Many little friends

The tiredness continues to build up like a mass of water ready to burst a dam, or like a mass of tiredness threatening to make me fall asleep in a narcoleptic way a la Moulin Rouge's Argentinian. (Do we ever learn his name?) Picked up Stu from his day's grind at 12.30am, bed at around two and up at seven to deliver him back to feed the x-thousand all over again, Festive Smile in place. Actually, he's lucky being in the kitchen far from the necessity of Festive Face; as front of house person I was always the one who had to keep smiling in the face of adversity or appalling manners.

And so to painting... dropped Stu off in the rain on Lothian Road for his token walk to clear the head and see some daylight, then back to start on the next three little boxes (pictured). Spent a couple of hours on them at home and then dressed somewhat randomly, including a scarf and both tights and socks and set out through flood and pestilence to Leith. Had a pretty quiet day in the gallery but finished the 'wee three' and another 8 x 8 inch canvas, still plugging away at the leaf headed angels. I have never had such a persistence of subject before, but each new picture seems to teach me more new things and take me to new places with paint and faces. It is an odd but essentially very productive exercise and so I am running with it. Until someone screams 'no more', especially if it is Ritchie afraid that his gallery may become infested by small leafy angels. 'Ingrid's angel friends' the label says.

Flicked idly through the Taschen 'Portrait' book on returning (with Stu, picked up en route blissfully early) and found the interesting Da Vinci grotesque woman that was also 'done' by Quentin Massys and inspired the Duchess in the original illustrations of Alices adventures in wonderland. And, if I am not mistaken, appears in a wee pencil sketch of Ritchie's that I found among paints in the gallery. Naturally I have now further removed the image by doodling my own 'angel' version, which takes the lady younger and wingier but with prettier face and hair. The wing/shoulder thing is also a plagarism of sorts, from an outfit I saw in Grazia on one of the more outlandish couture dressers of the world whose name I forget but I'm sure she works for Japanese Vogue. Keep up.

Excited tonight as Braewell Gallery answered in the affirmative to the invite to mine and Ritchie's show, and they are just opening a new gallery on Dundas Street... must get over to have a look-see. Can't make the opening itself but will have a shifty next Saturday; excellent.

Bad tired

While on Arran last year working diabolically long days without pause, I coined the term 'silly tired' to define the condition of being so tired that it is, well, silly; able to fall asleep in the blink of an eye and living in a kind of dream world with a perma-headache. I am sure the parents of the world will associate this condition with small children, but believe me, the catering industry can replicate these effects in the comfort of your own body especially if you lose all your staff and gain a kitten.

The reason I refer to this feeling today is because I am under the influence of a strange side effect of silly-tired, which is the need to keep multitasking in the face of exhaustion and prolong the work experience as long as is humanly possible before collapsing. It is as if a strange force takes hold of me and I am no longer in rational control of the projects I am carrying out. Today I managed a rota misfunction and arrived at work at seven of the a. m. having arisen at half of the five. Then discovered that I was an hour and half early, that my shift was actually nine and not four hours long, and that the evil early wake-up will have to be repeated next Saturday, when the shift is actually scheduled. I remained the calm little centre of the universe but a few words of an un-docile nature were whispered inwardly. Having 'lost' the hours of the afternoon in which I had planned to visit IKEA for small household items including a new bathmat and a lamp, clean areas of the house and install these items, paint three box canvases and make dinner, I have been attempting to fit them into the hours of evening which were earmarked for sitting on a sofa under a cat in the light of the new lamp reading a book and possibly snoozing. And so continues silly-tired and its evil cycle of exhaustion, forever feeding off itself and closing down opportunities for restorative slumber.

But enough already; I still have three box canvases to paint and its already half of the seven.

Good crazy

This is not one of my days for writing epic posts or thinking deep thoughts; will settle for a quick synopsis and a small anecdote. Anecdote first, to get it out the way as really it falls into the 'had to be there' category. Having wandered away from my post in cashdayjob, I rushed back to serve a customer that had appeared and was waiting alone and sad. As I appeared, he 'shushed' me and said 'Listen to that noise'... long pause...'The Daleks are coming'. I love the public sometimes, always out to trick you with their crazy little ways....

Great morning feeling like I was at the heart of a little enterprise; emailing out flyers to contacts and galleries, ordering business cards which are my first ever, so that is cool and I am really looking forward to playing with them. Not, obviously, in an 'American Psycho' kind of way, but I missed having one in the eighties so feel as if I am catching up at last. Also send pics out for Ritchie Collins website, to accompany the show, and thought about but didn't quite get around to changing and updating other websites I appear on to make them tie in and look a bit more relevant to my current work.

Caught up with an old friend/colleague tonight as well so another invite to send just now. I am suffering from private view phobia; the only two I have had thus far were pretty underwhelming so my expectations are mighty low. Hopefully this will be a positive thing as any visitors or positive happenings will be amplified; I do really hope that we get some interest though as it has been a long haul getting it all together in the face of financial shit and too little time!

Cross fingers and toes, breathe deep and keep firing out the emails and flyers.

Helan och Halvan

Learnt this new and crucial bit of Swedish today; I have a small Swedish friend who calls me 'Half' in reference to my half breed status, with myself of course calling her 'Whole'. Now I find from another of our countryfolk that in the motherland, Laurel and Hardy go by the name 'Helan och Halvan' - whole and half, and so we have a precedent! Great title, there must be a painting in there somewhere...

While I am thinking of lost in translation moments, I had another great misreading today - I keep seeing words wrong on posters, cars products etc. which I am convinced is the beginning of the onset of some form of premature dementia (or I am being lazy). I read 'Pouncing yogurt'; the packaging actually said 'Pouring yoghurt'. I love the idea of a yogurt pouncing...scary breakfast that would be:)

Relishing my newly moved-about living room tonight; I am amazed at how different and roomy it seems and truly stunned that we haven't moved anything for about five years - I used to be the queen of the remodel, moving my rooms around every six months or so. Must have got old and comfy in my surroundings. Having said that, this is fast coming close to being the longest I have stayed in one house.. ever!! Only a few years to go and I have overtaken my house of childhood, and ever since then I have averaged something awful which I imagine is under a year per house; I blame the nomadic blood on my father's side. There must be something in it as I also have a total fascination with tents and would more than happily sleep outside regularly if convention and location allowed. Roger Deakin, writer, naturalist, conservationist, all-round good egg (sadly now deceased) used to sleep regularly in a railway carriage on his land; sooooo jealous. Just to be totally alone and to hear all the noises and see all the light changes away from the electric power; bliss. I used to love the sound of rain on the flat roof of my bedroom as a child and thought that was the best thing about my room; that and the fact that it was at the other end of the bungalow from everyone else; the loner in me was already in place....

Looking at getting some business cards done for my artistic life; spent my dayjobday thinking about it today and mentally designing things; also coming up with yet more leaf-headed angels for the little box canvases. I never expected to enjoy doing this many multiple paintings for commercial gain alone; but then the fact is that, despite these all being for sale for Christmas, I love every one of them as I do it and have seriously contemplated hanging onto a few for the house! Part of the remodel of the living room is also to do with getting some of our Vietnam paintings and work by other artists up; it is going to be one cool gallery in there soon and that will be great just to sit in and relax, read, think. I love what we have gradually made of our funny little house/flat, which I only bought out of necessity as it was pretty much all we could afford. Somehow it has become pretty much all we want. Not a bad thing at all being skint for two years as it happens; probably the most positive and educational thing that could have happened to us.

A short, sweet day

Miraculously, a clear and beautiful day greeted us this morning, following a particularly dismal spell of early darkness and rainy days. Both of us at liberty today, so had a packed schedule of domestic chores and art-related visits and shopping to attend to; buying box canvases from Ritchie and bubble wrap and hanging hardware from our friendly neighbourhood out-of-town superstore. First thing we had attended to the first batch of paintings heading for the gallery - putting on hooks and figuring out measurements and prices. No rest for the creative with a part time job; the cats and Stu had me wide awake at 7.30am drinking some very pleasant Brazilian coffee that a pal had brought back from his homeland.
Despite having an organised and productive day, even washing the car (Stu) and pruning garden shrubs (me) in the dying light of the afternoon, I felt weirdly unsettled and stressed today. Maybe all the focus on show-related chores is giving me butterflies; this is a lot of my work about to go up on show, and it has been a long time in creation. I try not to worry about it and think myself into disappointment ahead of time, but it is hard. Rearranged the living room this evening which helped lift my mood and as we give up the ghost for the night I am finally coming back together.
Also saw the proof of the show invite, which is exciting and I can't wait to get it out there...

Frownlines

Met a great baby in the course of my working day who was really thoughtful; he just had one of those faces with very mobile eyebrows and already developing baby frownlines.. all the while I was in contact with him you could see all kinds of thoughts and emotions fleeting across his wee face. His dad commented that he is probably set for an unhappy life; 'It's no good to think that much, only leads to bad places'. He's probably part right and part wrong; I have had my frownline fixed between the brows for as long as I can remember and the main reason I started meditation was to 'turn down the noise in my mind' in the words of Carly Simon.

It always strikes me as odd and amusing that some sections of the population see this as a flaw and inject chemicals into their own flesh to erase the telltale signs of thinking and ageing; these are two of my favourite things. I don't think I would be able to cope for long in the cashmoneyjob if I didn't spend my entire time plotting, daydreaming, scheming and sketching in my mental drawing book; I don't think I could do any of this with an immobile face. I've ranted about it before so I shan't repeat the exercise, I just find it unbelievable that people should seriously equate immobile brows to happiness; who worked that equation out?

I'm hoping the wee boy with his mobile eyes earns himself a Nobel prize one day and can return to his father and say 'So; what's wrong with thinking too much??'

Annoyed today (and thus, no doubt, frowning) because I was all fired up to do some more multiple box canvas painting and the slack s.o.bs at the art shop hadn't got any canvases in stock. Pah. So I i will have to make do with the one I have left and do some more work on the big board that I promised myself I would leave alone until I had done a bunch of box canvases.

Ho hum.

Mary Shelley

Feeling like the Frankenstein creator tonight - why? I have created a monster... discovered that it is humanly possible to work eight hours in a supermarket, return home and create three wee box canvas paintings of which I am very proud. What does this mean? That I am about to discover new depths of fatigue as I throw myself hellbent into the last few weeks before Christmas shows open and maximum small painting sales can be envisaged. My legs and left arm are actually wobbly, although that is probably due to my lifelong and unshakeable crazy ways of sitting when painting. My sitting on feet era is over due to the cumulative abuse finally making my knees cry for mercy, but I still manage to 'perch' in ludicrous ways on my little chair, feet on tippy toes and butt-cheeks balanced perilously over thin air. I never notice until I stand up either, or pause to find a masking tape ball to throw for Twig the wonder kit, who will otherwise start making off with my brushes or digging in my paint box to get attention... the only time I really scream is when she actually jumps up on the easel and that is more because I am seeing vivid pictures of acrylic paint coating every surface of the house. She has managed to add her little signature to a couple of pictures by sliding down them on her way down the easel; she does it so quickly I don't get a say-so...

So another three little angels are sitting waiting to head off into galleries soon. I am actually feeling kind of euphoric but stupid as I feel that I am learning more from these paintings than I have in the rest of the year put together. What I really mean is that the cumulative lessons are finally coming to fruition and I am beginning to loosen up much more than I have previously found able to do. And on canvas too, which I have never thought of as my surface of choice. The big fat lesson, of course, is to kick all preconceptions into touch when you approach a new work, surface, medium, whatever, and let the painting lead you. Muck about, relax and see what is possible, not making decisions about things before you have had a go...

I am just pleased that things are starting to flow a little easier from my brush and pencil; I have spent my entire life wanting to find a way to capture the images in my head - it drove me to tears as a child and probably as an adult too. Now, gloriously, each day seems to bring me a little closer to the elusive angel.

More monsters tomorrow:)