Messages on the wind

to the weir

Dear Reader,

I hope you are okay. Before I sat down to write to you, I opened the window to let in the crisp morning air and I said good morning to the moon.

Earlier this week, I walked by the water of Leith on slick yellow leaves, mud, and cobbles, and found myself at the foot of my favourite tree, seeking refuge. I breathed in the damp earth and sent messages on the wind.

process

Last weekend, I managed to paint, but I couldn't focus. I washed my brushes, looked at my previous work, and pushed some paint around. It's all part of the process and practice. I am reminded of this repeatedly.

On a rare Wednesday off work, I met my friend Julia for a day of art in the city. We saw the following exhibitions: * = personal highlights

RSA Academicians Gallery: Toby Paterson RSA

Scottish Gallery: *Modern Masters XIX, *Rachel Larkins - Raising Ghosts, Lachlan Goudie - From the Forest to the Forge

Open Eye Gallery: Adrian Wiszniewski RSA, Jonathan Gibbs, Alex Malcolmson and select artists from the gallery (*David Schofield RGI)

Graystone Gallery: Boundless Motion: Land & Form - Astrid Leeson & Sophia Pauley and select artists from the gallery

Rachel Larkins' jewellery exhibition at the Scottish Gallery was magical and enchanting, with plenty of favourite pieces. The Modern Masters XIX exhibition has some wonderful Joan Eardley pieces among other standouts.

At the Open Eye Gallery, David Schofield's piece, This Mortal City, appeared illuminated from within and was captivating with its dreamlike narrative.

down stockbridge way

Thursday was mostly a blur, but that brings us to today's exhibition, or rather, experience.

Leith School of Art: *Jessica Wolfson - Rain, I don't mind

On my way home this afternoon, I popped into Leith School of Art. And by popped in, I mean I interrupted a group of women chatting in front of the school, and asked if I could go inside to see the exhibition advertised on the fence. They buzzed me in and then left me to it.

Once I entered the space, the familiar art school smell overwhelmed me in the best way. The natural light, white walls, and spareness of it all felt like home. I continued through the space following Wolfson's paintings through an entryway to the school's small library as the exhibition continued. I turned to look at the wall of art books and felt a catch in my throat as a beautiful stained glass window caught my eye. I took a postcard with course offerings and then let myself out. I waved my thanks to the group as I made my way off the small campus.

Back on the road, my soul absolutely ached - it had recognised itself within those walls. The old Norwegian Seaman's church turned art school was calling after me, "come back... you've lost your way - please, come back..."

As tears welled up in my eyes, I heard the old building loud and clear.
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Until next week, keep listening.

With love and gratitude.

X.