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| Andrew Wyeth, "Airborne," 1996, Tempera on panel |
What can I say, my mind is not exactly here. I am not that focused on art either (even though I did have four pieces documented, varnished, and I painted the sides of the canvases in order to ship them off tomorrow (more on that soon).
My studio is also still mostly tidy from last Sunday's Open Studio event (thanks to everyone who attended). I also installed another set of shelves in the studio (found on the street of course) for my canvas storage. So, I have been getting some things organised and moving ever forward.
I have been trouble sleeping, waking up at 3am most nights this past week, very excited about moving to our new place. We got the keys to our wee fisherman's cottage on Thursday.
I am not sure how we decided on this place, I think it was imminent homelessness nipping at our heels. We saw it all of ten minutes and it was in a bit of a state, nothing I would usually want to live in but at the same time it had "something" many places did not, a feeling that a potential metamorphosis could take place with a bit of care and vision. We saw it at 10:30 in the morning last Thursday and by 2:30 that day it was reserved for us. It's only 15 minutes away by bus to the part of town I know and love most, and we are technically still in Edinburgh, so I need not worry but trust in the only constant, change.
When we got the keys, I was very excited to walk through it again while the workers were giving it a fresh lick of white paint. I sat on the carpeted floors and looked out the windows. I stood on the concrete of the back patio and rejoiced that I had a place where my feet could touch the earth. I imagined all sorts of scenarios, pots of soup and cups of tea, and a meditation on the wee beach across the road. How will living in this new space and community affect my painting? Only time will tell. Perhaps, we all need to move every four years, to shake off the old ways and start again.
"We sail today
Tears drown in the wake of delight
There's nothing like this built today
You'll never see a finer ship in your life
Along the way
The sea will crowd us with lovers at night
There's nothing like this built today
You'll never see a finer ship
Or receive a better tip in your life..."
I think we have found a fine ship...
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I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
ReplyDeleteAnd all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
So pleased for you xx
Thank you! I loved this comment, but was in the thick of it and couldn't respond. Thanks again. xx
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