) Now I realise that I am not the only one to bend myself to fit our partnership; the self confessed 'art heathen' has gradually reached the point that last night I was greeted by the 'artmag' being poked in my face with suggestion of visiting the Jeff Koons exhibition. (As a side issue, he can now also differentiate between a Galliano and a Gaultier, my witchy witchy work again...) I will never forget our first visit to the Musee Picasso in Paris, watching the scepticism turn to joy and wonder as we walked the rooms; last time we were in the city I was dragged forcibly to the Rodin museum, berated for not having disclosed its location before.

Leopards and spots, books and covers... maybe not so clear cut...

The birth of Bon

2011-02-13T13:54:00.000-08:00

Had a good little 'at peace with the world day' today; all ticking along like tickety-boo. Woke up early but not tired and received my regulation tea in bed (can't fault the boy for that one) before driving aforementioned boy into his work. Okay, maybe a shade of blackmail involved but who's counting? Returned in the morning drizzle to complete my business plan - as ever the finishing was very much a whimper rather than a bang - and patted myself on the back before heading 'cross town to Ritchie's gallery. It has been a long, lean winter of Sundays gallery sitting - I enjoy the solitude and peace to paint but feel faintly guilty being paid to do it. Today at last we had a return to form on the customer front; I have heard echoes of this sentiment during the week, that the great hibernation was over, but it is good to see it in person.

Helped that it was Valentine's eve, so quite a few seeking cards and gifts, including the very lovely individual who treated his love to one of my Angel/cat paintings. I know in my heart that it is never a bad thing to paint cats, but fear it as the pigeonhole is daunting. Mad cat lady. I know I'm headed that way in a fast car anyway and think Bridget Bardot had far more credibility in her animal sanctuary years, but there is still a nub of resistance...

Also had one of those wonderful and spontaneous days of painting when it all just goes right. Been pondering colour again and why I manage to screw it up so often; I think it is the fear. When I am relaxed and 'in the mood' it all comes together because I have no reticence in application. Sad mood or blue mood = blue. Literally. Seems I can't break away from the colour when I am thinking too much and before you know it there is yet another tonal study in shades of sky and ocean. Would matter less if it was a picture of sky and ocean, but it rarely/never is.

So tonight, in between thinking about a new website and writing a resignation letter, I am gazing lovingly at the second stage of 'Parade for the birth of Bon'. Bon, of course, is the butterfly on the logo of my new business, so the painting is self explanatory in an autobiographical way. Time for a small box canvas to keep me on my toes; the big one can wait for better light.

Director's cut

2011-02-12T12:17:00.000-08:00

Bateau-Lavoir Days is coming to its final weeks! I had always intended to to the full year until events took over and the long awaited business plans began to snowball. Now I find myself suddenly the Director of a new company alongside my co-director Stu, looking into the abyss. Luckily, from where I'm standing right now, (and that's after my SWOT analysis for the final pages of the business plan), it all looks pretty green and lush down in the abyss. Flowers, waterfalls, little animals skipping among verdant pastures, you get the image. Kind of like in Jurassic Park but with less Velociraptors. Have I ever mentioned that Twig the kit makes a noise like a Velociraptor, or at least like the ones in the movie when they are tweaking things in the kitchen looking for the child actors...

In my own little movie I am just reaching a turn of the reel - the 'cigarette burns'. One roll is coming off and another going on marked 'Bon Papillon'. If all goes to plan, and that is how we start every sentence at the moment, I will swap reels on my blog at the end of March, as we return from our much, much needed break in Amsterdam and embark on the new and wonderful experience that I am quite sure self employment will be. Thing is, if there is one thing I love it is learning, and something tells me that the curve is about to get sharper. Woo hoo.

OOt on the TOOn

2011-02-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

Must be a milestone of sorts; met up with wonderful old college friend tonight and actually went into town.. into not one, but two bars... attended a private view full of interesting art and fashion related people! Now this has not happened for a very.. long.. time. Part of this is due to the year of poverty and my now second nature miserliness/frugality, but part is also due to a growing fear of reverting to such situations after such an absence, and sober to boot!

Glad to report that I am still able to talk rubbish, put the world to rights and buy unneccessary accessories without the aid of alcohol; no practice required either, I was like a duck to water. The early bed-time is probably the only thing that has changed (and the horror of spending a tenner on two drinks and some olives) and that is only due to the limiting factor of drinking fizzy water. It just doesn't sustain one as alcohol does, fails to propel the body forth on a night of mystery and intrigue in quite the same way. I get, you know, tired and start to think in a far-too-rational way about dinner, slippers and cat feeding. Still, it is a good compromise between my recent life of the ascetic and the dimmer past of debauchery and waste.

I just know that when Stu gets back from his night at the stove I will feel like Bill Murray in 'Lost in Translation' talking on the phone about his night out in Tokyo.. 'it was in this really, really great house... there were Japaneses surfers there..'

No surfers in fact, but I did meet an impossibly structured Scandinavian model who looked like another species, but was very pleasant, and a Siberian-Estonian artist who knew my work. Woh.... freaky. And cool. Must get out more:)

Ebb and Flow

2011-02-08T12:00:00.000-08:00

'I come back to you now, at the turn of the tides...' Good old Gandalf in Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson version, can't remember if he says that in the book and am not about to flick through to find out. Just totally feeling that now. People I haven't heard from for years keep appearing in my life, long stories unknown to me and such long paths travelled from where they last diverged.

I have the feeling that always comes in spring, the beginning, rebirth, emerging, stretching to the sun.. but this year is is even more so. I feel like running everywhere and have done so on a few occasions this week, probably making myself look like a loon and not caring. In sleet and snow, running down Dundas Street to meet old friends at the Royal Academy building; thinking how this has been my home for so long now that I would feel like a tourist in London. I like to follow the eyes of the visitors as they gaze at buildings to try and see what they are seeing, as they see it; for the first time, in wonder.

Part of me is dissolusioned with people and their bitchy little ways, but I feel that if I just shake my shoulders they will fall away and leave me with the solid people I can trust and be comfortable with. I can feel the wind turning and the chance to take flight, make a great leap 'beyond myself'. Don't laugh, it is happening.

Cat Crazytown

2011-02-07T14:20:00.000-08:00

A vintage night for lovers of cats' crazy little ways in my house tonight. Apologies to those of you without sympathy for the mad ways of our furry friends, but lets face it, you are wrong. They are cool, funny and good in bed (in a strictly platonic sense before those eyebrows shoot up); not many people can match up to that.

First Twig indulged in some light sweater hunting while I was on the phone to my mum; leaping from the top of the door to my (open plan) wardrobe thingy she stalked my furry brown jumper, stealthily winding between Stu's shirts before pouncing dramatically, catching the jumper quite unawares. Much kneading ensued, while clamping the jumper in her little teeth to prevent escape (naturally) until it was subdued; then it was speedily and efficiently carried to the lair (under desk) for more pummelling. And then discarded, forgotten. Had I not been in the room, crying with laughter, I would now be wondering how the hell my brown furry jumper ended up under the desk. Or more likely having the living bejesus scared out of me on entering the bedroom and spying an alien brown animal lurking in wait for me in the shadows....

Act two: all quiet in the living room working at the computer, cats arranged in artful cat positions on furniture when all at once from another part of the house we hear a *BIG NOISE*. Cats assume face and posture that translates as 'Mum! We heard a *BIG NOISE* from out there somewhere!!' They remain frozen, ears back and flat to the ground as 'mum' daringly creeps from room to room to find the cause; 'guard cats?' I think not...

Only to find the poor Amarylis (rescued from under the sink in a box not two weeks ago where it had begun to force its way out of the cardboard) has toppled to its fate on the bathroom floor...

Cleaning up the compost and water is hampered by the suddenly mobile furry friends deciding to help by digging, snuffling, dancing in the damn stuff. I suppose I should be grateful that the word 'earthtray' didn't occur to them in time or I would be cleaning up cat poop (again) as well..

Mush head

2011-02-06T15:03:00.000-08:00

My brain has been turned to paste by hours of figure crunching for the meeting with my Business bank manager tomorrow. Went out and about for yet more research of competitor businesses, local attractions and the like, which was educational and relaxing, but spent the rest of the day glued to the laptop, fingers tapping and coggs churning in my brain.

Have to confess that I think I am pretty sure what I am doing now in a way that I wasn't before I started writing the business plan thingy and I am also now adept at financial planning..

That is something I really didn't expect to have to be, but I do actually understand what I have been reading; it kind of falls into place eventually, Here's me thinking all these years that I was a lost cause when it comes to maths, but there is a glimmer of understanding in there and with the right conditions and a little spit and polish it can be coaxed into something useful.

Like blowing on the embers of a fire...

Passed through the Botanic Gardens on my travels and remembered how much I love the smell of late winter/early spring in places with many plants; just that mulchy, wet, green smell and the tiniest hints of things stirring and coming slowly out of their winter stupour. Much like me, really. Sadly didn't get to start on the painting for my logo of 'Bon Papillon' the butterfly, but I couldn't do it when I had too little time or it would have gone horribly wrong. It is going to be part of the larger painting I have been working on, now called 'Parade for the birth of Bon'.

Woo hoo. On with that tomorrow if I am reallly lucky and the computer work doesn't eat up another whole day...

Behind the door

2011-02-05T11:31:00.000-08:00

Still suffering the cleaning-up rituals associated with a cat who seems to have a permanent dodgy tummy without showing any symptoms or results in all the tests the vet has subjected her to. Worrying that my house will smell of cat poo to a visitor as we are becoming fast immune to it; reaching for the anti-bac wipes (floor) and then baby wipes (cat bum) is starting to feel like the normal routine when entering the house from work. I wonder if in this lies the answer ;when we are not present we have no problems, our lovely girl seems to like our participation in the cleaning process... she is a deeply strange cat with numerous neurotic habits, so who's to say this isn't the latest incarnation of her funny little mind?

Not that I can talk; my worrying is legendary but I impressed even myself today. Leaving work and walking down the street I was suddenly gripped by a worry - 'what was it I was supposed to be worrying about?' That was the literal sentence that formed in my head, and I had to find the answer (cat and poo) before setting off on my way again. I am the archetypal mad person who worries that they don't have anything to worry about. Slippery slope...

Just reading a story about an obsessive hoarder and thinking, 'there but for the grace...'. It does beg the age old question of 'What is normal?'.

I'm thinking of Dash's outburst in 'The Incredibles' (who says we have to quote highbrow?):

'Normal?!! What does anyone in this family know about normal??' I spend worry time thinking about my mother talking/singing to herself and then, surprise, catch myself doing it. Plus ca change (plus c'est la meme chose).

Thankfully small Hiccup

2011-02-04T13:56:00.001-08:00

Weather kicking up a storm today; one of the poor little thorn trees in Morningside has upended.

Managed to lose one of my lovely wrist warmer gloves in Queen Street or thereabouts while battling the very Scottish wind; sad when they are some of the only things I have treated myself to in the last 12 months. Bleedin' typical.

Very grown up meeting indeed with the solicitors today but managed to come away jubilant; not with that sneaking hunch that you are trying to punch above your weight. Feels weird discussing sums of money and events that I never dreamed might actually come to fruition, but comforted myself in the ususal manner of imagining things (as they are) as just bits of paper and figures. It really is all like a big game of make believe; no-one really has the money or the right to own a property, its all abstract in the great scheme of things. All seems pretty easy when you look at it that way. Just been filling in a form for Stu's new passport having realised that he 'doesn't exist' in the eyes of the law right now in terms of opening bank accounts, engaging solicitors etc.... I love these little hiccups!

Stats

2011-02-03T15:03:00.000-08:00

Hours spent on business plan after day's work at supermarket - 4

Times played John Grant album to sooth process - 4

Times wiped E45 cream on cat's bum in the last 24 hours - 2

Number of cups of tea consumed - 5

Number of colleagues at dayjob now aware of business plans - 3

Time of appointment with Solicitor to start ball rolling on property - 9.30

Number of raindrops falling at present outside - 9 zillion

Number of snowflakes forcast to fall before solicitors appointment - 9 zillion

Days left to complete business plan before next finance meeting - 4

Pieces of paper consumed in recording facts and figures for marketing plan - 15

Hours of sleep predicted tonight during storm, worrying about meeting - 2

Conversations with self about cats/ cleaning / tea - 5

Times got annoyed on phone after promising not to answer it - 2

Minutes left to perform household chores and make dinner before Stu arrives - 35

Not bad, I might just do it.

Dare to Hope

2011-02-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

That we might just be getting somewhere at last... saw a great property today that would potentially be just exactly what we are looking for. Looking down on the central city skyline from a leafy place.. great light and space, and more importantly that 'good' feeling that some places give you. Feng shui, I guess. So now I am head down and writing, writing, thinking, writing to get the business plan finished, ideas all out of paper. Problem is that they come so thick and fast I sometimes have a job remembering everything. Caught up with excellent and very creative friend today who added fuel to the flames with still more ideas, and also offered practical help in decorating and support; all very welcome. Briefly, tantalisingly, feel as if I could take on the world today, the naysayers, the cynics and doubters. I felt like running today for the first time in a long, long time; so I ran to the supermarket and back. Felt good.

The wolves are behind me now, I can feel them; I am finally in the mood to really write and think my heart out for the sake of our little future. Cross everything you've got.

Oh, and almost forgot - my painting of the Scottish Parliament has been included in a calendar competition I entered; potential for show of pics at the Parliament too and cards/related merchandise. That's all next year's Christmas pressies sorted then:)

A dream location?

2011-01-31T13:25:00.000-08:00

For someone with a well documented school phobia, this business plan is becoming a thing of horror. I am limiting myself to 'bite sized' pieces of learning and/or producing as I have found this is the only way to keep myself on the straight and narrow. One of my problems, full stop, is that I want everything to be done *now* and find it really hard to envisage a project carrying on a few weeks, even when I know that has to be the case. Spent a large and very pleasant part of the day researching an entirely new area of the city, which was a bit weird; I'm there to debate the possibility of setting up a business in this location and I didn't know it existed despite living here for fifteen years.. not a great omen? However, the lack of knowledge is largely circumstantial; I live on the opposite side of the city, have never worked there and have spend most of those fifteen years stuck in one of a selection of restaurants 24/7. The fact that it is a very pleasing area full of open spaces, parks and big stone houses means that it may yet be the one we are seeking. I always have my eye out for the poetic, and names mean a lot to me; the street name and the area are both divine and would give us a superb business address. Shallow? Maybe intuitive? I know that I am more likely to follow up an address that appeals...

I am gradually knocking over the skittles that I have in my head marked as the hurdles to overcome on the path to self employment; I'm sure it wasn't this hard for my ex. in London who set up a graphic design business overnight on the back of my full time job and part time waitressing. Oh, and I bought his computer, which he casually forgot when I finally plucked up the courage to tell the lazy son-of-a-gun where to go and reclaim my self confidence, which he had gradually ground into the carpet. Sorry, did I say that out loud?

One of the joys of this experience is that despite my fear of essay writing and horror of unknown legal minefields, I am in it with someone who has the greatest respect for my confidence, who I have worked with in evil situations for over seven years, and who will work his ass off for our benefit. Now, back to those pesky marketing figures...

Salon des Previsibles

2011-01-30T12:32:00.000-08:00

Started a new painting today; I have gone up in size for this one as I am filled with confidence and the return to a subject from pre-angel days. Elephants have always been good for me in terms of sales and popularity, and having spent yesterday in a mood of rebellion brought on by the exhibition rejection I am obscurely feeling like putting on my commercial hat to a certain degree. I temper this by adding that I have been spending far too much time in the company of Hieronymous Bosch and letting my mind dwell on puppetry, so there will still be an edge of the stranger things that I see in my head. Trying to get to sleep last night I was letting my mind wander as it felt and ended up with the strangest procession of crazies wandering by; all very Monty Python/Bosch (the aforementioned artist, not the power tool manufacturer). Makes me want to laugh out loud sometimes and also brings to my attention, not for the first time, how close the division must be between the so-called 'normal', sane person and those we bang up in institutions and feed on semolina.

The gallery selection thing is still praying on my mind; not in negative way but as a puzzle that will probably never come any closer to solution. Reading yesterday all the comments from the 'Salon des Refuses', most of it focused on the idea that they were outcast due to their deviation from the acceptable in terms of subject. The thinking that if they had listened to the people in their lives who had suggested they stop painting whatever comes into their head and concentrate on commercial or popular themes then success would be inevitable. This might apply if the selection was for a commercial gallery, but the Societies stand on a platform of innovation and boundary-pushing; to 'show the controversial and the unexpected and to give hanging space to new artists of promise'.

If this is true then rejection is more likely to be on the grounds of being less than unexpected and controversial; of being prosaic and normal; or lacking in promise. Makes the whole reject thing a bit less romantic and points to my mind more in the direction of back-slapping and nepotism. There are an awful lot of entries and the tendency is always going to be there to blinker the 'new artists of promise' bit and bung in a selection of the usual suspects.

I think that is the better reason to turn our collective backs and deny the funding our entries produce; maybe a bit more of the unexpected and the new artists would be welcome if there was suddenly less cash flowing into the coffers to show off the work of the chosen few every year?

What a feeling....

2011-01-29T11:38:00.000-08:00

Some really good comments online today as all the artists licked their wounds following the reject day at the Exhibiting Societies exhibition. Quite a funny atmosphere as ever with the start of the show already hanging and the leftovers scattered around the walls in dejection; people picking over the remnants searching for their passed-over works. Always strikes me as marvellously shambolic in the security department as if nothing of worth could be left in the also-rans; its just a case of help yourself and initial the sheet at the required space. Someone could make a killing in there if they knew what to nick.

The commentary on Facebook was so familiar; why do we do this? Why try to push that square peg in the round hole time after time? Gave me an idea for a new psychological condition called the 'Flashdance' syndrome; talented but individual performer feels the need to compete for seemingly unattainable Establishment training despite being utterly mismatched to the institution and having no discernable benefit to gain. I guess it is intended to be read as an escape from the tawdry world of club dancing to the elite heights of the ballet, but is it really necessary? Could Jennifer's character not have found better satisfaction and ultimately stayed truer to herself had she gone and joined some edgy arthouse dance theatre?

Nope, she had to get her legwarmers on and impress those fuddy-duddies; show them what they were missing and why they should embrace her raw, vital version of the art. Likely?

Funnily enough, in real life us would-be Flashdancers get no joy when we go banging on the doors of the academy demanding our moment in the spotlight... back to the table dancing for us then.

I should have remembered from my long lost art history lessons, but it was also brought to our attention that the Impressionists, those rebellious, risque purveyors of all that was edgy and cutting were rejects themselves who exhibited as the 'Salon des Refuses'. Another era, same old, same old...

Glimmers, glimmers in the dark

2011-01-28T13:53:00.000-08:00

The first Hellebore flower sneaked up on me today, as they always do. I stalk the buds as they hug the surface of the earth, checking on them daily through the early part of January when there is little or nothing to see, and then out of my head it goes. Next thing I know there is a full flower nodding its fringed face above the soil and the others not far behind it. What a feeling; the return of the flowers, the coming of the swifts and swallows, mackerel skies over heat haze... maybe not quite yet, but a hint does wonders to lift tired spirits out of the January doldrums. I have always felt totally cheated by my birth date; no one at all wants to celebrate anything a week after the new year and two weeks after the Christmas binge. Sod pretending to be younger than I am, how about relocating my birthday a few months into the year so I can lounge in the meadows drinking lemonade and watching the cherry blossom float by? Surely moving a birthday is as legitimate these days as shifting wrinkles ever skywards or fabricating a taut stomach with spandex and hope...? I think late April will do nicely.

Suffered with the usual stoicism the usual rejection from the yearly Society of Scottish Artists show; I think it is only my inner masochist that lets me enter in the first place when there is no suggestion that my work would be at home there; I just can't resist a competition. Its just an extension of the 'Vision On' gallery, which I entered until I was blue in the face and tantrumming, but never got in.

Recovered my resolve and 'calm centre of the world' stance by taking the cat to the vet (so calming!) and feeding her new pills wrapped in tiny pieces of ham (not mad at all) before washing her bum in warm water (highly recommended as a leisure activity!) and talking nonsense to her for a while before leaving for work. Returned to peace, serenity and no cat poo on the floor, so things are improving by the moment.

After all that there is nothing, literally nothing that I feel like more than reading more information on VAT and 'A guide to understanding balance sheets'. Luckily I am also luxuriating in the new semi-wealth that is creeping up on us (comparative to last year's poverty) and have a new CD to listen to - John Grant's 'Queen of Denmark'; man with a fine turn of phrase and a wry sense of humour, which are very hard to find successfully combined in an album. And some good sweary words, which I always find strangely satisfying.

Surround sound

2011-01-26T11:51:00.000-08:00

Stu's amazingly cool frames are coming together in the kitchen; I always know he's off now as I hear the music playing in the kitchen and smell the wax polish. Using stencils and prints over the multiple layers of paint them letting him work his magic with cloths and wire wool. Suits my little angel lady well methinks.
Out researching the turnover of framers today which seem to be remarkably buoyant; not sure why people are still out there framing so many things in a recession but it sure suits me.
Slowly starting to get my head around the figures and facts that I need to collate; its all tolerable when you break it down into those bite sized pieces.

Worry monger

2011-01-25T11:59:00.001-08:00

Ah, the cycles of life. Up one day and down the next; or not 'down' so much as feeling as if a cattle prod had been once more inserted into my head. I have an inbuilt and well documented school phobia, and the business plan is beginning to appear in my mind as worryinglike like homework. Homework with a real and crucial purpose in a similar manner to an end of year exam that determines the path of the next stage of your life. No pressure then. My current stress is based on the necessity to find certain information and having no idea where to find this; the solution is clear but (to me) painful. Ask. This is a sign of weakness in the Nilsson mind, which for some reason thinks that all answers will be accessible if I just *think* hard enough. See that worry line engrained on my brow? Years, decades of trying to *think* of solutions to problems that are best solved by... asking.

Solving problems is always best viewed from a distance; the view of the landscape and not the feet underneath one. So I am trying to step back and see the lay of the land; stop focusing on the niggly problem stalling my research and see the progress I have made in other areas; look for areas I do know something about or can access information easily and get them underway while I wait for divine intervention. Or someone to tell me how to do it.

Mini Boom

2011-01-24T13:51:00.000-08:00

Despite waking with a cat on my head squeaking and a two books under my pillow which were hidden from the squeaking cat (who chucks them about to wake me up) the day turned out pretty alright today. Strange when I committed one of my cardinal sins today and left the house without washing my hair, meaning that I now feel as if I have slept in a muddy hedge. I have nothing whatsoever against those who do not wash their hair every day and wish I could sometimes forego the time-intensive process every morning; in fact for the first few hours it looks better.. but then everything goes horribly wrong for me and I start being able to use it as a sculpting material. No kidding; right now I can make some pretty promising haystacks and wave formations.

Second activity of the day was pretty unpromising too; poor Moomoo has the runs and has been 'scooting' around the floor to itch her obviously uncomfortable cat-butt. Worming time.

For a pretty portly, exercise despising cat, she can however pack a pretty mean punch, and will sadly also play dirty and use teeth if it is necessary to escape forced pill insertion. Stu now has the plasters to prove it and no pill came even close to gullet. Until..

Eureka! Purchased some fine wafer thin ham, a normally banned food substance, and made tiny pill and dry biscuit wraps (having already failed with usual food camouflage techniques) which the girl wolfed down without a question. Phew. She is now sleeping peacefully with what I imagine is a smile of relief curling her (bloodthirsty, greedy) lips. Bless.

Day began to pick up with a cheering meeting with our Mortgage advisor, who managed to guide me through legal documents with humour and allay my fears. No mean feat when you have a world class worry problem like wot I 'av.

Back at the ranch, buoyed by successful worming and finance deals, I settled to an afternoon's unadulterated painting, ignoring all other calls for attention from the paperwork section of the house, and essentially finished the picture I have been working on called 'Snowcatcher'. The latest of my angels, this arrived in my head during the December snows; she is a kind of an analogy for the futile tasks we (as people and as individuals) set ourselves. My angels all seem to have the urge to work as guardians for the thankless population of humankind, and this one is trying to aid in our Canute-like attempts to turn back the tide of nature. She is, however, quite serene in her task and I imagine she sees it as a pleasant diversion rather than a chore; she is wistful but content.

Packing up my paints and taking up the mouse for a check of the computer, I found a message showing two of my wee angels in situ at a fellow artist's house; purchased earlier from Ritchie's gallery. After a few bleak and disappointing weeks on the sale front, this is very welcome, and even more so as the purchaser is someone whose work I admire greatly. A double whammy in the confidence stakes; sales are often the only concrete measure of success, and while compliments are welcome and nourishing, it is a real treat to see pictures go to a new home. It later transpired that two more left the gallery last week, so a seeming slump is turning into a mini-boom.

It's all about perception, isn't it?

Snowcatcher

2011-01-23T09:10:00.000-08:00

Working on the above at Ritchies; unbelievable how the time flew today. Plenty of interesting visitors today to chat to and my trusty flask of tea at my side meant no trips to the kettle, just the occasional lean over to change music on the 'pod'. Strange to be on such a big canvas after a few teeny ones; they are great for getting ideas out of my head quick and good for developing styles and colour. Liking the colours I'm playing with on the big one just now and did some nice chunky paintwork on the snow at the front; good to have a lot of paint around to play with just now. I am terrible at rationing myself and many a picture has probably suffered because of it.

Spent a very pleasant morning reading Mr Hemingway, who is slowly making inroads into my brain; driving to work my head was full of images of Africa. Couldn't believe the speed with which the relaxing time sped by however; I feel guilt every time I am not working on something just now so it was welcome to let that go for a couple of hours... but so brief.

Thinking of just holing up in the studio tonight while the mood takes me and getting some more mileage done on the Snowcatcher. Just because I feel like it.

Puppets surround me

2011-01-22T10:29:00.001-08:00

One of those days in cashdayjob world when I wished the ground would open up and reveal a leafy path stretching away into a utopian landscape... beckoning green fronds, whispering streams... It didn't. Tried somewhat half-heartedly to write notes to myself all day as is my practise; just things I am thinking about or ideas for paintings; the best I managed was a piece of paper from this morning that reads 'masks, costumes, puppets, theatre'. This is a continuation of what has oftern concerned me in the last year or two and ties in with the angels who keep appearing. There are so many influences in films, paintings and just day to day looking at the magazines around, shop windows, books.. I have always had a thing about puppets; sometimes scary and sometimes for some reason emotional. I think it is the control thing and the idea of a creation, 'Frankenstein's monster' style of a little being that can be manipulated and made to dance to the puppetteer's tune. Obviously the film 'Being John Malkovich' has got into my head there, and today I found myself browsing the brochure for a puppet theatre festival taking place in the city; all very dark, which was appealing. Wolves, murderers; some great illustrations as well, but alas I forgot to save them.

It is frustrating to have so many little ideas bubbling up when I have essentially got my hands tied a bit just now. At least I have reduced the hours of customer service to a more manageable level, but there is still so much to do and so much to think about. Trying to break it down into bite sized pieces, as alone none of the tasks are scary; en masse it seems like a massive undertaking. Reminding self that a) others have done this without turning into nervous wrecks, b) this too shall pass, c) there is really no other choice; I couldn't not do this now.

The Walking mind

2011-01-21T14:15:00.000-08:00

Intrigued but slightly disturbed to realise that there is a correlation between walking and thinking in my blog posts; when it was snowing and I had two hours of walking every day I found myself thinking a lot more about a lot more things. Not sure about the quality of my thoughts, but there was definately a pattern of reflection and mental relxibility which is absent when all I do is drive to work, numb my mind for eight hours and drive back again.

Had a 'waitressing' dream for the first time in ages last night; anyone in catering will recognise what I mean: permutations on the theme of serving impossible numbers of customers in impossible situations. Something to do with the amount of worry piling up in my head about the business progression, but also maybe that lack of mental 'stretching' that I was allowing myself on the snowy days... My meditation has gone to pot over the last year and one of my resolutions for this year is to get back on track again, but I shall now also add walking (with or without meditation) to my list as well. And swimming. Nothing for it; I need a bigger day.

Hellooo Lucifer

2011-01-19T04:18:00.000-08:00

First meeting with business bank manager; feeling a little smaller but largely unscathed and I think my soul is still in place. Giving myself a few weeks to rewrite portions of business plan into bankspeak and add fictitious data to back it up; if that's what it takes... It does feel suspiciously like selling my soul, just to be able to do what I want to do; because at the end of the day I get to do the hard work and take the results. They get to sit in an office and demand demographics.

And so began my few weeks of hell; trying to research and complete a marketing plan that I will probably never read again. I know that isn't the point but there is just sooooo much information out there now and it is so hard to find the needles in the haystacks. I don't want to be arrogant and say that I know who the customers are, where they are and what they want, but I kind of do... I just need to write it all out in the shape and form desired and put some ribbons and bells on it. Send out questionnaires, ask questions of unsuspecting shoppers, or trawl the internet and find the results of someone else doing the same. I just feel that it is an exercise in reinventing the wheel; people who want to drink coffee and view art in a friendly, hip and bohemian area will find us, come back and tell their friends. It boils down to excellence in service and product with some word of mouth and reviews in the right place - which depend on excellence in service and product, being in the right place to find the right people and getting on with it.

I guess the only thing I would like to know is 'footfall'. How many people are going to come through that door. But anything I do to project that is just... speculation. It can be refined or educated speculation but that is all it is at the end of the day, and I would bet my bottom dollar that for every business that has gone on to succeed with an excellent marketing plan there are any number of businesses that have failed with an equally excellent one. Life is just not logical and cannot be reduced to numbers. Chaos theory, I can accept; a chaos marketing plan? Here goes..

Serendipity calling

2011-01-18T13:13:00.000-08:00

Bought an excellent hand carved wooden Buddha yesterday; about a foot high and truly beautiful as a piece of art, craft or whatever you wish to call it. Also meaningful for me as I am a wee bit of a fan of Siddhartha. Bought him in a 'Buddha sale' in Morningside; not a sign you see that often on the high street, so that in itself was fortuitous given my interest and the urge to spend some of our recently hard-won cash on something of more impact on my life than a pair of shoes. The seller was unsurprisingly delighted to make the sale, I was delighted to make the purchase at a fortuitous rate. Because I am a believer in karma; I do feel that in some little way my choice to spend money on a thing of beauty with no obvious function rather than a pack of fags or a large amount of chocolate is somehow enriching to my life. Obviously I could also use my cash to further the cause of others less fortunate and that would also be of spiritual gain rather than consumerist; but this purchase feels particularly timely and, as the guy who sold it commented, serendipitous. I really hope that is a word, by the way.

Also today another small hurdle was leaped in our quest to start our own business; the remortgaging is speeding by and the quote from the surveyor is in. I am still in a state of shock as I was quite worried that we might fall at this fence; but no. The quote is higher than expected and will give us a better rate than I could have dared hope for. Also, the last ten years, starting from literally nothing to rub together and a 100% mortgage, is starting to pay dividends at last.

Tomorrow is scary; tomorrow I go (alone - thanks to Stu's employers) to see the business bank manager for the first time.

Fast runs the sand

2011-01-17T07:43:00.000-08:00

Blatant theft of quote from someone else via someone else; each more eloquant than I will ever be but that is why I am borrowing their words.

''We are now faced with the fact, my friends, that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. The tide in the affairs of men does not remain at flood..it ebbs. We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is adamant to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residues of numerous civilisations are written the pathetic words, 'Too late'.'' Martin Luther King

This is what I want to say to everyone who is casting doubt on what I am trying to do and misunderstanding my need to put all I can into my art work, my business and my life. To the person yesterday who had me tearing my hair out with their negativity in the face of my optimism; their lack of faith. I may fail, fail again and fail again, but after that, I may succeed.

Without the failing, there will be no success, as there will be no trying.

Took my paintings in to the SSA show submission today; I have never been chosen to exhibit. I nearly didn't submit this year but a little voice reminded me of the above. Facts, not invention.

Out of igloos

2011-01-16T14:24:00.000-08:00

Leith seems to have woken from its winter slumber; numerous interesting visitors to the gallery today including some of the local children who once pestered me but have been absent since the snow fell. Maybe they just found their way out of their little igloos by the Water of Leith? Sold some box canvases to a great wee boy who is wanting to learn to paint; I hope he does well with them. I would have found that really intimidating at that age.

Spent some quality time flicking through the Taschen book of European portraits and watched Sophia Coppolla's 'Marie Antoinette' tonight which I love especially visually. More crazy pseudo-historical ladies on the way methinks..

Working on the 'Snowcatcher' painting today and another little one; all going to plan so far and thinking about colour a little more than I used to. Not entirely sure if this is a good or bad thing as sometimes it works better by instinct than design; conversely, the opposite can also be true.

Howling wind around the house tonight makes a change from snow; surveyors seeing the house tomorrow to further the remortgaging process , and the submissions go in for the SSA show. Also a sale of Buddhas in a shop in Morningside that I want to look at; not often you see that advertised...

Bring it on

2011-01-15T10:39:00.001-08:00

Spent some of my day in budget moded mind thinking about how much money goes drainward every day in the world and trying not to get depressed about it or start badgering people spending twenty quid on lottery tickets and thirty five on fags in a oner. Given the Buddhist ideal of a 'right occupation' I'm not at all sure why I am selling false dreams and fagash for a living at the moment anyway; I see it as a necessary learning curve, not to mention a necessity full stop. I have made the momentous decision today that this week is absolutely, positively the last one I will work five days full time in a row in the cash-money-job. My soul and brain are melting and I need more time to get on with the rest of my plans for the year; painting, planning and researching are the words of the moment.

Turned down the temptation to purchase another glossy magazine as I still haven't finished reading the ones Stu gave me for Christmas; certainly an investment present, they have kept me amused for hours. Just so many things clamouring for my attention at present though, so my traditional night-time reading slot is being eroded by necessity to sleep and other such annoyances.

Off to the gallery for my four hour stint tomorrow and looking forward to it more than usual as I have barely put brush to canvas all week. Monday is a busy one too as I have the surveyors round to value the house as part of the remortgaging thing, a business plan to work on and the submission of the SSA show (annual rejection opportunity) to sort out. I really have no idea whatsoever why I do it, especially this year as for some reason I have less hope than ever; not because hope in my own work has diminished but because hope in the selection process and realism regarding the type of work accepted is finally kicking in. I suppose I have always held out the hope that I will be randomly accepted as some kind of wild card, or that one of the selectors will mistakenly label my painting wrong... But no, I am not even doing this in my usual 'if I think the worst, maybe the best will happen' way; I am beyond hope. But, it has to be said; extremely happy and optimistic.

Primavera forever

2011-01-14T14:18:00.000-08:00

Having a bit of a Boticelli-fest; used some of my very welcome vouchers on the WHSmiths website for a Taschen binge in their sale. Durer and Boticelli are with me now, Raphael and another one I have forgotten (oops) are winging their way to me soon; great bedtime reading

/looking at pictures. Also whisked Stu into Homebase to purchase some useful power tools for his developing framing career; the Morso is still to come but that will not be joining us until we have a workshop to put it in! Feels good to own a jigsaw at last; I am still holding out for my electric screwdriver as this is not seen as such a necessity - it is with my pathetic wrists..

And... had a trip to the very lovely Stationary Express (buy local!) for my page to view diary, day book and petty cash folder. Things are moving forward.

Returning Angels

2011-01-13T11:28:00.000-08:00

The strange and cyclical nature of life and hope. Woke with a feeling of unfamiliar and welcome optimism and enthusiasm for the year ahead; on an early shift, which helps. I love the morning and its rhythms in the city; the commuters and children travelling in the dark, the metropolis waking slowly. It was more beautiful in the snow and will soon become beautiful with the return of the spring mornings and attendant re-emergence of life in flora and fauna. Today it all seemed lovely in the damp grey murk, so I knew somehthing good was occurring in my mood.

Back again go my thoughts to the great quote I always remember from the Unbearable Lightness of Being; 'the birds of fortuity had begun to settle on her shoulders' and so is seems.

Likened it in my mind today to the return of the angels that I have become obsessed with in the last year; everyone I interacted with today seemed to have a kind word or a positive anecdote, from the customers I served to the lady in the financial meeting we slipped in my lunch hour. This is another reason for positivity to blossom; the first small hurdle had been leapt in the quest to start our business in the coming months. Another wee step, but a meaningful one hopefully and something to build on.

Read a great thing about reindeer this morning too: some scientists have found that the reindeer of the northern tundra snack on magic mushrooms in the dark winter days; by preference.. the quote I liked was that they had a 'desire to experience altered states of consciousness'. Go reindeer! Must be something about the northern races; whats the betting that the ones over the Russian border are on the vodka?

So; the angels are returning to settle on my shoulders today. Long may their fluffy white wings tickle my ears.

Found wanting

2011-01-12T13:53:00.000-08:00

Lacking inspiration, motivation, feeling a little gloomy once more. This is not to say that opportunities are not presenting themselves and plans are dormant; to the contrary, I am racing ahead in my thoughts for the year and have reason to hope at the moment that we may be successful in our aims. Maybe I could do with a bit more time on what I want to do and a bit less smiling in a customer-friendly manner under neon lights? Should be careful what I wish for though really, or watch out for biting of hands that have kept me solvent thus far...

All will dawn clear and bright soon I have no doubt.

Started reading Hemingway at last and not sure if I like him that much. Or maybe that's part of the mood.. we shall see.

Difference a day makes

2011-01-10T10:54:00.000-08:00

Little exercise in how mood affects painting. Yesterday, for some reason unusually loaded with worries, I spent four hours on a very small painting which I had no interest in or connection with. Resulting image is now in the kitchen awating Stu's re-priming attentions.

Today, having lightened the load of some worries by various means, I painted something of identical dimensions as yesterday with less preparation, at half the speed. This little one, born of positivity, tea and cake, is my current favourite..(Although we all know how fast my favourites become outmoded!) Funnily enough, influences of the works I was looking at in the National the other day, and of the film 'The Other Boleyn Girl' that we watched a wee while ago. And of course, some yellow.

Quiet times

2011-01-09T10:42:00.000-08:00

First Sunday back in the gallery after the break for Christmas; felt good to sit and paint for four hours with no distractions (not even many customers, sadly) and no cats climbing the easel. Only had one cup of tea all day as I was drifting happily in my paint world and time sped by.

Mucking about with a little portrait on a wee box canvas turned into a long exercise and spent much of the time on that; correcting and moving face features and messing with colour.

All is at peace tonight at home as well; cats are being relaxed and scenic, arranged on rugs and cushions.

Birthday Outing

2011-01-08T09:12:00.000-08:00

Another birthday.. and a snowy one this year; woke to a 'white world' of creaky cushioned flakes.

A simple agenda for the day; bit of light painting, bit of music and then a wander of the galleries in the centre of town. I've been having a bit of a look at the Renaissance, the old Flemish stuff and really enjoying it, learning things I have forgotten or never knew; so we started in the National with a look at the above and a great wee room of Vermeers. I knew that the guy wasn't very prolific and so it was good to see even three; but for some reason I had it in my mind that his works were smaller, so wasn't prepared for the great vision of three big canvases. Awesome colours and compositions; and yes that included some yellow! Lots in fact.

Another pleasant surprise was the show at the Scottish Gallery on Dundas Street - new work from Peter Howson. Having just seen the documentary on him, and felt kind of ashamed for what I saw as a huge underestimation of his work and the man himself, it was a treat to see a good amount of work in the flesh. I loved the direct eye contact in the piece on the programme, the way the figure engaged the viewer so totally with such emotional depth; there were a few here that did the same thing, and all the more powerfully in real life. Having just seen the El Greco in the National I saw parallels with the emotional treatment and the use of white in the highlights; really striking when viewing one after the other... really striking show in general too. Slightly scary standing in front of a £100K canvas - a fine crucifixion; and the pieces are very immediate and human in that you could imagine having one around in the house. Maybe a bit beyond budget just now. Just put up a (yellow) Bellany reproduction in the newly decorated bathroom and joked about getting a real one with Marcus, the owner of the Braewell Gallery, our final destination of the day. Apparently we cound manage to pick up a watercolour for only a couple of hundred quid, which sorely tempts me; although not, as was pointed out, for the bathroom... Introduced Stu to Joe O'Brien's work in the flesh there as well, having only pointed at it on the computer monitor up until now - as with so many things (all?) the real power is reserved for standing in front of the canvas.

So, alltogether a most productive day so far; bought some movies, some postcards and a tube of paint. Yellow. 'Turner's yellow'... if it's good enough for him...

The evening's entertainment is very much between my own four walls tonight; movies, music, dinner and a wee tub of Ben and Jerry's with my name on it:)

They Call me Mellow..

2011-01-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

Thinking about colour again a lot today; the new one I have just finished (left) is fine, but I am still of the opinion that my colours are a bit 'clunky'. I am looking to do subtle a bit more on the next one. To this end, I have been compiling a wee scrapbook of images that I find compelling colour-wise, just to inspire and nod me in the right direction when all else fails and I reach for the red oxide again... I do love red oxide, but it has become formulaic in my pictures. Having looked at my choices, I realise that I am actually in love with yellow, but never, ever use it. Weirdo.

The pic I have started now is hopefully going to draw in all kinds of muted shades with a lot of greys, ochres, neutrals... and a couple of pieces of really good strong colour. Will this be a yellow? Oh, and I spent a long time today writing the first meaningful chunk of our business plan; the master plan that will set us on the road to employment freedom and a life of creativity and bloody hard work for ourselves, instead of someone else. If I drank, I would drink to that.

Worry be Gone

2011-01-06T12:41:00.000-08:00

Positively productive

2011-01-05T11:02:00.000-08:00

A perfectly horrible sleety day with icy winds licking the windows; the cats stare at it all disdainfully and curl up in a warm corner. Ideal for what I had in mind; cocooning, hibernating, nesting... spent some quality time cleaning the studio floor and hoovering the sofa before the (nearly, its always nearly) final assault on my first whole painting of the new decade. Aptly it is also my debut on self-stretched canvas, although Stu has already assumed the mantle of canvas 'tech' - priming and stretching the new one like the natural that he is. I'm sure thirty years in kithens has been the perfect preparation for a new life in a workshop; plenty of similarities really, but crucially some omissions. Like heat, pressure and customers in close proximity.

We also set upon the bathroom today; just coming up eight years in the house, which is the longest I have spent anywhere except my childhood home (and not long till I beat that one), and the shower needed a little attention to grout. We have again managed a fine division of labour, with Stu removing and myself re-filling; look forward to finishing the job tomorrow and getting clean again.

Much cheered today by the reaction from my online 'chums' to the new pic; put a jpeg up in its unfinished state and racked up a record number of comments and 'likes'; it is nice to have the illusion of not producing into a void. Now itcing to get on with the next one, which is hanging ready-to-go in the kitchen. Working from a sketch I did called 'the snowcatcher'; she is another angel and worked in a kind of folk-arty way. Watched 'I've loved you so long' last night, an excellent French film bringing a typically great performance from the very lovely Kristen Scott Thomas; love her face so much especially her amazing, deep set eyes. Spent a happy hour drawing from the screen for use as reference in the new painting; 'The Snowcatcher', when she arrives, will be part Scott Thomas, part me and part Leonardo; I like to have a sneaky peak at the latter when I'm portraiting to see what 'he would have done'. No copying, I hasten to add.

But for now, the evening is left to music, food and conversation; it is dark and grimy out and I have no desire to go anywhere anyway.

The ears of the angels

2011-01-04T13:59:00.000-08:00

Are moving...

Bit of a strange one today; battled for much of it in the studio with my painting called 'Vessel' which contains not one but two little angel faces, and for whatever reason (fancy? evolution?) they are more 'true to life' than many of my images. This posed the practical problems of getting the drawing right, and has led to more tweaks than a clowns convention. The ears in question moved, not once but twice, as I realised that their position in relation to other features was just plain wrong. If a moral can be leached out of this whole experience it is to make like the big boys and make sure the drawing is right before setting brush to canvas. End of story.

That said, the latest final version is pleasing to me and also confirmed what I had suspected, which is that potato printing on canvas is not only possible but even more rewarding than on board. Easier too, as the potato kind of adheres to the paint on the canvas, only detaching itself with a satisfying *pop*.

Had to wave bye-bye to my dreams of New York for the present; after initial euphoria upon receiving confirmation from the Amsterdam Whitney gallery that they would like to represent me, reality hit with a *clang*. To take up this kind offer, a fee of 2200 dollars would be required for a years representation with a month long group show in which a ten foot square area of wall is allocated. Add to that the shipping costs and the travel out there - cause lets face it, if you get a show in NYC you're going to want to see the opening - and you are looking at a third of my year's salary. So that's a no then.

Cruised over to Leith to pick up paints from Ritchie in his gallery and check out the lay of the land; still have a crucial red dot on one of my pics so some money will be forthcoming in the not too distant future; seeing in the new year with my painting account in credit - result!

Now, back to those ears....

Watching paint dry

2011-01-03T10:57:00.000-08:00

I love the way things affect how you work, behave; how the things you learn become incorporated into your life. Having watched with fascination the documentary on Peter Howson the other week I have been constantly using his 'mirror check' when painting; I have used this before long ago but forgotten about it. Essentially, viewed in a mirror, your painting suddenly revels all of its errors in drawing in all their horrific glory - 'It's a horrible sight, sometimes', as Howson put it. I find that even taking a photo of the work and looking at it in reproduction works in a similar vein; it removes the image a level from the way you have been viewing it and shows what you can't see in 'reality'. With the picture I've been working on for the last couple of days, this meant a steady crawl from over-hasty, inaccurate drawing to something resembling what I wanted/needed to see.

Howson appeared again the other morning in my mind when I was reading my new charity shop copy of the Taschen book on Hieronymous Bosch (pardon spelling, didn't check); his Christ carrying the cross and another painting both share the wonderful 'direct stare' that Howson gave his St John Ogilvie in the commission for St Andrews Cathedral. One of the reasons I think both are so powerful is that stare, that totally engages the viewer and confronts with the figure observed.

Painting on canvas - 'real' canvas instead of pre-stretched, has been a learning curve and a joy. A challenge, maybe. Spent another few hours today watching it 'eat' paint and relayering on more to build up the depth and colour. Not sure how much of this is due to my ineffectual priming and how much is how 'it should be'; probably a combination of the two, but it is a very satisfying experience. Right now I'm wondering why I have stuck adamently to board for so long, but the answer is probably an unattractive combination of habit and lack of adventure... and stubbornness. The image above is a copy I did of the current stage with colour removed; interesting exercise in seeing how the tones are working; the wonders of computers.

Descent into the Inferno

2011-01-02T10:19:00.001-08:00

Not sure which circle of hell I have stumbled upon today but I bet my bottom dollar I'm in good company..! This is the circle of repainting, where the artist is destined to paint something with which they are reasonably satisfied; walk out the room, return and *bang* the face is wrong. Hold it up to the mirror (if you dare...) and *whap* the neck is wrong too. So is the other face, so is the left hand... The next (in this case) five hours are then spent juggling between mirror and easel, photos taken and examined in various lights and magnifications. Offending portions tweaked, tweaked again, repainted entirely, overpainted, tweaked again.

Problem is that I have a total phobia of tweaked paintings and so the fear sets in at a certain point; 'oh no, that's it, it's never going to work now.' 'Might as well give up, but I've been at it for five hours now, so...' 'One last shot and then its the bucket for this one.'

Not in the bucket yet (the bin, for those who haven't had the pleasure of dwelling in Scotland these last fifteen years) but having a little rest just now to reassess the possibility of actually finishing the thing. Of course its for a show... its the pair to one I have already successfully completed... it started so well... maybe too well... damn that false confidence!

Haven't actually even showered yet, which bodes really badly for the time that I escape the grind of cashdayjob to work for myself; will it all go to pot? Scruffy, dirty 'cat lady' within weeks, shunned on public transport and seen shuffling around parks at night muttering to herself. Seems horribly possible just now.

Chill Start

2011-01-01T08:29:00.000-08:00

Painting on canvas today; canvas that I bought as a piece, not all ready stretched and whitewashed. Lovingly stapled and pulled over a frame, coated and coated again with primer; rough-sketched with a big chunky pencil. Over sketched with a purply-blue because I love when tiny bits of it show through in the end; filled in base colours in blocky areas loving the way the canvas 'gives' and has quirks and bumps to it. Break out the new 'long flat' brush in a whole two sizes bigger than the one I usually use and start to stroke on areas of further tones, not yet on the full colour but kind of dazey hazey gray and blue shades.

Thats where I am right now; hoody and scarf on, snuggled at the easel in the studio; dark already stained the windows black and little street lights all that is showing outside - no movement under them. This is New Years Day and all but the foolhardy jumpers-into-cold-waterers and cold-hill-climby-striderers will be tucked up in gowns on sofas, nursing the slowly melting hangover and wondering if the resolutions start now or whether they can be negociated in the morning.?

Its a good evening for painting; I am playing through the pile of CDs on the top of the player, which are the ones we have bought most recently, prior to putting them away in their correct alphabetical postion. This year we calculate that we may be 40 albums down in our collection due to the budget restraints enforced in the name of survival. Usually we find new band, buy one album; like it - buy the rest. Can get expensive if there is a reasonable sized back catalogue involved.. Hoping that we get to make up some of the backlog in the next year; there's so much out there. Somewhere post lunch and pre-dinner, cats wandering, Stu snoozing, music playing and worries away at least temporarily; new canvas on the easel and a full palette to use up on a freshly started painting; a peaceful place to be.

Break out the Party Poppers

2010-12-31T07:21:00.000-08:00

It's that time again; which in our household nowadays means putting on Slaid Cleaves' 'One Good Year', (the version with the trumpet solo), and settling down to the serious business of being extremely grateful for how much we have gained or salvaged out of the past years. This is the second year in which I will not be serving meals to anyone except myself, Stu and the kits; I swore that my plate-carrying days were over last November and no matter how many days of food retail I am subjected to in the name of survival, I am grateful that this is still the case.

Stu will finish relatively early tonight although the Hogmanay 'perimeter' barriers mean that I will have to drive a circuitous route to rescue him from the woolly-hatted drunken hoards; I would sure hate to be sober in town tonight.

So. Where did I come from in 2010 and how do I end the year?... Last January I had been back from our stint on Arran for a month and a half; still a residual tan from the month in Vietnam but a lot of insecurity and worry for how we would survive the year on a greatly reduced budget with both of us still on only temporary contracts. Shortly after we were both made permanent and so that side of the load was lifted, although we have become very familiar and creative with pasta, curries and the now legendary 'leftover night'.

At the start of the year I had precisely zero shows lined up, but a newly cleared and organised studio and a head full of ideas from the far east and the year on Arran. A chance email kicked off the first show of the year, which took place in Adam House in March, a fundraiser for the Princes Trust. I painted 'live' for the opening, turning out to be the only one who turned up to do it despite quite a few promises; a terrifying experience to start with, but one which I was proud to have achieved. Now it seems commonplace... The next lucky break was entirelly due to the re-finding of an old college friend; the grapevine had let me know that she was still in town and recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I had to act, and after a ten year gap, we were delighted to discover that our friendship had survived as if in hibernation; since then she has beaten her illness and I have been cheered to have her back in my life. On one of our early outings, she showed me a new gallery in her home neighbourhood and I pulled together the courage to approach the painter/owner whose work I remembered from his time as gallery artist at another establishment across town. I was invited to collaborate on a spring show over the Leith Festival, and over the year my involvement has grown to the degree that I now paint in the gallery every Sunday and collaborated again on the winter show; 'Angel Haven' - paintings by myself and gallery owner Ritchie Collins.

Through another connection (my framer, who also displays paintings for me) I had some giclee prints produced to sell in both locations; the printer asked if I would like to publish some of my designs with them, and so I saw my paintings reproduced as cards for sale at the Edinburgh Book Festival.

In the autumn the opportunity arose to be part of a fundraising exercise for the Exhibiting Societies of Scottish Artists; an auction at Lyon and Turnbull. It was a great show and doubtless achveived its aims, but for me the highlight was opening the email flyer and discovering that my painting had been chosen for the advertising. For some reason it is extremely hard to believe that anyone else will think highly enough of your work to use it for anything other than fishwrap, so it is a major boost to find it used in a context such as this. A similar and equally inspiring moment occurred recently when I found one of my paintings in a FB friend's gallery of inspiring artwork; alongside Botticelli. Great moment.

The thing about this list is that it is growing as I write; now I realise that I have omitted the fact that the Marchmont Gallery hung two of my pictures in the summer and made me their 'artist of the month' on the website; the photo of me standing by the gallery window has to be one of my favouite images of the year... long should I remember that feeling. This show was the result of good old fashioned cold calling; turned up at the gallery with some prints hoping to get a look in and was sent away to return with originals; this again meant that I am in the winter show with some of my angels. Having spent the whole summer giving free reign to my winged ones for the Leith show, they spilled over into many small box canvases, which are resident in the Marchmont Gallery (or hopefully going home somewhere else) until the end of January.

Last but by no means least, I am also now showing (and on the website of) the Number Four gallery in St Abbs; a really inspiring selection of work in an amazing setting; taking the work down was one of my top days of the year, for sure. Coincidentally, I was playing the Slaid Cleaves track mentioned at the top of the page as I came across the most amazing view down the coastal cliffs in the dying golden sun. Moments like that stay with you.

Looking at the work from last January and the one before that I can say that I am surpassing my own expectations of what I can produce; I am excited at seeing how far I can push myself in the coming months.

Of course, I could do none of this without the friendship, humour and hard work of my sidekick Stu; I count myself very lucky that I have someone who will suffer my moods and quirks with unflinching support. And make me laugh at myself when I make deadpan pronouncements about my art which I then contradict in the same sentence. And not mind that many things in the house are now covered in paint.

Wishing all my friends, new and old, a very successful and satisfying year in 2011.

Last Legs

2010-12-30T09:43:00.000-08:00

List writing; how relaxing is it... just read someone else's blog intoning us to write a list of everything we have 'shipped' this year. Now I have to confess to slight ignorance with the use of the word; in cashjob it would mean that something had been posted or sent, in 'The Usual Suspects' I took it to mean 'killed', although now I think on it, it could have meant 'dobbed in', 'grassed', 'gave up'. Not sure about that though, my first instinct may, as in many other instances, be the correct one. In the context of the blog, however, I take it to mean 'accomplishments'; projects completed. Had you asked me this one when I was between the ages of eight (or earlier, memory wobbly before then) and 18 you would have received a long, deep breath and a raised eyebrow; finishing things was not my strong suit. I remember coming across one of my numerous self-inflicted illuminated projects; this one was a natural history of Australia. An exercise book had been carefully laid out page by page with the name of an animal or plant at the top of each; under this on 90% of the pages was a big blank space. The pages that I had completed were well meaningly elaborate with descriptions, illustrations, maps and the like, but the resounding message of the piece was of a project abandoned.

I have a recurring dream in which I am at college starting a new term and trying to hide the fact that I have completed no work for the previous one; attempting to sign on for a new course and start again so that the lack of substance from the previous months will go unnoticed. As I am doing it there is a sinking feeling as I acknowledge that there is little likelihood of managing any better this term... I didn't have a great time with education and I am still trying to figure out why, as I love learning; it was school I despised.

I shall carry out this project though; my shippings this year have been quite astounding considering the position I was in at the start of the year and I feel it is time to reflect and take some credit for this. But not yet... the year is on its last legs but not down and out yet. Who knows what will occur to me in its final hours. List time tomorrow, and then we begin again.

To the Apple!

2010-12-29T10:12:00.000-08:00

A blissful day, especially joyful in the knowledge that I am at liberty all next week and so I can sow the seeds and write the lists to get a lot achieved in the first week of the year. Also the run-up to my birthday, which was the optimistic reason for the holiday request; sadly we will not be running off to find snow or sun anywhere further than the Lothian hills and coast for the forseeable future. Many things to be glad of though and so much to look forward to in the new year so I am pretty upbeat.

Sent some images and a 'resume' off to the Amsterdam Whitney gallery in NYC today; they had emailed me requesting that I do so. Normally I am pretty blase about requests like this but I responded to this one as they were not after money as so many are, and because it fits scarily well into my own personal little life story at the present time. We have been toying with visiting Amsterdam because random people keep telling me reasons why I should go (and also because I love Schipol Airport) and I am trying to get to New York to visit a wee pal who I have recently regained contact with thanks to the wonder of Facebook. (pictured, in the Guggenheim, filming something) So... this all falls into the song lyrics, as it were. May well be a cul-de-sac but all will be revealed in the fullness of time. Having discovered how much I can achieve from so little in 2010 I am aiming for the stars in 2011; from dust to the stars...

Also became stupidly excited today upon purchasing and stretching my first canvas; having established that the process of mounting canvas on board to facilitate printing is pretty easy, I was left with a spare stretcher on which to mount some new canvas for painting. Turns out a lot cheaper too, as I had imagined, and now I have enough for two more big paintings and a few wee ones... of course I have run out of primer, but that's just a little thing and I can pick up more tomorrow. Naturally, Twig the kit decided that a sheaf of fresh canvas was a new bed and now it is a little on the hairy side, but at least she didn't do the claw sharpening thing on it. Yet. Must stash the leftover piece somewhere Twig-proof; half the house is now in various drawers, cupboards, the bathroom...ah, the things we do for love.

The lack of primer means that my hands are tied just now for starting a new one, but there are postcards to be pasted into a new book, sketches to be sketched, half a chapter of book to finish before I am onto Hemingway (for the first time!) and numerous computer related opportunities to follow up with regards to art communication and marketing. Never a dull moment.

And... still got a Crunchie left from the Christmas selection box! Bet its half size though.

Winter Slusherland

2010-12-28T07:02:00.001-08:00

Started for work in the dark; reached work in the dark. Parked in the dark; on a ticket space... last traffic related expense of the year - I hope. Funnily enough, last year I managed a speeding fine while driving through the deserted early morning villages in the Cotswolds on Boxing day. You know the ones, where the speed limit changes fifteen times on a four mile stretch of road and you could reconstruct the Forth Rail Bridge with all the metal used for the warning signs for heaven only knows what. So this year it was parking instead; another fine way to spend the Christmas cheque from Stu's mum that just cleared into the bank account. Next year I should really go for something a little heftier; a spell of festive vandalism or good old fashioned armed robbery. Lets get a real fine.

Bizarrely I am in such an optimistic and jolly mood despite this dampener. The way I see it, it is all just numbers on paper anyway; just movin' them around a little. Did write a rather dark Haiku on the way to work though; but it was dark and dingy:

The snow has broken

All the Christmas tree branches

And melted to slush.

I guess its not the time to announce that I miss the snow, but they were good times tramping to work and back in wellies in the mysterious snowlight whistling to myself and looking forward to the re-warming back home. Must make it up to Lappland one of these years, but absolutely not on a mini tour taking in the reindeer farm and Santa's elves; needs to be the real deal.

A whole evening stretches out before me courtesy of the piddling hours I am working in dayjobworld this week so I shall make the most of it in valuable research and painting work. Could sure get used to this in an ideal world where money was a dim and distant memory of number shuffling.

The Next Best Thing

2010-12-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

Little bit of a dilemma tonight as I realise that the pic on my blog's front page is 'advertising' Angels for Christmas. Do I just go with the shops and start advertising for Easter? Think I will simply add a reminder that the Number Four gallery in St Abbs has extended its Christmas/winter show until the end of January due to the fact that pretty much no-one got to see it as the gallery was embedded in a wall of snow.

Back to the dayjob with a mix of feelings today; partly a heavy heart after a couple of days reminding myself what life could be like in an ideal world when Stu and I actually see each other when awake and get to play with creative stuff... Partly feeling very optimistic that this will soon be the case; I have long given up trying to predict the ways of the world so can only keep bashing away.

Got around to lots of drawing and idea spinning over the two days of Christmas and enjoyed having someone to bounce things off; plenty studio time too with waiter service tea and chocolates. Could definately get used to this, especially if a beach was outside the window and the temperature was in the eighties... getting ahead of myself now, but I can dream. Settle for less if I have to..

The painting I have been working on is now complete after a very exuberant days painting yesterday and a late burst of surrealism; I had a feeling that show (at the Dean Gallery last week) would come out in some way or other. The original sketch is of an angel 'bust' sitting atop a table with another small angel beside it. As it progressed the angel came to life and so her cropped body looked more interesting/odd as it has progressed. Now the hands are on and she is left armless it is slightly stranger still; comic when I started this month convinced that I would have to start painting something more 'commercial' and more likely to sell. Fat chance; it just doesn't work that way.

This is the first time I have done a canvas of any size (as opposed to board) and already I am in love with the 'boingy' nature of the surface and the bobbly texture; both characteristics which I have previously quoted as to why I don't like working on canvas. Contrary is many an artists' middle name... The only thing I had to alter in the end was the fact that I wanted to potato print on it and frame it as I have the paintings on board, so tonight I cut it off the stretcher and PVAd it to a board for the final bits and pieces of pattern and varnishing. This definately falls into the category of things that I will only allow myself to do; Stu won't cut the boards for me once I have finished a painting so if I need to trim up with a saw or a Stanley that is always my job; that way if I go wrong and cut right through something crucial it is no-one's fault but my own. Has a way of focusing the mind, that. Thus the task of Stanley-ing a canvas and sticking it to a piece of wood was automatically my territory; went fine though, despite Twig's attempts to stick herself or some of her hair to the board along with the canvas.

Hoping to get this one framed up and put it in for the SSA open show; my submissions have been consistently unsuccessful for three or four years now so my hopes are somewhat limited; however, I am pleased with this piece so in it goes. As I have commented before, the last painting I have done is always my favourite, and for a few weeks I am always content that I have at last progressed in some major way. Then in week four I look at it suddenly with fresh eyes and I know that it is back to the easel again in search of the next great thing. I've liked this one for a while now, though, so maybe I am onto something at last; catch me next week and see how I feel...

Now. I am sure there are still chocolates in the house and it is my duty to finish them all as quickly as possible so as to remove the temptation from my kitchen. And we all know that chocolate consumed fast within two days of Christmas doesn't count. Or contain calories.

Five years

2010-12-26T09:36:00.000-08:00

Celebrating five years since I quit the booze; a meaningful anniversary for me. Spent a large part of the day painting and the rest being happy and relaxing with Stu. Here's what I'm painting; titled 'Les Anges, les etoiles et la neige'.

Oh little town

2010-12-25T10:19:00.001-08:00

A very merry Christmas with no shadow of Humbug. Chocolate eating, cat cuddling, beach walking, magazine browsing, chatting and laughing, singing in the kitchen. Now its time for dinner and a movie. Bon Noel.

The sky is quite green

At least in its reflection

In the beach puddles

A dog chases sticks:

The tea flask is warm despite

A foggy sea chill

The ducks fly over

Grazing the mist that wanders

Delicately close

Light dawns the Eve

2010-12-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

I will be interested at the close of the year's blogging to see if there is an easily identified pattern for my plunges into despair and subsequent re-emerging into the daylight. Yesterday I was in a dark mood which filled me from crown to toes with a kind of dark lethargy; the feeling that you get when the best thing seems to be to lie down and sink into the earth. I am not a natural when it comes to social interaction with large groups and the politics that exist in the world of the dayjob often conspire to leave me feeling a little like I did at school; outside the norm. But that was yesterday, and that is what fascinates me about how a mood can switch and lighten with the turn of the dawn.. It was with heavy heart that I set out into another snowy morning to work the full day of Christmas Eve, already cynical of the festive season and finding it hard to believe that I could pick up my spirits before the treasured two days of freedom. But lo! A host of angels must have finally found me and alighted on my shoulders, for the day turned gradually rosy as the hours ticked by and I found myself surrounded by smiling faces instead of the feared Grinches. As a final moral to my tale, the part at the end when the lead character realises the error of her selfish thoughts and takes stock of all the luck in her life... a lovely but very drunk lady appeared and asked to be assisted with her shopping. During the course of the store tour it became apparent that the lady had a mother who was terminally ill and this was the last Christmas meal she would prepare for her. So there I am; suddenly the angel on a stranger's shoulder myself, offering what words and help that I could; watching the tears fall and counting myself lucky that I have all that I do. The perfect 'shake-by-the-shoulders to send me home to call my mum, cuddle the cats and start another painting; play some great music loud, cook dinner, sing in the kitchen and hope lots of love wings its way to sad people everywhere.

Humbug Shmumbug

2010-12-23T10:11:00.000-08:00

Absolutely should not be blogging tonight; if there is one thing I cannot bear it is negativity but the day has left me brimming with it. Faith in human race gradually being eroded by evidence of materialistic, selfish, spoilt-child mentality in relation to a festival that means nothing to most except excuse to waste obscene amounts of money and then moan about it. Feeling extremely glad not to have to take part in any such excessive spending, eating or moaning myself; looking forward to a pleasant couple of days away from everyone with loved one and cats trying to re-establish normal sunny nature. Off to studio to play bouncy music and paint happy things.

Desperately seeking positivity

2010-12-21T11:54:00.000-08:00

I cannot help but feel a little despondant with the news today that the Number Four gallery in St Abbs has been effectively out of action for all but one weekend of the month's winter exhibition. With Edinburgh also affected it has meant that my excitement at being in three galleries for Christmas has evaporated a lot quicker than the pesky snow. Having spent so much time preparing for the shows and, being me, worrying about them, it is sad to realised that far fewer people will have seen my work and of course, had the opportunity to buy it.

Sales wise, very disappointing it has to be said. Still no word of the mysterious buyer from Ritchie's gallery in Leith who may or may not be returning for one that she reserved. It is hard to remind myself that there is another reason for the lack of returns on my invested time; my usual paranoia starts to kick in and doubt that I will ever succeed in my aims.

Trying hard to focus on the true and undeniable fact that we are tantalisingly close to finishing payments on the hefty great loan that has left us a little financially challenged this year; the final months of the experience are close at hand and after that we can look forward to breathing a little easier and having less near-overdraft experiences. Maybe a little less pasta for dinner as well, but I have become strangely attached to it..

Line in the sand coming up again though; the year of blogging is about to enter a new phase as we start thinking about what comes next and how we can move on into the opening chapter.

Meanwhile I try to stay focused, remind myself that lack of sales does not equate to lack of success, especially when galleries are snowbound, and start to create new opportunities and build on what I have achieved this year so far. Which is actually pretty impressive really.

Notes and Scribbles

2010-12-20T10:40:00.001-08:00

The joy of a slow start in cashdayjob; managed a near full half hour of sitting scribbling ideas for the constantly evolving piece I am maybe-sort-of doing involving nine little box canvases. I am trying to build on the momentum I had when producing loads of little angel paintings for the various galleries' winter shows; however I feel that the pace I was working at was part of the reason that everything came out so effortlessly. Sometimes when I think/agonise most I produce least - or less of quality anyway.. Knocked out a great wee angel last night while talking to Stu and watching him cook tea; always a favourite time and one I have never thought to utilise in painting. Logistically less easy due to sitting on a 'Workmate' in the kitchen with a palette and a canvas balanced on knees but it, again, stops me stressing or over-thinking.

The wee one was a little more 'dark' than the Christmas angels and I seem to be harking back to an idea I had and never followed up a couple of months ago; the slightly dodgy, dirty and dishevelled world of the fairies, which was envisaged after reading the title of a book concerning the 'underworld' of Edinburgh in Robert Louis Stevenson's day: 'Lamplit, Viscious Fairyland'.

Duck-egg and newsprint dresses, frizzy hair of uncertain hue, aged Geisha make-up, cold-pinched cheeks, tissue snowflakes and lots of murky greys and umbers... silver wings and heart-shaped faces.. The dilemma is always whether to blog about these things in order to make them more concrete or record the results of my ideas. So many end up coming to nothing due to time, my ever changing mind or another idea butting in on the original one. Little angels all clamouring 'Me! Me! Meee!' in my head. Hmmm. Definately time to head studio-wards. The year is on its last legs; maybe these are the last angels of this little cycle?

Life in the Freezer

2010-12-19T09:57:00.000-08:00

Having read the great book 'The worst journey in the world' by Apsley Cherry Garrard about his epic and terrifying journey to find the Emperor penguins' nesting site, I can never feel that I can join the chorus of 'oh its so cold' and 'this is a nightmare' (if I here that one particular phrase one more time I may snap). But it was with a heavy heart that I opened the curtains this morning to the floaty white stuff again on the very morning that I was scheduled to take Stu's mother to the airport for her month in Essex, which she has been looking forward to and planning for lordy knows how long. As a small trial run I took Stu into work at seven thirty (on a luxurious four and a half hours sleep) which was successful and raised the optimism levels as by that time the snow was slowing even if the grit was noticable by its absence... again..

Settled down for a quick snooze and was rudely awakened - two hours later- by the mother-in-law grinding at the bit to get going; by now the snow was coming down in shovels and reticent is not the word. Managed to 'ground' the car on a buried pile of ice chunks on the first leg of the journey and had to dig myself out, although it was less the digging and more the ability to drive sideways that saved me from falling at the first hurdle. Airport duly reached via a single lane bypass with bugger-all visibility and my guilt at leaving a small elderly person at an airport in the snow on her own (at her insistence, I hasten to add) left me and a brief euphoria washed over. All I had to do was get home and that's me finished for the Festive season; I can walk to work, walk back and get food as and when it is needed. We need no wine, turkey or crackers and I am not feeding the five thousand on crazy produce only even eaten at this time of year, so the store cupboards will suffice.

Scared the living heebie jeebies out of myself on the laborious journey, spent trying to come up with a route through Edinburgh not involving hills (doesn't exist, trust me); overtaking an abandoned bus on the hill of choice I managed a nifty 180 turn, ending up facing the bemused driver behind me. I thank the lucky stars he was a good way back and I thank a few constellations that my beloved car then proceeded to perform a perfect three-point turn as if nothing had happened. Realised a few hundred yards down the road that I was driving with my hand over my mouth in the horror of what could have been. Car is now firmly parked and the wellies are back in action. Good to know what its like out there on those days when the forecasters tell you to stay at home unless in emergency, or in need of removing a mother-in-law to the other end of the country for a month.

Spent the rest of the afternoon in cameraderie with the rest of our little cul-de-sac clearing the street of snow, only to see it start up again just as we were leaning on our shovels thinking proud thoughts... So to the studio and another little angel has popped into life for the piece involving many small box canvases. Two down, seven to go.

I'm now dreaming of a white Christmas with all worries dissolved. Bring it on.

Quiet corridors

2010-12-18T13:13:00.000-08:00

Long debate before setting out this morning to meet a friend at the Dean Gallery for the Surrealists show; drive or bus? The snow has let up, the weather is bitter but settled and it is the last weekend before Christmas. Driving into town would be lunacy (more on that word later) wouldn't it...? Decided on the bus and foot; stop-started painfully slowly across town among packed shoppers, trod the frozen pavements down the New Town to Dean Bridge, where before me laid out in silent rows were the biggest number of parking spaces ever observed in the city centre. Mental note; last weekend before Christmas = shops full, galleries empty.

This of course meant that we had a fantastically quiet view of the show - could almost have been a genuinely private view; I was occasionally surprised when I stepped back onto someone's toe, but the halls were blissfully silent apart from our own commentary. I have been meaning to see the show for months but luckily it had a long run; I have often dismissed the surrealists and never quite figured out why. Overexposure to 'The Persistence of memory' in reproduction on mouse mats and mugs? Worrying similarities to fantasy art? Just too damn clever for its own good? All considered but none rings entirely true; truth is I am not that familiar with all aspects of the 'genre' and wanted to see more. The internet helped me discover that Max Ernst was someone I wanted to see more of but did nothing for my affection for Salvador Dali; the show has pretty much confirmed that to be honest, but added many new names to the list of those I would like to see more of. Also fascinated by the British Surrealists, who seem a bit derivative, but still plenty to look at and wonder about. Edith Rimington, Emmy Bridgewater and Roland Penrose, who I keep bumping into in different contexts and get mightily confused about. Of the continental group I found the most interest in Max Ernst, Paul Delvaux (who I jokingly said painted a bit like me) and De Chirico; all of them essentially new to my eyes and all the more interesting for it. Some lovely drawings and smaller studies by all three.

Dali did get a look-in for me with his 'Exploding Raphaelesque Head' which is not one I had seen at Athena and so held the crucial trump card of novelty and was also very beautiful.

Reading the art mag in the very convivial teashop I found a reference to Ana Maria Pacheco, who I must look up as I am pretty sure that she was the head of Fine Art at Norwich School of Art when I was on foundation. Looks like some fantastic wooden sculptural figurative work she has been producing which struck me as like a 3d Paula Rego. Very strong.

Leaving to wander over to Stockbridge, peruse small galleries and shops and catch up on the last few months, we were treated to a stunning, frozen view over the Water of Leith and the Dean village lit by Venus and some early stars in crystal clear light. The moon is just a shade off full, which explains Twig's dementia over the last two nights. She is a lunatic - and it was only today on the prompt of my friend that I realised the root of the word...

Early hours

2010-12-17T16:00:00.000-08:00

We are having a small war with Twig the kit who has decided that we are no longer allowed to sleep after six am; to be honest I think I have been suffering gradual sleep deprivation for the past year and a half since the little sweetheart tottered into our lives.. I am an eight-hour-a-day girl; no Maggie Thatcher measures for me. Without it I tend to become grumpy and disoriented; focus leaves me and my eyes begin to resemble the star of an early vampire movie.

We were introduced to Twig on Arran last year; having offered to run a friend's seafood restaurant in the wilds for the summer season we were ready for the unexpected, but a small kitten entering our lives and wrecking our sleep patterns had not been factored in. Some of the tunes I used to play at night in an attempt to lull her to sleep and deter her from homicidal attacks on my fingers are forever linked in my mind to these times...Her current restlessness takes a similar pattern of whining and playing with electrical items in an attempt to rouse me, and feeding is useless; it is not food she desires but attention and, preferably, an earlier dawn. I am still trying to explain to her that the latter problem is outwith my control.

Sooo... today I was tired and fractious from the outset, but to be honest I am sometimes amazed at my own resilience and my mood lightened by lunchtime until I was back in the world of happy smiley customer service. Maybe it had something to do with the imminent two day break from the Christmas shoppers; off tomorrow to see the Surrealists show at the Dean Gallery and painting on Sunday. As we near the close of another year I am optimistic that this will soon become normality.

Small flashes in darkness

2010-12-16T12:00:00.000-08:00

Funny; couldn't think of anything to write about today so I was casually browsing the Facebook albums of people who paint, sculpt or appreciate art and stumbled upon the album of a lovely lady in the US called Ellen who I always find has a fascinating quote or painting to offer for every moment. Looking through some great pictures, tending towards romantic figurative but also surrealist, modernist etc and suddenly I find myself looking at one of mine! Feeling so humbled and honoured as I realise how painting can creep happily into other people's lives and dwell there. The internet has made so much possible in terms of connection and appreciation. Sometimes I feel cynical and wonder if it will destroy itself in its own creative power; so many artists out there crying for attention and space... but this is really such a postive thing. I would have had no chance twenty years ago to be having a conversation with an artist halfway across the world and having my work seen all over it by countless people; it is a truly remarkable turn of events. I always wonder what the past generations of artists would have made of it... I feel sure they would have embraced the chance to reach out across the globe, it is innate in us to have that urge I think. There are few artists who do not desire to be seen, for their work to be admired. We may fear it, shy away from it or positively avoid it, but the desire is there all the same. I am pretty sure that I am not the only person who feels the need to paste their life to the wall but fear the reaction; wants to show the world what I have created, but feels daunted by the comparison to others. At the end of the day we are all unique and we all have our little space in the universe; not so much fifteen minutes of fame as a series of tiny flashes, like a strobe light in the dark.

Crazy dinner blowout

2010-12-15T12:09:00.000-08:00

I rebelled tonight and bought some expensive foodstuffs for dinner; having blogged the other day on dinners that I have been missing due to our budget constraints I decided to throw caution to the wind and have a treat. Made a kick-ass avocado, prawn and cottage cheese salad; the purist version which we first encountered in Thailand has no prawns, but they are a worthy and decadent addition. Needs to be made a few hours ahead and 'wallowed' (marinated) at room temperature for best effect. Take one bowl and in in mix: a couple of very ripe avocadoes, chopped, a tub of cottage cheese, a big handful of chopped chives, couple of garlic cloves and a small onion (chopped fine), some fresh herbs or herb oil as desired, chopped fresh chillies to taste (so in our case a small shedload), juice of a lime, dash of toasted sesame oil, fish sauce- again to taste, but lots. Eat ambient with rice, and add prawns if the decadent budget-busting mood takes you. Looking forward to this later. Lots.

Did my civic duty this evening as well and purchased online the Biffy Clyro version of 'Many of Horror', the excellently titled original of the renamed-for-karaoke X-factor person song. I already own the Biffy album, but like I say, duty... It is deeply depressing knowing that vast sections of the country get excited about and buy into a cynically money-grabbing, vacuous karaoke contest. Can only feel sorry for the people who take part as they must be chewed-up and spat-out brainwashed mush by the end of the year.

Had a paint delivery yesterday and now discover that Ritchie from the gallery has also bought me the contents of a paint list I left with him and immediately forgot about, so it is paint central in the studio now. One excellent reason why I am forging on tonight against the tiredness and hoping to complete at least one of the nine angels which are to make up the piece now known as 'Nine Lives'. Based on the multiple wee angels I painted for various galleries and Christmas presents, it is kind of the culmination of this train of thought; I love the way they all look together and want to create that in a single piece made of many smaller works. Fun too.

Starts and thinks

2010-12-14T12:59:00.000-08:00

Nothing, nothing nothing to report. One of those days when I felt that I was marking time and worried about the fact; worried about some other stuff but not in a major league way and thought about some new paintings. Feeling pretty cheery but nothing out of routine.

Leftover night for dinner, so a strange and wonderful concoction of the last weeks meals rolled in a seedy wrap, accompanied by some fragments of films. A fragmented day in general.

Started the new piece I have been pondering, which is really the culmination of the little angel box canvases and consists of nine angels which I want to mount and frame as a single piece like an angel yearbook, identification chart, or museum. Still thinking about but not finishing the big(ger) canvas called 'Les anges, les etoiles et la neige' which popped from head to sketch book on the night of the opening at Ritchie's gallery. A new chapter is definately opening and even that night seems very long ago.

A little help from my friends?

2010-12-13T12:55:00.000-08:00

Woh, flipped two hundred posts yesterday without even noticing! Slaps on back for me...

Writing tonight as a curry 'reduces' - randomly poured too much liquid in and at present I have soup... but it will be tasty when it is a little smaller. Spent some time today remembering meals we used to eat before the budget measures were introduced; entertained myself for a while in workland adding up virtual shopping bills for meals that are currently beyond my spending power, and it is quite scary really. Pad Thai; once a staple dinner - would have needed noodles, prawns, nuts, lime, green beans, some coconut milk, chillies... *uh-uh*... my favourite avocado and cottage cheese salad - chillies again, cottage cheese, avocadoes, limes, coriander...*uh-uh*. Don't even get me thinking about anything including steak! Pomelo and smoked chicken salad!! ARgh! One thing I know for sure; I will have some serious cooking blowouts in the new year at some point. The best thing, for there is always a best thing, is that deprivation sure does focus your appreciation of a foodstuff: I sneakily treated myself to a £1 tub of pineapple and just ate a piece. Woh. That. Was. Good. Not, it has to be said, as cheap as the whole pineapple we devoured on a boat in the floating market at Can Tho in Vietnam, nor quite as welcome as the chunks on skewers in Bangkok after a particularly arduous and circuitous walk to Wat Arun; but pretty damn good. Food memories are always the best as well... some things can transport you as sure as being there, which can of course be bitter sweet if you are not, but it is a powerful thing.

Staying with the budget note, which is relevant in the run up to Christmas more than any other time, I scored a mighty bargain today. If I were a believer in such things I might feel that the hand of fate rested lightly on my shoulder at lunchtime; I do try very hard not to believe in it as I am innately practical and realist, but it sure does get spooky sometimes... Stu is in need of boots for work and reticent to spend the money that these things cost, especially as he is hoping above all that he is nearing the end of his kitchen career and the things may soon be redundant. Sadly, his DMs are on their last legs and have holey soles, so the need is great. In his wisdom, he suggests that I try my favorite occupation, the charity shop crawl. Off I goes at lunch time and in my first and favourite shop (Shelter in Morningside) I find a pair of size ten Timberlands. This is after Stu commented that 'boots rather than shoes would be best, and about a tenner.' They cost a tenner. He is a size ten. There were no other mens shoes for sale.

I had to try really, really hard not to look for angels on the way back down the hill; I bet they were up there on top of the tenement, snickering...

Cosy painting paws

2010-12-12T10:18:00.000-08:00

Pinching a quote from Alec Downie, a FB friend:

'Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul'

Edvard Munch.

This really does it for me; I spend many circular conversations with my mum trying to explain why I paint things out of my head that make no sense in financial or logical terms or (often) any other way, instead of painting the view from my window. I am always happy to find a confirmation that I am not alone or deluded. Visited the craft and design fair at the Assembly Rooms today and found more interesting makers and artists; one I was already in contact with in cyberspace and another who I have served in cashdayjob and didn't realise was a maker of very good decorative and practical fabric bags. It always gives me a lift to meet and talk to new contacts in the art and design world, it really is a different place to inhabit and we all share the same worries, concerns, enthusiasms.. at the end of the day most 'creatives' have a lot of mutual ground. Beginning to have hope that next year will see the final move away from being tied to another form of income; the problem is in making the leap, but I know that the more time I have, the stronger the likelihood that I will be successful. I could fanny about for another decade trying to fit my painting in around hours spent making money in a very inefficient way, or.... I can jump. At least there are two of us, and Stu is just itching to get on with his framing now; I am beginning to see the benefits of a chef/framer; I may have to hire him out to the artistic community by the hour..

The rest of the day was spent in Ritchie's gallery, where sadly business was not as brisk as I had hoped - most people out and about seemed to be in town or having long brunches in the various eating establishments in Leith. Don't blame the latter section, it had to be said; Princes St and George Street were a horror to behold on my way back.

Besides getting on very well with the big canvas I am working on (not huge, just the biggest to date and a lot larger than the wee angels I have been involved with) I also spent some quality time perusing Ritchie's 'Taschen' book of portraits. Leonardo, Durer, Raphael... yikes, they could draw! I know that's stating the bleedin' obvious but it is always good to have a look at some pictures with 'fresh eyes' and I was in the mood for learning today. A new and welcome addition from the craft fair was my new long fingerless gloves which provide maximum draught exclusion from cuff while allowing fingers free for painting. No more freezy fingers! Took Stu in to work at half seven this morning so I am in need of an early night... may manage some more painting during the week, fingers crossed.

Weeping woman

2010-12-11T11:02:00.000-08:00

A theme developing. Posted yesterday on my tendency to express emotion when listening to music (I'm a blubber- movies too) and found to my initial delight a column in one of today's weekend papers which seemed to echo uncannily my admission. Sadly can't remember the writer's name or indeed which paper I was reading, (in dayjob dining room) but her initial confession matched my own; a dread of the 'festive' season for fear of being caught blubbing to carols.. So far so good; me thinking that I am not as sad as I had feared and may share my malady with a national newspaper journalist.. but no. Her tendency, she went on to explain, stemmed from the sentiment of watching the children perform in their tinsel-topped nativities and carol concerts; the proud parent brimming over at their prodgeny. Right, so I don't have any children, so we no longer have this in common and I am looking sadder by the minute. Try as I might I can find no reason for my sadness around beauty, for that is what moves me; ask Stu about the embarrassing incident in the Florence Duomo when I had an emotional reaction to the roof, or the time in the Musee Picasso when Dora Maar's tears became contagious... I no longer seem to cry much in the day to day structure of life, but give me a good piece of music, a painting that moves me or a film that for some unknown reason reaches this part of my psyche and away I go. I hasten to add that quality of plot, acting or direction have no bearing on this; I watched the movie 'Australia' for my birthday a couple of years ago and found it fatally flawed, but still needed a second tissue for the overblown sentimental climax.

Issues of tears reared their ugly head again today, as if to provide a flip side to the study; a random verbal attack by an angry customer left me blinking back tears of... what? Anger, mostly, that so many people will go for the quick fix when they are slighted or annoyed and shift the blame by venting their feelings on an inappropriate target. To show superiority? Importance? People are very spoiled. One of the facets of Buddhism I love but find very hard in reality is to 'let to'.. of negativity, bad experiences, grudges, niggles that keep coming back to my mind. I suppose at least I am aware of the fact; just need more practise. Not that this means I want frustrated, spoilt women to make me feel small on a regular basis....

Time to retreat to the studio and think of the many words of support and appreciation that I have been lucky enough to attract in the last year. And kick some painting ass.

Lessons and Carols

2010-12-10T14:11:00.000-08:00

Since pondering some of David Bowie's lyrics the other night, not for the first time, I have been on a Bowie-fest... replaying and reliving some of his finest moments. Gutted that I don't have 'Scary Monsters' and don't fancy ordering anything on Amazon right now when the extreme-ly crap postal service have failed to deliver on all but two days since the extreme-ly snowy and white snow fell upon us all. Making do, however, making do... plenty to chose from after all. I always quote 'Sweet thing/Candidate/Sweet thing' as my favourite song ever ever and that is since secondary school; think its still up there too.

The snow has slowly melted into brown sludge and disappointing gritty patties beside the roads over the course of the day; I still managed a few nifty wheelspins this morning but it wouldn't be the same without them now. Managed to drive to work at last and purchase my tax disc with the help of breathing exercises and meditation in the post office queue; our local one must be award winning for its incompetence and has never knowingly had more than three windows open - ever, ever, ever. Queues regularly snake outside the door, grumbling and shuffling; toddlers whining and abusing the stretchy barriers. The manager is one of the most terrified and misplaced individuals I have come across and someone really needs to take him aside and suggest a transfer to a nice quiet garden centre or conservatory sales office.

Made it in though, only to become seriously overfed with the staff Christmas lunch, which was delightful and cheery (and free) but made me wish myself anywhere else for the rest of the day as I struggled to a) stay awake, b) not scare people with scary stomach noises, c) not blind passers-by with buttons pinging off my straining clothing. Truly a day of gargantuan proportions. Light relief came late with entertainment in the form of a teenage choral group who serenaded the last two hours of my shift with a selection of numbers from 'Carols for Choirs' or a similar publication. I am the product of a CofE school education and a choir member for the duration of it, so the hymns of the festive season are burned in living holly on my soul. Word perfect and pretty good on many of the harmonies to boot; it was very, very hard not to dispense with caution and all good sense and tag on the end of the line. One very good reason not to do this, and this is a brave confession; I am a total sap and will shed a tear at many a favourite tune; Christmas carols included. Joan Armatrading was a three tissue gig and I really excelled myself by not just sniffling gently to myself but having a full on cheek waterfall moment...('The Weakness in me).

Now I have some drawing to do as besides bringing out my inner sentimental side, the carol singing brought back the angels and I have some great little faces in my head. Planning a big piece involving nine mini-canvases mounted together in a kind of 'angel yearbook'. I loved doing the little ones for the galleries so much that this will be a dream project and I will be able to give each little one a lot more time and attention. Can't wait to get back in my painting rhythm again..

Positivity found

2010-12-09T13:45:00.000-08:00

Amongst the tedium of my often depressing working day in cashdayjob I often find moments, and occasionally entire days, which stand out as beacons of positive thought. This was one of those rare days. Read a great blog entry this morning, which I have now lost, that spoke of 'platforms'; using a mundane job or a bad situation as a base from which to climb to another level. I have posted about this before and quote (or maybe paraphrase) again the Alanis Morrisette line "You gave me a platform from which to jump beyond myself". I keep coming back to this and was so inspired to hear someone else write on the exact subject; reminds me of a friend in New York who is an actress waiting tables and myself in Edinburgh, an artist specialising in food retail. The world is full of those who try to take positive elements from the jobs they are forced to do in order to pay the bills. Today was perkier than usual for me because I had the imminent sale of a painting to jolly me along; it was reserved yesterday in Ritchie's gallery, and I was also entertaining myself attempting to come up with a name for a potential business venture. Hours of fun in that one and I have enough potential titles for a lifetime, or a few LPs worth of songs. Still to beat my new favourite, rediscovered while listening to Bowie last night; from the first line of "Eight Line Poem" - 'Tactful Cactus'. Funnily enough, there is a film production company in London called.. Tactful Cactus. Someone else was bound to get there first, its just so good. I would also, of course, like to retain my originality without resorting to hero worship or plagarism; so that kind of makes the going a little tougher as there are a lot of clever wordsmiths out there. Luckily, there are also a lot of words...

This evening I tootled off to the Marchmont Gallery in my finally mobile and MOTd car; the fact that Marchmont resembles the Arctic Circle was a minor drawback, but I managed to secure a space after a very spinney three-point-turn and a very close encounter with a wheelie bin. Its a great little gallery and does that thing really well where there are loads of little interesting bits and pieces as well as paintings and ceramics, so it is all too easy to find yourself leaving lighter of purse. I was adament not to squander the money I had saved on a slightly-less-than-expected car repair bill, but I ended up coming home with a tell-tale bubble wrap package of embossed ceramic tree ornaments. They are now on my wall as they are far too cool to be limited to December and I can't have a tree anyway due to the destructive/playful instincts of Twig the kit. My angels looked great in a few locations around the gallery and I felt positively proud for once, my usual self criticism deserting me briefly... a warm glow on another freezy night.

Routine disruption

2010-12-08T13:24:00.000-08:00

Phew, that was close; amazing what a day off can do to your sense of routine... nearly went to sleep before posting. Spent a lot of the day on business ideas and just trawling words for ideas; thesaurus, translations, Bowie lyrics ('tactful cactus' - genius), reading Kirsty Gunn for her wonderful repertoire of words. Also went for a walk in the snow for recreation despite having walked to work all week in it; saw bobble trees and ice crystals, tiny ice floats in the stream and minimal tracks, minimal life of any kind. Is everyone inside watching TV, playing Nintendo or whatever it is they play nowadays? Posted my minimal Christmas presents and hoped that it sets a precedent for years to come; not needing any more crap to pass on to the charity shops.

Looks like a painting has sold from the Angel Haven show; cross all fingers and toes. It is reserved just now, so I am hopeful that this will bring my painting account back to the black.

Car in for service and MOT tomorrow, snow willing, and the Marchmont Gallery opening in the evening, in the snow, on foot. Hoping for mince pies.

Icy stares

2010-12-07T10:51:00.000-08:00

I keep meaning to leave the crazy wintry conditions alone but it impinges on my life so much at the moment that I can't help myself. For starters, it has awoken the demon in me that thinks it is acceptable to eat half a Soreen malt loaf in one sitting if one has the excuse of harsh walking conditions. Secondly, I am annoyed with our little Siberian season for distracting so many people from the gainful occupation of gallery shopping, thus probably depriving me of sales and publicity in the crucial pre-Christmas period. Stop looking at the snow! Get over it and go into nice warm galleries!! YOu NEED my paintings for your loved ones this Festive season.

That felt better. Pointless, but better.

I have taken to standing and having a bit of a stare at the burn (small river) out the back of the house; the hills beyond and the sky above that. Tonight Venus was shining away insanely brightly and the whole area was darker due to the clear sky; weird how the cloud is both warming and lighting - without it the air is almost painfully cold tonight and the city much darker. 'The woods are very dark and deep and we have miles to go before we sleep...'

Meant to comment yesterday when I was rambling about the lovely ivy-clad poplars; it is now that I need a proper medium-format or plate camera to set up in the wilds and just open the shutter for a few minutes at night; I just know that the digitals, for all their cleverness, couldn't capture the light like the old boys. The light is so fragile and delicate, the hues so subtle and shifting. I do miss the 'old' ways of photography as I first learned it; developing myself and enlarging in the bathroom cupboard, messing with exposures, photocopying negatives and printing obsessively over and over until I had the image I was hunting... Don't get me wrong, I'm loving digital for a whole raft of reasons too but I loved the craft and the dirty-handedness of black and white.

Day off from any form of money-making activity tomorrow so am intending to turn my sights to considering the next year and the potential creation of our own business; it is daunting but mind numbingly exciting at the same time. I have a huge big fat pile of ideas and notes but I have also got to look at all the practical stuff, which is my job now. Without the boring bit out the way I will never get to play...the time is now - the weather is on my side to hole up and bury my head, so lets get the show on the road. What to call it is my other dilemma; I had a name in my head for months which is now ringing doubts; back to the drawing board or go with the instinct? It came to me in a dream and that is nearly always good enough reason for me to do anything..

Oh, and a tree stole my hat this morning; pacing along minding my own business and watching my icy footfalls and 'whoosh'!! Hat suddenly ten feet back down the pavement... a wily twig had hooked and twanged it away from me in an instant of devilishness!

You need to watch those trees....

Silently moves the fog

2010-12-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

Aha; a new element has arrived to join the snow. Fog. If it was still and contemplative walking home along the burn before, it was stiller and more contemplative tonight... there is nothing like forgetting you are in a city when you are in a... city.

There are two marvellous trees at the end of the park; poplars with ivy coats, which have looked amazing every day in the snow and tonight they were at their eerie finest looming out of the murky dark. I say 'dark' but that has been one of the wonderful things about the snow; when combined with the streetlights the park adopts an other-worldly orange glow and it is light enough to see your way despite being unlit directly. The creak of my feet was tonight joined by the slow and gentle drip as the thaw set in; long may it last. Despite the beauty and the amazing light effects I am getting to see every morning and night, it would be good to know that my car can function once more and I can move further than a couple of miles away from my house...

There is undoubtedly something calming and settling about adopting a rhythm based on walking however, which reminds me of last spring when I got in the habit of walking every day, and on Arran last year when needs meant much more communing with nature. Mental note; walking is a definate aid to the removal of anxiety and encourages contemplation in place of stress. Also means less guilt about eating things made with sugar.

About to attempt the wrapping and organisation of Christmas gifts; only one to go really which is for a random relative's child who I have never met. Not at all sure why I bother, but know that it would cause raised eyebrows and tutting from the older generation if I stopped, so I continue. I do wonder how long this will be expected, however; not sure if my imagination (or tolerance) can stretch to buying gifts for unknown teenagers...

So, cards and paintings all round, and I hope not too many disappointed faces on Christmas day upon discovering the lack of dodgy perfumed products or M&S fleece gloves.

Outside the fog continues to move silently past the street lights.

All those Sunday songs

2010-12-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

Having copped out of working/painting in the gallery today due to my lack of tax/MOT/insurance, which itself is due to the 'extreme weather conditions', I decided to have a proper Sunday. For this I prepared myself with tea, warm clothing, cat and newspaper and settled upon the sofa to recline, relax and read. Cats are obviously genetically programmed for Sundays and Twig had probably spent months wondering why I wasn't conforming to her expectations of human behaviour. She took up residence on my stomach, preventing any movement, including tea drinking and newspaper reading; when I decanted to the table, she arrived and laid herself out on the paper in a manner appropriate for covering the most possible print area. Team point Twig; latest cat behaviour exam passed with flying colours.

She managed to wake me with her mad yowling this morning, of course, so all attempts at a lie-in were thwarted. The yowling seems to mean either 'Mum! Dad is trapped in that room and I can hear running water!! Help me save him!' or 'Dad!! Don't go in there! Don't leave me here with her and that fat black-and-white creature! Help!!'

Haven't figured out which; for some reason she only performs this ritual when Stu is showering, obvioulsy unphased by my removal to the land of the running water...

I did get some work done as well, I am proud to report; just when I thought I was all 'angelled-out' I realised that the need for Christmas presents was upon me and so I took once more to the small box canvases and created a small hoard of winged ones for friends and relatives. I had started yesterday but it still came out at about 75mins per angel, so a good chunk of the day was taken up with gainful employment.

Annoyingly, as I write, Stu is an hour later than he had hoped to escape from the kitchen hell today. This is one of his 'half' days; only working from 8 to 4 instead of the whole grind through to the dead of night; sadly it is the first day many people will have escaped their icy lairs to indulge in the evil occupation known as shopping, so I fear that he may have been mobbed.

Guess I will complete my own little Christmas present extravaganza and wrap the little angels up for their journeys around the country; and not a credit card abused.

Wonky faces

2010-12-03T14:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, this is just a thing that has been playing on my mind, which revolves around three things that I heard recently which tie in together but do not yet form a complete theory.

(Can't write about 'theories' at any time without hearing Sickboy from Trainspotting, but that's a diversion>)

Thing number one is the mention in the Howson documentary of the use of a mirror to check the 'rightness' of a portrait. This is something I do myself; I think we were pointed in the direction in art college. Just never really thought about it before in the context of:

Thing number two, which I read about in the paper the other day; how we see ourselves 'wonky' in the mirror and correctly in photographs. Look over someone's shoulder in a mirror and they look weirdly 'wrong' because we are used to seeing them the other way around; this is weird because they see themselves most often this way and may account for why we often dislike photos of ourselves or find them strangely alien. How does this apply in the case of the portrait painting though - are we checking for 'rightness' or just symmetry? Have I been forever correcting faces to make them better when in fact I am just correcting symmetry, which is not necessarily essential. Because of the third thing:

Which is the fact that we are all asymmetrical to a degree and often (allegedly) chose partners with a similar degree of symmetry. The article that outlined this theory also suggested that we essentially find more symmetrical people more attractive.

As I suggested obliquely in the Sickboy reference, this is not a very good or watertight theory about anything in particular, but the point of interest that I took from it was the question of whether we are striving to paint symmetrical faces unneccessarily due to our urge to look at them in mirrors for correction.

I think that's all I have to say on this for the moment.

Spent a few meaningful and fulfilling hours shovelling snow off the cul-de-sac today and revelling in the cameraderie of it all. Having put up with miserable snow-doom-mongers for the last four days it was refreshing to have a bit of good old fashioned manual labour, meet some previously unacknowledged neighbours and poke fun at others who were resolutely indoors in a good-natured way. One guy had a great 'spade' made of planks, which actually did a fine job and made a further mockery of those whose non-participation rested on the lack of proper implements.

One big chunk of tarmac, now clear of ice and neatly gritted, is now forever mine. Park on it at your peril non-diggers.

Feedback on the wonky face issue will be greatly welcomed as it is bugging me now.

Eating the giant cake

2010-12-03T14:12:00.000-08:00

When I was younger I had a recurring dream in which I was in a room that resembled the barn in Rumplestiltskin (Ladybird edition) in which the straw is spun to gold; in my dream it was myself and a mountain of sugar which I was being made to eat with a big dessert spoon. Mountains of sugar and a huge spoon. Last night I had a similar dream about a giant Christmas cake which I was eating as if my life depended on it, fighting off competition to stuff handfulls in my mouth. What the two dreams had is common is the feeling of wanting to eat and not wanting to eat; liking the sugar but being horrified by so much of it being forced upon me.

Sometimes when things puzzle us and their meaning is veiled, writing it down will help decipher the hidden message. Other times, and I am thinking that this is one of these occasions, this is not the case.

I am definately feeling restless and out of sorts though. I am used to finishing a period of painting and then wanting to move on, but I was so pleased with the work I had put up in the show last week that I thought maybe I would feel differently this time. Nope. My mind is already picking holes in the pictures and creating new ones in their place. The itchy feet of painting is possibly one of its curses; I wish that I could sit and relish a moment for once in a while, but I seem incapable. Maybe all this means is that I am not yet where I wish to be; this is certainly true, but it would be good to know that the incessant searching will end at some point. That I will be able to stand and be content with my place in the world and my little creations in it.

Does this have any connection to dreams of eating giant confectionary products? Have I been spending too long in the murky world of food retail?

Oh, and 'Luci', the painting at the top there, is my favourite of the moment and my inspiration for the new canvases under construction; just so I remember what point I was at come the start of December because, no doubt, by January I will have moved on...

Crunchy boots

2010-12-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

Another day, another crunchy walk through the stubborn, hunkering snow. Gradually honing my clothing skills to the point that I found myself to be quite disappointed this evening upon returning home... warm. Ate some toasted Soreen loaf anyway, just as a nod to convention.

Tonight the Braidburn valley was really light again; yesterday I doubted my sanity walking there after nightfall, but the cloud was over again and reflecting the city lights onto the snow so that all was orange; slippy orange to be true, as the sledges are polishing the path a bit now...

Listening to Amazing Radio (the name, not my opinion) which is quite refreshing for its mix of new music, and definately an improvement on Stu's staple diet of Planet Rock. I think his midlife crisis started to kick in the moment we changed from Virgin breakfast show to Alice Cooper; the jury is still out as to which is preferable but I do get an awful lot of mileage out of laughing at rock lyrics of a morning. In Hanoi last year I found a hotel called the Hanoi Amazing Hotel and booked in, purely on the name. It was very good in a mad, Vietnamese way and we had a roof terrace looking over lots of other roof terraces over the old town, so I guess it earned its name.

Next week sees the opening of another show with my work represented; the Marchmont Gallery's winter show. Very pleased to see that the flyer and email feature a piece of my work, so I shall be forwarding that about the place. Hoping to get a few sales before Christmas and feeling totally gutted that the snow has hit at the exact time that the show opened at Ritchie's gallery, essentially wiping out all the promotion that I had been firing out, as I really can't see anyone going out of their way to do anything until the snow clears, which could be a long time..

But I guess the main thing is that from next Thursday I will be represented artistically in three shows; maybe something will sell and aid my Christmas funds, but in case all is hopeless I had better start painting little canvases to send out as presents. Plan B.

The question is, can I save the last piece of Soreen until Stu comes home and offer it to him in a devoted show of partnership, or will I cave in, eat it and make up some story about the cats eating it or throwing it inadvertantly in their litter tray....

Along winters night

2010-12-01T12:42:00.000-08:00

One of the pleasures of winter; walking home in the dark with the snow underfoot so creaky it is the only thing you can hear. Remembering the thing they always quote about the far north; that you can hear your breath freeze and fall to the ground. Nothing makes a city into a wilderness like snow; in the face of it we are all a little humbled and handicapped. I can almost hear the snow chuckling; 'so you think you are so powerful...'

Came home to a cup of tea and a couple of slices of toasted Soreen malt loaf; it doesn't get much better than that. Legs still burning from the cold and cheeks already turning beetroot from the warmth of the house; who says winter is the worst season. I'm thinking of yurts in the wilderness, mystical songs in the endless nights and innumerable stars spinning overhead.

Just read a report on the life forms that have been found at the bottom of a lake in Yosemite living in arsenic rich conditions 'hostile to life'. Oops, so see all those planets up there that we have described in that manner all these years, not to mention all those episodes of Star Trek...

Cool.

Watched 'City of God' again tonight; such an amazing film visually; how you can make something so beautiful from such a bleak subject matter. Leaving early to finish watching tomorrow however; no matter how long the nights I still seem to need more sleep.

Snowprints, quietly

2010-11-30T11:55:00.000-08:00

Feeling like such a bad person; totally forgot to post yesterday! I have been feeling down, which I guess was in sympathy to Stu's blues, so I really wasn't concentrating on anything in particular yesterday. Lucky I have already established that a missed post does not constitute failure unless it stops me in my tracks, which it hasn't. I will just have to keep on blogging after the one year mark to make up for my misdemeanours during the course of the twelve months. To be honest, I am hoping that the year's end sees me move over to a new subject, which will be the progress of our new business... started putting finger to keyboard yesterday with our business plan, so the process is begun. Ha, there now I've said it! I first toyed with starting up on my own fifteen years ago and elements of that time are still in my mind, but now with a lot more experience behind it, so my fingers are crossed. But I run away with myself; we are still in the Bateau-Lavoir year...

Snow forced me to tr

avel to and from cashdayjob by foot today, which afforded a great opportunity for gazing at snowy trees and hills; one of my favourite occupations in the world. I even allowed myself enough time to creep into the little thickets in the Braidburn valley, especially the willows by the burn and just hover there for a while in the early morning light listening to the water and the snow falling. I tend to chuckle to myself with delight at such times so if you were passing a group of trees this morning in the blue dawn and thought you

heard an angel laughing.. nah, it was just me.

Came back the same way and was rewarded with yet more light spectaculars as the evening brought orange

clouds lit by the city and reflected snow, scudding by at lightning speed over the valley; very dramatic and purposeful.

I also met a few snow people out and about today; a relaxed guy sitting on a bench by the Braidburn this morning holding a flower, and a monkey in a trolley outside Waitrose holding a banana. Sometimes I think I am going slightly mad, but I think it is just that there are more mad and creative souls out there than I sometimes give the world credit for. Long may they weave their little magic spells.

Watched the excellent documentary on Peter Howson last night (and the night before, joy of iplayer) and am now in awe of both the man and his experience. I had no idea how good an artist he was or the struggle he goes through on a day to day basis just to make sense of it all and deal with the creativity that just exudes from him. Totally misjudged his work, I have to say, having imagined him as some hard, cocky, trendy art guy; how much differently you read the images when you know a little more of the man behind them. One thing puzzles me, but this is a religion thing and so bound to be confusing... Howson came to religion through a series of revelations as he battled addiction and now sees himself as a Protestant. How does that work? Surely God doesn't take sides when he pops up in visions and tell you which side of the sectarian divide he is appearing from? To me that's the problem with Christianity in a nutshell; it always has to have a label, an affiliation... surely that defeats the purpose?

Maybe leave that one alone.

The next Summit

2010-11-28T09:43:00.000-08:00

Ah, the ups and downs, the peaks and troughs... life has its little ways of kicking us when we are down, but also of pulling the rug out from under our feet when we are up.

And its always when you least expect it.... sound familiar? Guess we're all human after all.

Stu is really depressed today; I think he is reaching the end of his own personal endurance and to be honest I am not surprised. The hours he has worked over his career in catering would probably come to double a 'normal' persons when tallied up; there is always one day in his six-day week when he starts at 8am and finishes at around 11pm. That is a long day, and they add up into long weeks, long months, long years. So I am now worrying my little head off again as we are so close to reaching the end of the year, so close to being able to leave the day jobs and head off on our own. This in itself is scary but not nearly as scary as the thought of having to try and make Stu do another year in kitchens or, worse, find some half-assed shitty job that he will hate just to pay the bills. Yikes.

What this will do, of course, is push me harder to make it work for us; to get onto the nitty gritty of how we are going to make our own business work; the whens, wheres and whatevers of it all, for this is the real deal here and we are going to have a lot of hard work ahead of us...

But... and its a big, fat, hairy but, we have no options but to make this work. The line at the start of my blog said it all - I thought one day 'what would I do if my life depended on it?'; then I realised that it did.

Dug the car out literally and myself out metaphorically and crossed town to the gallery where I primed a canvas, looked out the window and thought long and hard. Tomorrow I will start on the business plan and get the wheels of wonder in motion. Had a bit of a Haiku day today, as always happens when I am in reflective mode. I will let them outline my mood today...

Despite the snowfall

The path at my feet was clear;

Even with closed eyes

You are losing hope.

I hope I am strong enough

To hold you aloft

Hold your mind still and

Search the patterns there;

Then open your eyes

The path goes past here

I saw footprints in the snow

And they go beyond

You don't talk much,

I cannot articulate;

So I wrote this down