To The Mitchell

To Glasgow today, to track down The Mitchell. I have shifted to the other computer tonight because my non-saving blog accident means that I have given myself a two-post day; *phew*. And... I have forgotten to wear my glasses all night when I have been painting/printing, so the eye police will be after me - I can feel a low level headache starting and things.. are.. going.. fuzzy....

This was a bit of a bonus day as I had resigned myself to not submitting to the RGI show for the first time as I hadn't got the day off, the carrier had proved too expensive and I was thinking that I really didn't need the added stress that such things inevitably bring. Finally snapped and admitted that it was important to me, so swapped shifts to allow a trip over to the west. It's pathetic, but you do feel as if it is you being judged as well as your art; and having your art judged in such an impersonal way is bad enough. No feedback will ever be given so you are left to imagine the worst; judging panel left helpless with laughter at artist's feeble attempt at painting.. who knows what goes on behind those hallowed portals? Finding the portals was the first job of the day; having had a shifty online and discovered that The Mitchell was a building of large and stately proportions capped with a generous dome, I was a touch puzzled that I had never noticed it in one of many meanders up and down Sauchiehall Street. All indicators suggested that it would be visible from said thoroughfare and in an area with which I am familiar.

Caught the wonderfully cheap bus from St Andrews and settled down for a good old snooze, slightly hampered by two paintings wedged in front of my knees as I was far too clingy to let them go anywhere else; luckily the bus was quiet and no crazy person tried to join me in my limited space.

To cut a long and somewhat tedious story short; a quick march up Sauchiehall, past some truly excruciating buskers and the dreaded Primark, I found myself on the familiar turf of the M8 over/underpass that divides shops from B&Bs. Lo and behold as I waited for the lights to turn my eyes fell upon a large dome, and under it a sadly located building of some size and presence. The Mitchell. Poor thing to end up overlooking a motorway underpass among a collection of buddlea infested pavements and ramps; not quite what the architects had in their original vision, one imagines. Great interior though, and the checking in process was made more painless than usual by the two exhibitors in the queue being in ownership of some truly appalling paintings. One was a carrier, so at least he had no connection to the creations he carried (and tried to disown by mentioning that he was a carrier some four or five times); please note I am not being snobbish or insensitive here, the work sucked bigtime. I have had my time of being horribly aware that my work stuck out like a sore thumb among professional offerings and so for once I was grateful for the boot to be on the other foot.

Most of the rest of the artworks were stacked face to the wall as if they had been misbehaving, so more relief there, although I did spot a familiar work from a guy who works in Coburg House studios whose name escapes me, and it is just as well because I found him less than congenial when I visited his space at the open day. Nuff said.

Unladen I skipped back to Buchanan bus station and slept like a 'bairn' on the bag of bubblewrap I now carried all the way back to Corstorphine.

Twas then a hop and a skip over to Candlemaker Row to collect the next batch of frames for the two shows and catch up with my harrassed framers, who are just about to go off on holiday and so probably needed my next order of six frames like a proverbial hole in the head. The ones I got back look great though and that was me back to the studio printing on frames, paintings and myself for three hours... A day well spent methinks.

Last night we watched a film Ritchie leant me with my current angel obsession in mind: Luc Besson's 'Angel-A' from 2005. Not a film I had heard of or seen any reviews of, but that was a bitch of a year so maybe no surprise there. Set in Paris (the other reason it was suggested I would like it) and very heavy on the fairytale, it is beautifully shot in black and white and gave me Paris sickness bigtime. Lord knows when I will be back over...

Loved it anyway and had the predictable teary moment; not that this necessarily means that much with me as Stu will testify. There aren't that many films in the collection that don't produce a wee blub at some point; I am just an old sentimental fool, and proud of it:)

Now, two weeks waiting to see if a Nilsson will adorn the walls of the Mitchell this November...

Dancing lights in the rain

Gutted; wrote this whole post before setting out to Glasgow this morning (Thursday, because I forgot to post it yesterday) and then realised when I got back that it was sitting as a draft. Somehow....managed not to save it and posted nothing. Back to the start, although it may be a little briefer this time around, my heart's not in a day old blog post.

The day was earmarked for taking Stu's mum out for a late birthday outing as our cashflow and lack of days off together had made it impossible on the day over two weeks ago. Naturally the day dawned hidden by a sheet of rain and it continued to chuck it down for most of the rest of the day, but we were undeterred as I am of the humble opinion that the Borders can look just as lovely in the wet, and the Tweed is great when it is really dashing. I managed to work in an artistic endevour so we kicked off with a visit to the Dancing Lights gallery near Lamancha, on the road to Peebles. The gallery is in a new (year old) complex that also houses an organic farm shop and cafe, all of which were very shiny, jolly and friendly; shall definately return for some of their fine looking produce, all the meat and veg being from the farm itself; on a less challenging day we could have wandered the 'duck walk' around the grounds and farmland.

The gallery is owned by Helen Bell, a chartered accountant who has come to curating via appreciation of art and has done a fine job gathering some accessible and attractive work in a very light, airy space. Ludmilla Kosmina's ceramics are in evidence, (she is part of the show with Ritchie and myself in November) alongside fellow potters Mark Haillay, Vanessa Bullick and Alison Ogden. Of the painters I was drawn to Gill Shreeve, whose work I have seen at the SSA show and which fitted perfectly here as her near-abstract forms always speak to me of a very organic, earthy theme. There were more of her pictures in the restaurant, which again suited them beautifully. Stephanie Tristram also had some great work up and a few others who I failed to record; no insult meant, I was in networking mode to a degree and so not concentrating as much as I should. Helen's mum was in gallery sittting and was more than happy to pass on details to her daughter; I must admit I would love to show here as it is much more interesting and directional than many of the Lothian galleries I have bumped into. Fingers crossed.
We continued on to Peebles but I failed in my aim to track down more galleries of interest; it is always hard on a day like that to get enthused about any more than holing up in a good pub for lunch, so we did the decent thing and didn't resist.

Allspicy

The title is because of my state of mind, which is full of eagerness and promise at the idea of two days off and a trip to Glasgow to submit paintings for the RGI show; also because someone asked me what Allspice was and I remembered from some dark corner of my brain and told them. To make it even more remarkable in the world of stored random facts, Stu didn't know. Wowsers. It's weird when that happens; expectations subverted. It's a spice that looks kind of like a peppercorn and is the dried berries of something related to Mulberry and is used in the Jerk seasoning of the Carribean and Middle Eastern cuisine. It is called allspice because in some century the British decided it tasted like a blend of spices that they already knew about; in fact its not a blend at all but just uno spice. Which is what distinguishes it from 'Mixed spice' which is.. mixed spice. Various. Which is what the question was all about in the first place that I miraculously knew the answer to.
Thought of something else miraculous today; following on from how us artists are all sensitive and crazy and self indulgent I realised how amazing it is that Stu, with no former artistic background, puts up with and actively encourages my creativity and introspective behaviour, not to mention talking about figs as if they are creatures or maybe planets. It's really very cool and underlies my whole ability to do everything that I do in the line of painting, writing and general creativity.
So; trip to Glasgow is on now to take pictures to the RGI show. One of the other fascinating discoveries (or observations) of the day is how you don't know how much something means to you until it is about to be taken away; or how what's been making you act cranky until it is removed. So today I discovered that submitting my pictures to the show was a really big deal to me because I almost couldn't do it; so I made it possible by grovelling to fellow cashjobworkers to cover my shift on Thursday. (Thank you Tim; you will be rewarded in art heaven.) Also I realised why I had been feeling so out of sorts. 1) Extreme tiredness, soon to be rectified by two days off instead of one and a return coach journey, sleeping, to Glasgow, 2) Not getting a shot at exhibiting the pictures.
Thinking about torch singers, and the film Priscilla, queen of the desert; both with relation to the pictures that started out as angels and have now morphed into the leaf-bunny ladies. Now morphing further as new ideas and influences either appear or are recognised. For now, however; sleep.
I have two days to get up to artistic mischief.

More minnows

I love the things you learn just by standing around being alive. Discovered today that you can feed bees fondant icing over the winter; pop a piece in their little food receptacle (what would that look like?) and they will wander over in their winter daze and have a little lick to keep them going. How did someone think of this, what did they do before and has anyone latched onto it as a product? Must check out a beekeeping website and see if there is someone out there marketing funky flavoured icing with a catchy bee-friendly name. And I found this out purely because someone felt the need to tell me. Someone also felt the need to talk to me about figs again but this is no longer a surprise. Good quote from the Saatchi site, if a little long, but as it concerns this 'sensitivity' to things, coincidence, visual cues etc it's worth repeating I think.

' What we all do is art, you know? We are noticers, we are sensitives, we notice the rhythms in certain things and we identify them, and then we coin terms for them, and most of the world is not able to keep up. But some people just have that innate thing that allows them to express themselves in a way the majority can follow.' - Pharell Williams.

Maybe that is what we strive to do ; find a kind of happy medium between expressing ourselves in art that only we can understand, and pleasing the majority too. That has certainly been a dilemma of mine for a long time; to paint what springs forth naturally or to somehow tailor this for a perceived audience? Saying it out loud makes me realise the folly every time as the only 'true' work will be that created with no artifice or intent of pleasing 'them'. By 'true' I mean that which has integrity, good drawing and is made in the right mental state for the right reason. I can tell every time when I am working on something that will end up behind the sofa and when I am doing something I will still want to see in two years' time; the problem is I insist on completing both and then stress about the ones that I shouldn't have finished in the first place. But then there is the dilemma when someone else sees the one behind the sofa and declares it 'your best yet'; hard one to reply to that.

It always bothers me to a degree talking about the sensitivity of artists; how we can see what others can't and are in touch with some force within and without ourselves - it feels arrogant and precious. But it is so true. Now I am nearing the completion of work for the Angel Haven show, which has taken up half a year in which I have been nose to the grind every spare moment, I reach the phase of questioning, doubt, anxiety. The certainty and confidence that exists during the creative process is suddenly stripped away and the creeping worries come to the front of my mind. I have been asked for an image for the publicity material and this is now a major issue for me; should it be one of the less obvious images to intrigue (or repulse) or a more conventional piece? What will best represent what has ended up a fairly cohesive but varied collection of image? Who said artists are too sensitive?...

Reading the blog of a fellow artist and friend and chuckling at how similar our concerns are; finding a niche, looking for the big answers.. where does my work fit into the great scheme of things? Sometimes it seems as if the internet explosion has created a world full of so many million artists, creatives, all of a sudden. I guess we were there all along, and have now just found a voice and a method of distribution that is open to all and allows work to cross the world in an instant. It is both exciting and threatening; it can make you feel like a very small fish in an ocean of competition, or part of a very large shoal. Depends how the mood takes you.

Bunny-leaf ladies

Sundays rule! Stunning sunny day today with a chill, but as previously stated, I am never happier than when swathed in woollies. Spent my first shift at Ritchie's gallery savouring the first time I have been paid to paint (rather than selling a painting), chatting to a selection of customers and meeting a mad local. I was accosted by said local as I was locking up and he gave me a brief synopsis of the local buildings and what had previously occupied their sites; who lived in what building, who they were related to and where they now resided if they were former occupants. This would have been fine if he hadn't, for reasons unknown, decided that I was Ritchie, and called me by his name every other word; truly surreal. For the record, it is probably possible to find two humans less alike than me and Ritchie, but not much given gender and height difference; amazing how context colours opinions.

I'd been doodling some ladies with leaf/bunny-ear hats/hair and decided to go with a few of them on my first ever box canvases (not entirely true, I did one last year for the lovely people who put us up for the first few weeks on Arran), but boy how time flew! I had it in mind to do three wee boxes and then sketch out and even start a bigger board. Managed two boxes and that was pushing over closing time; I didn't have a watch as usual and when I finished the first and checked time on the speaking clock I was amazed that two hours had already elapsed. Not even a cup of tea by that point!

Besides being a different way of painting to board it was quite easy to get into the swing of things and I left pleased with what I had accomplished; it would have been a bit mortifying to leave no trace of my artistic endevours for the day and have to mutter excuses! One lady showed interest and asked the price of my first one when it was not fifteen minutes on display so I hope they will go to good homes soon. The box canvases at that size (5x5") are very cute and can just sit on their own as a wee object; I like that, and they look good in little groups. I even managed to get the potato prints in, although it was weirder printing on a moving surface and it made a freaky sucking noise I am not accustomed to working on board...

Now my plans for the next picture at home are in disarray; I was all set to go for 'The Plaza Ballroom', which is a seascape with crinolined lady in a boat, and snowflakes, but now I have bunny-ears on the brain and can't help thinking how cool it would be to merge the two ideas; the angels with painted faces and the kind of 1920s vibe of the bunny ladies. The bunny ears, which are also kind of petals, are inspired by my potato print shape that I call 'bunny flower' (funnily enough) and the very cool rubber swimming hats with 3D flowers that I used to soooo covet as a teenager. Thinking of aqua, orange and pink colour scheme, kind of like a diner/ice cream shop look, or Bakelite; I am mixing my design decades here but who cares!

I am dreaming of how much fun it will be to never get up and go to a cashmoneyjob again... to paint for a living and have only myself and Stu to worry about (and a whole heap of customers, but there's no escaping them...). Insert dreamy Sunday song here.

Return of the woollies

Feels like an awful long time since last I sat at this computer. Twig the monster kit has made it her mission in life to prevent me working on the Mac as we have to keep the keyboard and mouse hidden and a jumper over the screen. Why? 'Cause the little darling can 'type' and wakes me up with the tapping of paws on keys and the sound of the Mac waking time after time at night if preventative measures are not taken. Maybe, just maybe, this is why Mr Jobs invented the tablet computer...

Just talking, or listening, computers with my mother. She is determined to learn to use one, thinks it will be useful, but in a deft doublethink move also considers them to be the enemies of civilisation and destroyers of moral values and human interaction. Okay, she has a point on the last one, but only a minor score. Digital cameras fall into the same (weird) category; she has about five and uses them all the time but despises anyone else who uses one in preference to 'real' film and lord help you if you dare to manipulate an image in the name of creativity... Reminding her that in years gone by she was the master of the 'fiddle' as it was fondly known - splicing pictures together, double exposures, shooting model tabletop sets - is met with distain. This is something entirely different and blatantly evil. I have been trying to get her to update to broadband so she can actually send emails rather than sit looking at messages and egg timers for hours on end, but to no avail. First it was because men would have to come into the house to lay cables, meaning disruption and unwelcome cleaning of the spare room. Next it was rejected on cost basis and complicated installment (wireless); I am ready to throw in the towel.

Last week I tried the new discovery; dongles which plug into your USB port and provide internet access via 'mobile phone' technology. Tonight I was told that this was apparently 'not reliable' and not suitable for her needs anyway; pointing out that the zillion users of iphones, Blackberries, Kindles, et al might have had a few words by now if the devices didn't actually work fell on deaf ears. Unsurprisingly. There is little more annoying than knowing the answer to a problem and being resolutely refused the right to put it into practice.

Did some great painting this morning in my favourite time slot; 6-9am. Stu needed a run in for his ludicrously early start (to finish around 11pm, good old catering) so I returned and whacked straight into the face on my "Haven" picture. I think it is a combination of mind clear from accumulated worries, light fresh and clean, cats sleepy, best cup of tea of the day; I always find it my most productive timeslot by far.

Went for my second haircut of the year after that; I love the fact that my hairdresser, if left unchecked, always cuts just a little too short. This means of course that the haircut lasts just a little longer before I begin to look like the Wild Woman of Wongo; a photo from last week was the trigger for the operation as I could barely see my face for the frizz. Potentially not a bad thing, but drying time in the morning was also reaching unacceptable lengths, which is not very me. Blast hair, slap on slap, out door is more my style. Speaking of which I have realised that one of the reasons I enjoy the onset of autumn is the excuse to return to my natural uniform of jumpers, jeans and scarves. Poetically, I can claim that this is my Scandinavian heritage showing itself and that my apalling dress sense in summer is a byproduct of this fact. Less poetically it is easier, removes the need for constant waxing and means that ironing is no longer a daily occupation. Weirdly I have far less clothes for the winter months, which may also play a part; take away the element of choice and the whole shebang is far less stressful and time consuming. No real point in trying out new combinations of jeans, jumpers and scarves before going out; the most adventurous I need to be is perhaps a woolly hat to finish the look. On Arran last year I bought a fine woolly helmet in April when it was still chilly and commented to the shop lady that it was probably a bit late in the season to be making such a purchase. She just looked at me funny and laughed in a way that was to become all too familiar in the following months. Lets just say the words "Twin Peaks" and leave it at that.

It did give me a few monumental fashion moments over the summer as I experimented liberally with the idea of dresses, leggings and woolly hats, safe in the knowledge that everyone else on the island was on holiday and couldn't have given two hoots or were not on holiday, therefore resident, therefore... I'll say no more.

Determined to leave the heating alone until absolutely necessary this year, so scarf in the house is the way to go for now, and - soon - retire to bed early with a good book and a pile of cats.

Colour swatches

Bought a fig.

The fig sits plainly

Suggestive of inner life.

I ask it questions

Thinking a lot about colours today; maybe it is still the fig thing. I am also determined to get a picture over to Glasgow for the RGI show; I am unable to get there on the submission days but have emailed the carrier service. I just have a good vibe about the work I have done this summer and hope I might get accepted. Maybe I won't tell Stu I'm submitting though as he knows how it wears me down. It's like being rejected from colleges or failing exams; you come out with all kinds of excuses why it won't matter if you don't get in (talking to yourself of course) and everyone else looks at you in that way they all have of knowing that you are gutted. I've submitted to two SSA shows over the last few years to no avail and it always comes back to soul searching and 'oh no I'm just rubbish and no-one's had the heart to tell me yet...'

Anyway; think I'll do it anyway if I can sneak it past Stu and then he won't be trying to protect me from my own paranoia and anxiety. Problem is that where Stu is concerned I am the worst ever keeper of secrets; blogging about it isn't a great start exactly but I don't think he reads my words of wisdom too often. Sure way to find out!

Colours I am thinking of are those indefinable and wonderful combinations that you just see and are amazed that someone - or nature - have come up with such an audacious pairing. Tonight the sky was that amazing winter blue, with an apricotty bottom and these huge lowering clouds in slate blue. It was the slate blue that was the genius - really dark and opaque against the luminous sky. The fig is of course another thing; from the outside it is dark and brooding in purples and bruise colours but then there is that fantastic lime (? not really) green piercing through the cloudiness. And I haven't even opened the fruit yet; still more excitement to come.

Chartreuse is another that can take your breath away when it is next to certain things; I guess it would be lost in a mass of cream and white but put it side by side with a deep purpley navy or even a really rich moley grey and the effect is electric. I've also been messing with burnt sienna, which I have always kind of sidelined as something you might use in a muddy bit of watercolour depicting autumn foliage, but it can also act like a great grey; as a foil for other more vibrant, obvious colours. The picture I am just doing is the third or fourth in a row where I have offset the sienna against, in this case, turquoise and formerly, orange. Really liking how it looks and it is taking me further away from my 'old' palette, which had become a bit of a comfort zone.

The night is really autumnal, cold and flat tonight; clear sky after that great sundown and the draughts around my windows are reappearing for the winter. Time for a hasty retreat to the studio on the 'warm' side of the house. Playing with box canvasses for Ritchie's gallery which have always been a problem for me as I don't usually work on canvas and it throws me a bit. Works quite differently, and in this case they are also very small so I am trying to create shorthand versions of some things and subjects that I love. We shall see.

Figs and fur

Thinking about going down to visit 'Number Four' gallery in St Abbs, who are showing my work in their Christmas show. One of the things I really believe in is establishing a personal relationship with people who you are working with in the arts as it is such a personal area to deal with. I can't imagine sending work around the country to exhibitons without involvement on a face-to-face basis; maybe that will change but I don't imagine so. I am not commercially minded in that way; even the greetings card thing works best for me at a local level where I can visit the studio and have a connection and a communication with those in charge of my artwork. Sadly I seem to be having a bit of a breakdown in talking with the company who published my cards in August; haven't heard how it went or how it may progress, which is frustrating and slightly worrying. I have heard so many horror stories of artists losing control of who is publishing and reproducing images and having to chase for acknowledgement and rights; so much is done on trust and that is not necessarily a bad thing, but communication needs to happen.

Started sketching away last night for things to produce on my Sundays at the gallery; I am very much hoping to use the time to create smaller works that will hopefully sell easier than the big ones and will also give me a chance to enjoy myself and experiment with different scale, media, subject etc. I love all the little ones Ritchie churns out while he's in the gallery and hope I can start to work a little looser away from the studio and the constraints that I put on myself there. It is hard not to work on one of the 'big' pieces when I am at home as they are sitting looking at me waiting to be finished or started and going off on a tangent with smaller sketches always seems frivolous somehow. The only good thing about Stu being (temporarily, hopefully) back on his evil late nights is that I have to occupy myself of an evening and have got into quite a nice little routine of painting and working in my sketchbook, then having a wee snooze before he creeps in at gone midnight...and then we try and have some quality time before crashing at 2am.

Just noticed a show at the Edinburgh Printmakers that I want to see, so have to add that to my list of things to visit when I get a day off to do so; opted for a six day week at cashmoneyjob so I have kind of shot myself in the foot in that I am now lamenting the lack of time to spend on gallery visiting and actually cleaning the house!! It's all very well being creative but when your paint keeps getting covered in cat hair you know the hoovering is overdue. Apologies to all the cat intolerant people who are now going *ewwwwww cat hair* but it does get everywhere and there is no getting away from it in a household where two of the occupants have fur and tails.

Realised that I have lost the note I wrote with my hours on it, a shopping list, a quote from Fingers and a drawing of a fig with wings. At least it may give someone pause for thought if they find it around, although I am gutted to have lost Finger's words of wisdom for the day. The fig drawing I can fix, although I have AGAIN forgotten to purchase one of the little blighters for studying and drawing purposes. The fig is set to haunt me for a while longer... must go and look up some figgy facts to keep me amused in the meantime.

And.. found the note. Words of wisdom were (and I like this one) 'Well, it's another day today.'

It sure is, and worth noting sometimes, rather than speeding on through it.

New post

Nothing about figs today; I was going to start a close-up study of one, both visually and in painted form but it was not to be. No beetroot juice in the supermarket meant that I left without wandering and so forgot my fig mission. Darn it; mission reattempted tomorrow.

I did notice another strange little coincidence earlier; having spent the last few days thinking about and researching Bakst for his wonderful costume sketches ( the word 'sketches' hardly suffices when they are that good) I noticed in a *doh* moment that the postcard I bought over the summer and stuck on my pinboard is...a Bakst sketch. Was my train of thought drawn gradually to Bakst due to the image stuck in my head from my studio wall or is it, gasp, destiny? I don't believe this for a minute but it is odd how things seem to lead you by the nose in a cetain direction; I seem to always be having that conversation with Ritchie. As a fellow artist he has the same need to explain himself and his directions and inspirations; I think it reassures us that we are doing 'the right thing' when we branch out along a particular course of artistic action. Not that we always really want to listen - its a sounding block producing an echo of our thoughts.

Passed on the amazing image of the city of Jodhpur that I found in the Sunday supplement today; I may yet find a use or an outlet for it in my own work, but it was certainly glaringly suggestive of Ritchie's layered buildings and cityscapes. I always enjoy looking at any new colours and ideas, both in his work and scrap-book cuttings he has dug up; it feels like the art school experiences that were positive and good. Not many of them at the end of the day so the revisited version is very pleasant; maybe I would have been able to go back as a mature student and have the confidence and skill to get something out of it had I gone later...? not really worth worrying about though. Hoping to get some worktime at the Edinburgh Printmakers next year and see where I can go with my patterns with the help of a fully equipped studio and some tuition. Very cool.

Wonderful inconsistency reared its head today too; having got my head around the idea that I am in effect blogging to the entire world, should it decide to log in and take a peek, I was disturbed to find a work colleague asking for 'friend' status on Facebook. *Yikes* real people I know reading my stuff - scary! It is strange the tricksy little ways of the internet; I am fascinated to gather connections to people in India, America, Russia, that I will probably never meet (maybe that's the point) but horrified by someone I could bump into face to face knowing my inner thoughts about figs and the nature of coincidence. I think its a school thing; my knee jerk reaction to anything involving social events, gathering of colleagues and the like is still to run and hide... experiences do stay with you and my school experiences were not the most positive.

Someone mentioned their high school reunion the other day and how comic it was seeing all the old people; big neon sign flashed up in my brain saying 'Defintion of Hell'. That said I would have no idea if my school ever held a reunion as I hope I have run far and fast not to see it turning the corner, Road Runner style, coming after me...

Development of the day; I am now officially working for Ritchie as his artist-in-gallery on Sunday afternoons; employed to drink tea and paint for four hours a week. A small step but mine own, and I shall relish it; met a lovely lady in the gallery today who is trying to rediscover her art after a long period away - I'm guessing kids etc got in the way - hope she returns so I can hear more of her story. There seem to be many of us women in this generation who have questioned not only our position in the home (that I saw described beautifully recently as the 'angel of the house') but also the need to climb the corporate or office ladder for its questionable rewards. Wish her well and hope she pops in again; it is good to cross pollinate ideas and stories.

Back to the studio now to continue on my 'Angel Haven' piece, although I think it may just end up called 'Haven' as it is the boats that are sheltering, not the angel. Coming on well though, fingers crossed; perfect night for it too - rain hammering down and pitch black. Cup of tea time.

Angel Hair

The fig conversations continued today. Is it that thing where you are sensitive to a subject and so notice its recurrence or is it just a big fat coincidence that three people talked to me about figs today. I realise that in the course of selling groceries it is more likely to talk about figs than nuclear physics, but given the wild array of conversations I do end up having in the course of a working day it is actually pretty strange. I did talk about plums as well, but it only brought home to me how strangely unique figs are in the world of fruit. I have never had feelings toward any other edible vegetation to compare with this; I am not sure I could go through with eating one, in the same way meat repulses unless it is disguised (I'm still a veggie at heart and know I will return to the fold one day). I also looked again at the colour of them and it is very hard to verbalise; the amazing green shines through the purple and has wee stripes running through it; all transluscent too.

Great quotes from one of my Facebook friends; one I forget was about the desire to become a tree, which started a flurry of correspondance about the chopping down of loved trees. I am still in mourning for the cherries outside my house and know I will stare again in the spring wondering where the blossom snow has gone; where the pigeon perches once his worn-smooth perch was reduced to sawdust so unneccesarily. The sound of chainsaws haunts me; thank god I am not near a rainforest; I really don't think I could bear it.

Her quote for today was another I love; 'Happy is the man who has learned to hold the things of his world with a loose hand.' -Warren Wiersbe. Very Buddhist, and a very hard one. I have consciously tried to lose things sometimes; old photos of times that will not return, keepsakes and letters that no longer reverberate in my current life. Every now and then I regret having done so, but at the end of the day I would only waste precious time in the 'now' gazing at things from the past with regret and negative emotion. Why waste it?

Finished the mop headed 'Hair' inspired kimono-wearing angel. Still not sure where she came from but I like her now she is done. My oldest chum, who sports a not dissimilar hairstyle can be proud that it is both her hair and her mention of the musical that triggered this particular picture. Might even get used as a Christmas card given the inclusion of snowflakes made in my new 'cake slice' potato print style. I say new; I mean new to me. Doubtless generations of various cultures have used a technique very similar if not identical; maybe not by the same name.

Off with a skip and a jump to the studio tonight to start 'Angel Haven'; the painting named after the exhibition. This one has long been wandering the corridors of my mind, so I hope it will manage to exceed my expectations; I love it when that happens.

How figs feel

I became enamoured of figs today. I have to confess a total lack of knowledge prior to playing with them as they passed me by in the course of my work today and I was transfixed by their loveliness in colour, feel and what they made me think about. Bear with me...

I'm sure I have heard the phrase 'bruised like a fig' at some point in my life and now I understand completely why someone coined the phrase; they are like a soft little living bruise.

The phrase I scribbled at the time was 'startled, organic flesh'. I nearly dropped the thing in surprise; it seemed to have an interior life, to be a living creature in far more ways than a fruit should be. I imagine if I look up figs in the literature of the ancients I will find an array of references; I have memories of their significance in the old civilizations and also in the paintings of yore. The intense, sharp green of the stem surround against the deep, deep purpley-black-green of the body suggest no less than an unfamiliar animal; a little world hiding within like a cell. The fruit is a perfect metaphor for a life, a cell, a universe. I haven't opened or eaten one yet, and I am disturbed by the prospect in the same way as oysters repell me by their aliveness. No eyes looking at me but I am all the same aware of the gaze of a fellow organism, being, creature.

On a more prosaic note, I have been granted liberty to spend my Sunday's in a gallery painting for a living; a truly blissful prospect and long overdue! Very pleased with this arrangement and hope it is the start of a slow descent into a less structured and more creative work time.

Stu has been painting frames furiously all day for the angel show and is so upbeat about it; I knew he had a big fat creative streak just waiting to express itself. It is a joy to see and of course very helpful for me.

Pretty much done with the penultimate angel before I move onto a less structured approach for the second Christmas show; no theme there so I can let my imagination lead me where it will.

The last picture for Angel Haven is to be the title piece; I have been swirling around ideas for an angel/harbour picture since one earlier this year that I called 'The Harbour Arms'. I think at last I have developed the idea to a point that will satisfy me, which the earlier picture didn't; still at sketching phase so we shall see.

The photo of garlic is something I saw while Stu was cooking dinner; in the absence of a fig photo I went for the next best thing as the papery, purple, parchmenty thing that is garlic is also a thing of wonder. Maybe I will buy and eat a fig tomorrow and write about garlic.

Twilight moment

And... breathe. I wish I could put my finger on what makes me have days like yesterday - starting full of promise and without a cloud on the horizon, ending with me gnarled and nagged with worry. One of the reasons I decided to post to the blog every day was because I wanted to make myself work through moods like that and give myself no excuse to cop out and go to bed with 'issues' unresolved. Blog as therapy, if you like.

The swallows and house martins have sneaked away; just as the bats coming out tells me that the light has faded to *ping* that certain point, so the swallows leaving lets me know that the days have reached a crucial stage, the cold is creeping in and the leaves are thinking of turning. The horse chestnuts are off already, always quick off the blocks. For us it is an important turn of the season as we are heading into what will hopefully be the final few months of our frugal year. Talking yesterday though I am unsure that I will ever be able to return to the spending habits of old; I certainly can't envisage forking out £70 for hairstyles when I have had to keep to that as a week's budget...no more highlights unless they come out of a d.i.y. box out of Superdrug.

Spent an entertaining morning tearing pieces out of Sunday supplements and reading an excellent article on the Ballet Russe, whose costumes from the early part of the century are about to go on show. One of their main designers was Bakst, who I have read about but must look up again; they also of course used artists such as Matisse and Picasso, who apparently gave costumiers a nightmare with the translation of their vision from sketch to the stage. Some amazing old photos of the company in costume as well as stunning clothes that have clearly inspired generations of designers. Ended up being quite fashiony with the angel I have been painting; she is a kind of seventies afro-angel in a kimono, which I can blame on my friend Bill first and foremost for mentioning that she was going to see a performance of 'Hair' which popped the image into my head. A bit of reading on costume, fashion and a mental visit to Biba and the rest fell into place. I realise also that there is a picture in my torn-out pile of a girl with flower hair, so I guess that crept into my subconscious too.

The other picture I particularly like from my magazine raiding is a great little woodcut which has rekindled my desire to learn; the only issues I have with the idea are that I think it may mean a move over to different media as I can't imagine it is that easy to clean acrylic off a woodblock, and I am unsure as to whether the blocks will work over paint on board. The answer will be in the pudding, as they (don't) say. Or in the eating, one or the other.

Having another show to work towards has meant that I am once again a few steps ahead of myself in terms of subject; I am already worrying about getting boards for paintings that are just a doodle in a sketch book, a twinkle in an eye. Looks like I am going to be able to take up the offer to paint and gallery-sit on Sundays - I can hardly see it as work, and I am really looking forward to it, even if it means an official six day week. I would do seven just now if I thought it would get me closer to where I want to see myself.

And *boom* in the course of writing we have gone from twilight to pitch black outside; batty-bats no longer visible, if they are indeed out there as usual on their rounds.

Autumn blue

I'm angry with myself tonight because I'm tired and I can't settle to work; Twig is running mad around the house, including in my paint, which she usually remembers to avoid. I'm angry because there is no reason to feel sorry for myself; I have another show to focus on, more paintings to play with and I have spent all day feeling so positive. Why now? The autumn is coming on and the house is cold; kids are being noisy in the street outside which again is unusual.

I feel as if I really need to sleep but want to resolve the bit of painting that I did do; which true to form wasn't working as it is very mood sensitive. I am trying to recall at what point my mood swung from buoyant to deadbeat; why I am shouting at the cat and grinding my teeth to myself in the semi-darkness of my living room. One of the interesting things in reading the blog in retrospect will be to see if these moods are cyclical or whether I am just erratic. I'm going to quit tonight unashamedly and sleep for a few hours, see if the blues go away. Feeling how far we have come since this time last year when it was really like ploughing toffee on Arran and I was wondering if it was worth cutting and running despite being so close to the end. The autumn was beautiful, one of the more stunning times on the island, and I was loving the mornings, birds and hares in the valley and the ins and outs of the ferry under a sky showing the cold.

Can't decide whether this is one of those moments to just get back into the studio and get on with it or whether I actually do need to just settle my head; I have time tomorrow to sort the painting out and it might work easier in daylight.

Saw a great newspaper headline today; 'Boy, 9, cheats death in tree plunge'. Or should that read; 'Boy climbs tree, falls out, walks away'. Must be some quiet news day when a child not injuring itself is on the front page; maybe they'll go for a series and lead tomorrow with 'Girl, 7, avoids fractured ankle while skipping'. Brought to mind immediately the piece in 'The Shipping News' when a basic lesson in headline writing goes something like:

'What do you see, write the headline..'

'Dark clouds fill horizon.'

'No. *Deadly Storm Threatens Village*.'

'But what if no storm comes?'

'*Village Spared Deadly Storm*.'

Three things

Glad I got out of bed this morning; reason one was because I was having a long-winded dream about living in a horrible rented house with millions of young men I didn't know, and Stu, who wasn't there. Bathtubs were filled with brackish water, showers were just attached to the wall with nothing underneath, carpets and furniture filthy... and I was getting drunk on some weird wine I had found in the room when I moved in. I can only assume it is my nomadic years that have left me with these dreams; I have them fairly frequently around the loose theme of living in unsuitable accommodation (sometimes attached to a school) with strangers. As my mother will gleefully tell you, from the age of 18 to about 26 I lived in around 20 different addresses; that'd do it I guess.

The other reason I am glad to be up and about today is that I received an email asking me to exhibit at the very lovely number four gallery in St Abbs in their Christmas show; it is always amazing when someone else asks you to show work rather than the other way around. So... just when the angels were being metaphorically put to bed I find myself itching to get on with new work for this one! Hoping to get four or five pieces for this show now; should be a doddle the rate ideas are developing each from another this year and I am just loving painting right now. Off to look up Printmakers Edinburgh courses in a wee moment as I want to advance the idea of learning woodblocking. Started a new one just before I left for work today (singing Tift Merritt's 'Mixtape' which has been on loop in my head all day) which just burst forth onto the board from nowhere! I have been doodling another double portrait of mortal and angel with shared hair; a blue faced angel I think... and when I started drawing it all went off at a tangent and I harked back to an old sketch of a big-kimono-wearing angel with a very blue background. Looks like this one is going to be very 'printy' and Christmassy so this could be the elusive piece for the show leaftlets. I wanted something wintry and things have been getting progressively more tropical..

Third thing; I also won a book from Birlinn Publishers via a give-away on Facebook. Hurray!

Work also presented a fourth thing as well; my cynical week over (it seems to go in cycles) I felt very 'up' today and was rewarded by some very cheery comments about my hanging baskets. Everyone loves a plant. Also, and potentially the highlight of the day, Fingers (a lovely but mentally lost old customer who may or may not be my angel) decided to come out with a new sentence for me: 'It's hard to believe, but this used to be the Plaza Ballroom!'

What can I say; there's a painting in there somewhere and it's got ballgowns in it...

I'm going to have to do it; there's a good moral in today's blog and I wouldn't be a good Buddhist it I didn't credit it... I woke up to two good things, which meant I was looking for a third. The third came, followed by the fourth...soon I realised how many good things there are to find in each day if you just start counting:)

House bound

Injuries sustained while painting number seventy-seven (it is surprisingly easy you know); the brush swallow. Simple to accomplish, easy for beginners; walk around house with long handled brush in mouth, not concentrating on surroundings and spacial limitations. Pass through doorway with head not entirely turned straight on and hit brush end-on off doorway. Brush shoots into throat causing momentary panic and lack of understanding as to cause of injury.

This time I was lucky and brush stopped on back of palette with a thud; not sure how pleasant it would have been if brush found windpipe. Ouch.

Similar to the feeling I had in London when I walked full face into a plate glass door in the days before health and safety got wind of that one and made everyone put stickers or frosted panels on plain glass doors. Blood, tears... messy, I can assure you. And yes, it was a 'dead posh' shop in Covent Garden that I smeared my nose blood upon and whose immaculate shop assistants had to patch me up again. Ha ha at least that made it kind of funny.

Just finished what is 'officially' the last of my angel paintings; I say official as I had a mental number in my head that I hoped to achieve. The inverted commas are because I went and bought some new board today which I am about to gesso in preparation for new work, and I have a feeling there might be wings involved. Latest one had veered east again, probably due to the lovely pictures I was sent of former colleague Ujjwala's wedding in India; amazing colours, patterns and textiles that have come out in my new angel. Used the 'cake slice' potato print as well which prints up like a wheel (or cake..) to produce a larger scale pattern than is possible with any potatoes I have come across to date. I suppose I could take to hanging out at county shows and nabbing prize winning vegetables for my art; or maybe the growers would be willing to donate? Does make you wonder what they get up to with their mammoth carrots when the show is over.

Twig has been a pesky kitten today showing off her new 'look at me on your easel mummy!' pose, which is not exactly helpful when she is between you and a wet painting; she is also fascinated by the potatoes which I keep in a tupperware box. You can hear her in the studio rolling them around when you are in the kitchen; at least the lid has stayed on so far...

So, we are now into Angel extra time; still quite a while to go before the show so I may end up editing the final cut, or at least keeping some on the reserve bench in case something sells. No idea why I launched into football metaphor there as, for the record, I hate the sport and all associated with it. The show is called 'Angel Haven', reflecting the harbour/port link with Leith harbour and the idea of the angels sheltering in a sanctuary; a gathering or flock.

The Pope is out and about in Edinburgh today so I have been gleefully holed up avoiding the predicted road chaos; although you never know how the public at large will react. As an excuse for a day off it might attract some crowds, but I'm not sure it will be up there with the Festival Cavalcade. Time for tea, and some board preparation for the next pictures.

Angel Haven

Day kicked off in good 'seize the moment' fashion with an early alarm to rouse me for planting duties at cashdayjob, where I had volunteered to create hanging baskets; my input was fifty percent due to my love of planting and fifty to do with the total lack of interest or positivity shown by my fellow staff members. See the trap I fell into there? Negativity about co-workers' negativity. I rest my case; even this calm little centre of the world can be driven to frustration by the collective pessimism of fellow humans.

A fellow human did come bearing gifts, however; a much appreciated charity shop find of a book entitled 'Phantoms and Fairies from Norwegian folklore'. Comes resplendent with a cover fashioned in collage from unknown paper/textile elements depicting a giant smiley bat (who may or may not be wearing a nappy) and a more traditionally depicted witch on broomstick. Inside some of my favourite things; woodblock illustrations, leading me once again to realise that I must shift my ass down to Edinburgh Printmakers post haste and realise my dream of working in this most ancient and fascinating media. I kid not when I say that I think my destiny as an artist lies with the humble print block. I have become obsessed with my potatoes since I discovered their use in my pictures and can only dream of what inner depths will be plumbed when I find how to work a woodblock; I just know I will enjoy it and what places it takes me artistically.

One of the phantoms/fairies in the book that caught my eye straight away is the Nisse. This is mainly because it was my grandfather's nickname; when I was born shortly after his passing his widow remarked 'Just like Nisse' due to my small, wrinkled state. My grandfather was a tiny, smily, wrinkly man in all the photos I ever saw of him, so I can only imagine that he sprang that way from the earth. The Nisse of legend is, funnily enough, a small wrinkly little troll like creature that helps out secretly on the farms of Norway; but get this - 'it was thought that the nisses were the fallen angels that are referred to in the bible'. Woh, I am the grandchild of a fallen angel; doesn't get much cooler than that.

Back down at Ritchie Collins gallery in Leith today where I am soon hopefully going to take up the Sunday 'artist in residence' slot, painting and gallery-sitting from 12-4 on a Sunday. Dream job really, and pure luck as it is only this week that the girl who was set up for it backed out and left the vacancy. Ritchie is very into folklore as well and was mentioning this in relation to my new book, which I was proudly clutching. He loves the story about princes turned into swans; I can never remember the particulars but I know I read and loved it as a child. We were also convening on the subject of our joint show in November; he has another solo show before it so it nose to the grind now to complete work for both; nothing but admiration for the work ethic he has when it comes to painting. I long for the time to spend on it like that; soon, soon...

Title is now decided as 'Angel Haven' which I love for the sound of it and its connotations with the harbour and sanctuary; fits Leith perfectly too. Private view will be November 19th which is also perfect as I am still a big fan of the number nine as it is the most auspicious number in Thailand, a place for which I have a deep affection and fear I will not return to for a few years yet. I am happy with the timescale I have to complete all the work I have in mind for the show, and have just commissioned the frames for the last six pieces; there may be a few more added towards the time limit, but that is the main bulk organised.

This is totally irrelevant but I love the way things crop up when you are looking for something else; watched the film 'Three Burials' last night for the Mexican scenes, which have fantastic colour and light, as well as a great bar with fairy lights and a 'window on the desert' that I love. Watching the credits we realised that one of the characters is played by Levon Helm, who is an amazing 70-something country/americana singer and songwriter whose music we love. Just love the guy's crazy voice and he has one of the best album opening bars in my collection on 'Dirt Farmer.'

Away to paint angels once more, with thoughts of the Norwegian nisse and Mexican fairies intertwining in my mind now that the (stupidly disproportionate) stress of hanging baskets has left it clear for creation!

In the Zone

Reflecting on comfort zones tonight; I had never considered mine until an ex boss pulled me up for not wanting to step outside mine; I was hurt, affronted...I didn't know I had one.

Of course I did and he was perfectly correct; my painting 'Suki's Rubicon is about stepping over that line; her Haiku is:

The line in the sand;

One toe over and all is

Irreversible

(I do like to try and fit a five syllable word as the last line, I have to confess) But anyway; so much of this year has been about stepping over lines and seeing where it leads, to the degree that I have more on my schedules of a week than at any other time since I left college, and then everything on the schedule revolved around social drinking activity and Neighbours, so it hardly counts. If I had to list the things I have achieved in the last year or so that I would have not considered in the year before, it would be quite long; there is an element of the forty-turner about it all, but it is more than that. Once you find the edge of your comfort zone it is amazing how shiny and exciting everything looks on the other side and how you want to keep popping over. I love the bit in the Lord of the Rings when one of the hobbits stops at a certain point in a field and announces that this is the furthest he has ever been away from home - then steps over it and on into who knows what. Courage has something to do with it but not as much as realising that nothing will happen if you don't take the step; sure, you might win the lottery and George Clooney might take it into his head to visit your street and happen to pop in for a cup of sugar, but as likely as not you will stay at square zero. I love my comfort zone as much as anyone; right now I am in my 'comfies' -slippers and dressing gown - hair up, make-up off, cup of tea in had, cats at feet. What I like now is the move I can make away from it to new experiences and discoveries, while still returning to base camp; I am not one of the round-the-world-canoeist types and never will be, but at least now I question my motives when the answer to an invitation is an automatic 'no'. (Having said that, I have also realised the power of judicious use of the word 'no', but that's another story...)

Two opportunities have knocked today, and in some ways they are conflicting; one is not art related and will not further my painting but may help my sanity. The other will help my painting but may make me tired. It's not really a choice is it? As long as the two are not

mutually exclusive its a no brainer; tiredness I can deal with after Twig the wonder kit's insomnia last year.

Figured out a small breakthrough in the potato printing world today in time honoured fashion; saw a print on someone's dress that was based on circle motifs that were decorated in the round like a paper snowflake. Tonight I cut a segment of potato that will produce a circular repeat pattern, using similar leaf and circle motifs from my 'big potato' and 'bunny flower' print. (They all have names, for no other reason than my own amusement.)

Decided to relegate two pictures onto the reserve bench for the Angels show as well, so I am going to get some more board cut and do at least a couple more; presumably along the lines of my fractious fairies as that is what is in my head just now. Buying potatoes is quite funny as I am fussy as to size and shape depending on the print I am thinking of, but it makes me look like the pickiest cook imaginable...

The picture is not 'Suki's Rubicon' but my newest one; 'Harrison Summer' - the companion piece to the first angel I painted, 'Archie's Park', which is the same park, different season. Maybe have to do winter and autumn now...

World and small

Ah, the power of the internet; recently hooked up with a friend in New York via Facebook who I had lost touch with long, long ago but remembered fondly; we now exchange comments and sentiments over the laptop. Just sent her a tip about a Spoon gig in a cakeshop (or potentially
a place called 'cakeshop') in NYC
and she sent back the photo from her mobile; so cool.
She also made me cry a lot the other day with her memories of 9/11; I had forgotten that she would have been there, so close and felt the whole thing so closely. Her words, someone I knew expressing such pain and confusion, really made it real for me at last; no longer something that happened across the ocean.

Bit of a list blog today again aside from this; thinking around the subject of my Mexican fairies and coming up with words to best suit my ideas.

First, however, some notes from cashjobworld. Noticed a new packet of Persil (that's PERSIL) washing capsules, pillows, whatever, called ' Naturals'. On the back of the pack -big f.o. panel with a black cross in it and the warning 'Irritant'. Ah. A Natural Irritant, obviously; gee, must wash my clothes in that and then flush it into the sea.
Second, more comically, I keep misreading things. Maybe my mind is on greater issues, maybe I am lazy. Today I read 'snow covered' on a tin of dog food. It said 'slow cooked'.
(Now I come to think about it, the truth is as stupid as the fiction...)


So; fairies... picture the scene, scenes, scenario.
twiglight
fragile
rhapsody
dusk
tarnished
fractured
tattered
wayward
delinquent
famished
fractious
turbulent
fretful
luminous
And I nearly forgot; one of those ideas that has been on a back burner can now come centre stage (mix 'em baby) - I had the idea when doing the boatman of using Stu as a model for female figures in a kind of transexual or indeterminate gender way; maybe my fairy friends are the cue I've been waiting for!

Fragile Fairies

I feel a seachange; the angels are nearing resolution and my current painting is beginning to lean in a new direction... there are now three quotes on the page of my sketchbook:

'How fragile are our fairylands' - V.S. Naipaul

'Lamplit, vicious fairy land' - Jeremy Hodges

'F****d up Fairyland' - I. Nilsson

Somewhere in the midst of these three is the one I am looking for as a blanket title for the next cycle of work; the sentiment of my quote with a touch more subtlety.

The thought process happened largely at cashmoneyjob today and I quote the list I made on the back of a receipt below as it was a great 'stream-of-consciousness-thought-process' day. The best bit was in the middle when a wee girl walked up to the counter in a 'Tucan (sic, meaning the bird) Hacienda' t-shirt. Woh, now there's a title... I guess I'm moving on from 'Joy Garden Siesta' on a similar line, taken a whole lot weirder and sleazier and transported to Mexico. Now I haven't been to Mexico, but a whole lot of my favourite films have locations there; guess Stu is in for a Mexican season at dinner DVD time. The joys of not having a TV in case you wondered.

Stu has been working some real magic with his frame finishing; layering up paint with far more patience than I can muster and sanding/wire woolling back to create lovely distressed effects, but with amazing polish and shine; they are finished with Briwax and feel amazing. So nice not to feel that a chunk will come off your frame if you tap it on something like I have had happen so many times with commercially finished frames.

We are going to work the framing thing into a larger business idea over the winter; I have a pretty good idea where we are going now and it involves me and Stu sharing a workshop; can't wait to get the soundtrack building up in there. It will be good to work together again too as we are an ace team and just have fun; I've missed the banter working in the 'real world' with strangers.

So; the thought process that started today:

fairylights, on trees

aloe vera plants Deathproof - Chartreuse

Three Burials Painted desert - Cowboy Junkies

window on the desert Frida Kahlo

Santanica Pandemonium Titty Twister

Cartier Bresson prostitutes Jet trails mackerel skies

prickly pears gecko hibiscus

Groups of ladies in tablecloth dresses 21 Grams wedding

Tucan Hacienda Flamingo Cantina

Fuschia Furnace wind Kahuna boys

Floribunda red-black hair monumental women

time stretching to the horizon All the Pretty Horses

A small, deep breath

A 'day off' today; decided to try and calm down my schedule a little as I am finding myself constantly tired and out of sorts which is no good for my painting! I find it hard to 'paint to order' and while I think the discipline of drawing and painting every day is inherantly good for my work it doesn't have to be every available minute. I am off to the studio this evening but just to do some bits and pieces; I am essentially nearing the end of the Angels project and can let my work lead me where it will after that.

Looked at a couple of great artists who I have bumped into on Facebook; Anna Silivonchik and Polly M. Law, the first from Russia and the latter from the U.S. Not a million miles away from each other in subject and style, both touching on what I do. Anna creates a whole universe from her head of folky, quirky figures, landscapes, happenings; all very narrative and almost verging on (very good) children's book illustration. Polly constructs doll-like mannequins from board with articulated joints and a slightly sinister edge; again in a narrative mould, the feeling that stories lurk behind every character waiting to be discovered or invented. I love the project she has on her website which is a kind of gazeteer illustrating rare and interesting words; her little people and creatures bringing each to life and giving a unique perspective to each.

Some other words that grabbed me today were from Stu's mum, found in an article in the Evening News on Robert Louis Stevenson. The piece was based on a new book by Jeremy Hodges which 'lifts the lid' (if you will excuse the appalling journalistic cliche) (whole blog to be had from those) on the seedy underworld life of the writer and his visits to ladies of ill repute in the old town. Those writers, eh...bad as artists! The book title, and source of my interest is 'Lamplit, Vicious Fairy land'; oh so visual and on so full of illustrative and narrative potential. Couldn't help but mentally add the tag-line 'F****d up Fairies' which is the direction my imagination took me; Absynth swigging Bohemian Parisian fairies (or angels) sprung to mind... Similar to another quote I loved a couple of months ago; V.S. Naipaul's 'How fragile are our Fairylands'. Somehow I think it unlikely that I will be deserting the subject of angels any time soon.

Anna Silivonchik has a great quote on her website, which by now is no doubt a great misquote as it has been from English to Russian and back via a Google translation;

'There are only two ways to live your life. The first as if miracles do not happen. The second, as if everything is a miracle.' Einstein (or so it is credited)

Hoping to get in a show at the Dean Gallery which I noticed while at Stu's mums house; always a good place to find things in newspapers. I had totally failed to notice a show at the Dean Gallery on the Surrealists; given my recent wanderings on the subject and interest in seein their work this is very timely. Includes work by the English surrealists, of whom I know nothing, and many of the familiar names from Europe. Kind of hoping for some lesser known pieces which would be really interesting and good for a few surprises; always enjoy going to the Dean as well, it feels like a day out popping over the Water of Leith and into another little world. I have always liked that about Edinburgh, the little pockets of neighbourhoods, each with a different and unique profile and character.

Heavenly mackerel sky tonight and the promise of autumn. For us this year a new promise comes with the darker months; a year of tight budgeting drawing to a close and new challenges to be realised. Much work to be done over the winter sowing the seeds of the next ten years. No pressure then... Wrote the title and remembered the other bit of good news this autumn; Twig the wonder kit has finally accepted the concept of my meditation without yowling her disapproval at my inactivity/lack of attention; it means I have to meditate at the computer desk in the bedroom, as for some reason she has developed the habit of settling at my feet when I work there. Who cares, at least I can go back to it now, it has been impossible ever since we adopted her!

The steady march

I was just thinking about one of the original inspirations for my daily blog, which was Julie Powells' blog and cooking marathon following the entire French cookbook of Julia Child. Thinking of it because on some days, such as this one, it is a monumental effort to make the blog post at all, inspiration has left the building and all I want to do is retire to bed with a cup of tea and a sketch book. Imagine all this and following increasingly complex recipes too; I have to hand it to her. As I was leaving cashdayjob today someone asked me 'anything planned tonight?' in a general conversational way and I found myself chuckling as the above mentioned indulgence was as good and it got and if the truth be known, as good as it ever gets at the moment! We do manage the odd social occasion but I am a bit more of a luncher than a dinnerer; take the consumption of alcohol out of the equation and there is many a reason why early afternoon is a far better time to consume food and conversation. For one thing I no longer function in an articulate way after 6.30pm, and I have become a nest bird without even batting an eyelid. When I was first in Scotland one of its appealing characteristics was the opportunity to socialise (drink) at all hours, moving deftly from club to crazy all-night eaterie to early opener on Leith Walk; when my mum came to visit I would tuck her up in the B&B and head off in a taxi to hook up with some mates in a club or bar, leaving her puzzled as to my dreary state of mind in the morning. Had a few laughs to myself of late reading the Facebook posts of a grown up and reformed debaucher extrodinaire, who has in the last week mentioned the words 'gardening', 'gym', 'pizza and TV' and 'memory foam mattress (new)' more than I imagine ever in the time I was working with him. Endearing it is too, and reassuring that there are harder partying animals out there who have felt the lure of the soft slipper and the cosy chair. So strange, however, how it comes to us all despite all our earlier protestations; our 'hope I die before I get old' long forgotten, we spend our time finding reasons why we are not like our parents and huffing at the suggestion that we have ever been any other way. As every teenager thinks they have invented sex, music and angst, so we now pat ourselves on the back for discovering the joys of opting out, settling in for the night and thinking about home baking. Unless, of course, you are Iggy Pop, but even he has left the fold and made an insurance commercial; and Alice Cooper plays golf...??!

And to close a couple of Haiku I wrote one day last spring in Glasgow; they fit the mood..

Coffee take-away

Sitting in Sauchiehall Street;

Admiring churches

With her fruit trolley,

Old lady in Birkenstocks

Reminds me of me

List monger

I tend to scribble lists continually, useful ones for shopping and organisation of day, and now slightly surreal ones concerning ideas for blog. Here's one I made this morning post wake-up but pre shower; never my best time...

Waitressing dreams, controlling anxiety, feelings of inadequacy transformed, connecting with people, not living in the future, working and living together, partnerships, friends reconnected, past relationships analysed from distance, excellent risotto, new painting ideas.

The excellent risotto I can deal with from a distance of some twelve hours, the rest I may leave as a memo for another day. As yesterday was one of our tighter budget moments due to the purchase of a new iron, I searched the cupboards to stretch out our pennies... found a tub of chicken stock in the freezer, some dried Chinese mushrooms which I soaked in the (defrosted) stock, some cooking chorizo, onions, risotto rice, our lovely herb oil and a selection of frozen vegetables. And some feta cheese. The secret to risotto in my humble opinion is to keep it simple but keep the ingredients good and flavours punchy; hence the chorizo. One of my all time favourite ingredients, with its blend of oils, spices and smokiness it can sneakily transform many a stew, rice dish or tortilla into something more than the sum of its parts, and a little goes a long way. Fried up the onion and garlic gently for a while, added chopped chorizo and raw risotto rice; cooked to soak up flavours and oil. Added mushrooms and some stock, simmered on and kept adding stock until the rice had absorbed all it was going to; then popped in baby broad beans and peas from the freezer. Heated through and finished with herb oil and crumbled feta; my comfort food heaven.. Saw a good looking recipe for pork meatballs with sweet chilli and lemongrass; must find it again long enough to write out the basics as anything involving mince is a budget winner!

Spoke to my mum tonight after a week's break as she has been driving around the country visiting people and painting, photographing, eating scones (my future, I imagine...). I have been toying with breaking the news to her that we are thinking of finally setting up our own business next year but have been wary of worrying her in such financially uncertain times. Why do we do that? Forty something years and I still treat my mother with kid gloves and woefully misread her ability to absorb change; finally blurt out my intentions and she replies 'Oh, that's a good idea, I've always thougth you'd be good at that. Did I mention Joan's new patio?'....

Of all the items on my outlined list for the day, two shall make the cut; waitressing dreams are always a sign of stress in my mind, especially when I am no longer waitressing. I must pay heed to this and make a concerted effort not to do absolutely everything at once or attempt to. Which brings me to point two; try not to live in the future. My default setting is to hurtle through days pushing aside and ticking off tasks that take me closer to my elusive future utopia; note to self - stop and smell the metaphorical roses, and there may be less of the waitressing dreams...

Now, list for tomorrow:

Gathering Angels

Had an excellent idea in the shower today and then pondered on the fact that so many excellent ideas seem to come to me in the shower. Opened the shower door and facing me are the words 'Angels gather here'. Sppooky... it is a little wooden angel I bought years ago and she had the words written on her tummy. But hey! What if that actually is a little marker that guides the angels to their pow-wow points in the world? The narrative continues.

The excellent idea was to do with Stu's growing confidence with his framing ideas; he has been working with layering different paints and sanding/wire woolling down to create a lovely patina, finishing with Briwax. The end product is so, so much better than the finishes you get on commercially produced frame mouldings. I have suffered so much chipping and scuffing of bad paint finishes on frames I have paid an arm and a leg for... these are going to be so much better and have the added benefit of being able to colour to order. The idea was to use a pair of angel's wings as decoration on the fronts, or as a 'signature' on the back of the frame; been cutting potato this morning, but realise the need for a 'real', permanent print block for constant use.

He is looking at using the paint layering and reworking on furniture too; can't wait to see the first sample piece which is to be the wooden kitchen-block trolley thing that we have in the living room.

My day was a little quiet; I am really tired and needed a bit of a slow time of it. Knees and head particularly playing up, but I have been on non-stop work and think mode for a few months now, forever giving myself a hard time for slowing up or failing to meet personal deadlines. Now I have started to feel as if the end of this particular phase is in sight; nearly there with the 'main' paintings for the angel show - perhaps two or three to go and one of those is already in progress. After that I can play with a few smaller pieces and maybe even some handmade postcards; liked the way it felt to work faster and smaller on the cards for the 'Art off the Rock' show and so that is something to explore in October. Decided not to make the trip north to Gairloch which is gutting as I had totally set my heart on a couple of days away, talking art, waking up in a crazy hut by the sea... alas not to be on this occasion - funds tighter than we had anticipated and looking out for upcoming expenses on car and framing. Also couldn't get the time I wanted off my cashmoneyjob and can't really afford to piss them off just now.

Looking forward to taking a slightly more measured approach to things, but somehow I don't think this is going to happen; I have that feeling, rightly or wrongly, that if I take my foot off the gas it could all evaporate into thin air.

Three days on the Isle of Skye in October is still on as she has booked it all and I am actually so up for it as long as we don't end up fighting over stupid stuff; usually computers and photography which she seems to have wedged in her head as a permanent issue. Don't even ask. I just think maybe I should take my little wooden angel with me and hang it from the rear view mirror for the duration.