Lost in Ponder

I had a cuddly panda when I was small; it was very large and I called it Ponder (the Panda...) which was, and still is, one of my favourite words. Today ended up being a ponder day because Stu is in hospital having an operation and the Chilean miners are being popped to the surface in the Phoenix II one by tantalising one. You get so used to reading about disasters and rescues gone wrong that it is truly uplifting to see something work out so right; I have been checking in on the footage all day on the internet just to see the moments of relief and utter joy. And yes, being me, having a wee tear to myself.

Finished a big picture today that was one of those fun ones; just came about from start to finish in a day with very little preparation and thougth. Spontenaity itself. Started life as a very beguiling photo of a friend being very Swedish with a floral headdress; mutated into what I am told looks more like me (although they didn't see the original inspirational photo). Brings back to mind a conversation with another artist who suggested that we all end up using ourselves as a model half the time and just tweaking it so it doesn't totally resemble us; how true. Given how autobiographical art often is, especially in my case, and no wonder I end up a shadowy presence in many of my figurative works.

A bit annoyed with myself today as the pondering is holding up some valuable painting time; I expect my mind is not quite on the game today as it is inevitable that it should spend some time doing the worst case scenario thing with regards to hospitals and general anaesthetic. Not a cheery experience having to be the one at home waiting, but I am quite sure it is less cheery being the one under the knife. Started a picture essentially of Skye; back to boats and conical mountains with some stringed fish (surprise) and one of my lovely kimonoed ladies. No wings this time, as I am slowly shaking off the angels. The flower-headed one, 'Ange Entier' has wings because it kind of suited her and she is so pagan, mythical and in-your-face that wings seemed somehow natural; she can therefore find herself in one of two shows, as she is not part of the angel show as conceived, but could slot in happily dependant on how everything looks. Or she could go to St Abbs, as I do rather like her and think she might look quite strong on her own with less angelic company.

I guess I should get the potato prints out and start putting pattern to picture in the studio; that is bound to prompt the phonecall to collect my boy. Probably when I am at my most messy, paint everywhere and cats prowling around threatening to step on palettes... Answered the door earlier and spend ten minutes chatting to a charity guy, then realised I had left a whole pan of cool chicken stock exposed on the stove - the good wee girls had gone nowhere near it and were lurking about the hall wondering what I was up to. Lucky really or Stu's convalescent soup might have gone awry.