A sequence of events

Wish I could remember the exact quote; its from 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' and it concerns the feeling that things are at last going right; "the birds of fortuity were alighting on her shoulders". I paraphrase, I am sure; I'll see if I can look it up before blog's end. (There's a good name for a techie hobbit house...)

Stupidly good things happened today and all interconnected in the spirit of karma and the following of links that I have been doing all month. One of the best bits is this; having seen 'my publisher' (more later) I came home and delved about in corners trying to fish out some older but greater works for re-photographing with publication in mind. Having pulled a particularly loved but giant work out from behind the wardrobe, my favourite-ever-but-declared-lost jeans popped out, closely followed by a kaftan top of similar status. Hurray! I like to think that on some cloud somewhere a little angel was working on her 'tick' list of good things versus bad things and went "did a good thing," *tick* "gets a good thing happen" *tick* or more to the point, maybe my time of punishment for some bad deep elapsed at that certain point in time...

So, a good day of accomplishments, the main one being that I can now use the words "my publisher" dropped casually into sentences; I think I might do this frequently for a while until, heaven forbid, the novelty wears off. Its funny because my associations with those two words are luckily both funny; my mental encyclopaedia of popular culture (incomplete and mis-filed) threw up Educating Rita (again) where Frank is constantly raising amused eyebrows at his colleague talking endlessly on the phone to 'his publisher' as a pretext for liasing with Frank's wife. Second reference is in Sideways, where Miles agonises over calling 'his publisher' in a too familiar scenario to all artists; the call to find out if publication is actually a going to happen.

Moved my painting bank account today too *trumpets* from a greetings card inside the dictionary of saints (having imagined that saints won't be top interest of your average burglar) to an actual bank! Woo! Makes no bones if it stays in three figures for the rest of the year, at least the deed is done and my little paint transactions can be kept in order; as I said to "my publisher" today, I only really want enough money back just now to afford more paint - the day job is there to take care of food, fuel and hopefully travels next year...

Popped into the Scottish Gallery, who had a mixed show that read as a history of their exhibitions; lots of familiar names and some lovely pieces. Interested to see that the big Bellany harbourscape was framed like mine, no slip or mount, having had a major debate to myself about the pros and cons of this. John Houston's colour made me smile; one of a very pink - raspberry - sky over Fife cornfields, very loose and expression-y and another almost painfully (in a good way) blue pic of a North Berwick sea and sky scape; no Bass Rock for once which was a relief. Others I paused long in front of, besides Bellany, were Peter McLaren's huge, bold still life with Las Meninas, a kind of double nod to Velasquez and Picasso, yet so totally his in style. Great picture.

Also Denis Peploe, a lovely pink lobster and Archie Forrest, whose show I saw there a couple of months ago. Colour and pattern and exuberance all!!

A night of frame painting ahead of me and those five little angel faces are still to come; lucky I think I am in possession of time and mood to find the little blighters tonight! May even start a new one although my sepia biro search is still unfulfilled; may have to resort to the internet - the lengths we go to...

Doh! Off on a tangent or five and the point of the essay is forgotten; I am able to bore people rigid with phrases including "my publisher" because some kind soul has decided to publish a selection of my work as prints and cards - I shall, naturally, keep you posted and shove the details in everyones faces for the rest of the year, if that's okay.

PS: looked it up and I was nearly spot on; "the birds of fortuity had alighted on her shoulders."