Perky and pinky

Some beautiful moments are to be had in the hours before the rest of the world wakes; I once sat on my sofa and watched a yellow mouse creep over the feet of a buddha by my kitchen door as I sat stricken by grief at the death of Frank, our first cat. That was surreal and caused me to wonder if I was tripping, but its the truth; emotion can play tricks with your mind but the truth is unbendable.

This morning I was fed a cup of tea at 5am by Stu, deranged by Twig's antics and persistent playing with masking tape balls under the amp. The tea slowly cooled and it was only once it was below blood temperature that I picked it up and attempted to partake of it. Disappointed I adjourned to the microwave for ressurection, and so began my solo morning contemplation in the living room. A wonder ocurred. Editing my website led to researching artists biographies, led to the Marchmont Gallery, and their artist of the month. Meeeeee! Did I say that out loud? Loud enough?
Surprises are so much better than not surprises; they are just so darn surprising, and so rare to find a good one. Cue perky mood for the rest of the day and vague awareness of said perky mood grating on fellow humans.

Also spent my early hours looking at some art for the hell of it, for inspiration, and because I just love that you can do that on a computer. No I don't think that it is the end of books, paper, art, holidays or normal communication, but its a pretty useful way to spend the early hours and there aren't so many places you can compare and contrast the females nudes and portraits of Leonardo, Rafael, Botticelli and Modigliani unless you are a mouse that lives in the Louvre. (And then you would have plenty of opportunity for creeping over the feet of statues and freaking out grief-stricken mortals.)

I love that Modigliani does scrafito hair; I had never noticed, and I have only ended up using it myself by a happy accident. The last hair I scrafito-ed ended up looking like a tea towel, so my mind started going towards Ingres and his Turkish bathers; now that is a painting - the boy could draw... My studies ended with a run through Orientalism, which I guess is where I am coming from in some ways, as my Far East experiences and references are always as seen by a Westerner and from the standpoint of my culture and study. We are back to fusion in a way.

Great example of that was delivered to our door today from the 'Tartan Curry House' or some such anomaly. 'Tikka chicken with our special sauce, topped with mozzarella cheese.' I believe the phrase I am seeking is WTF...

So the net result of the odalisques, women with fans, recliners and ladies with ermine is the start of a painting with the working title of 'Suki, Greensleeves and Popsicle'; a classic study of feminine beauty and proportion with a healthy addition of potato print. The title occurred to me while weeding and like all good titles, would not leave me until I used it. So here goes.

Dinner was served none too soon tonight as I had napped this afternoon due to my early rise, and so effectively missed lunch. I can't go too far with originality on this one as we effectively finished off some odds and sods with a few new additions. Did a great shop in Aldi's today though and actually managed to sneak in a new mascara; I have no idea if it will last or out-perform the more costly brands, but I am dead sure that it contains less bacteria and dead skin cells than the one it replaces. We also partook of some beetroot juice tonight, which someone told me was a bit odd and an aquired taste - to someone like myself who loves beetroot like my own soul, (bad simile, I do actually like it a lot) it is just heaven. Pink pee manana!