Wherever you go, there you are

September is here. Autumn approaches. 

I can't say that I am exactly ready for it. Time moves so quickly and I am not looking forward to the short, darker and wet days. 

I have to borrow inspiration. I can feel that seasonal new beginning feeling around the edges of things if I close my eyes and try (like making a wish on a birthday cake). Like the best parts of a "back to school" montage from my youth. A time of reinvention. Every autumn I tried to be someone else - I believed it was as easy as changing your hair and makeup while trying to emulate a Benetton or Espirit advertisement from my Seventeen magazine. It never worked and the weird, old soul, new waver/art-punk kid emerged after a few weeks.

Wherever you go, there you are.

I am sort of ready to get clear on what that weird, old soul, new waver/art-punk now squarely middle-aged woman needs right now in her life, in her work and in her community. I am thinking the next 6 months may need to be radical and filled with hard work and deep truths. 

I haven't been painting much lately - mainly because I feel that I have exhausted the home studio capabilities. I am ready to "fuck shit up" with paint and I can't do that in a rented house. Also, I have a perfectly good studio just waiting for me. It's so complicated. The studio costs money, getting to the studio costs money, covid is still out there (public transport). Making art costs money and I have a studio full of completed paintings just waiting to find homes. Art sales have slowed to a stop and it almost feels decadent to paint more things to store, document, and archive. I have been quite down about it. I wrestle with the whole point of this art thing. The market is saturated, everyone's work starts to look the same, and social media can feel like a cornucopia of shite. 

However, regardless of my feelings, opportunities keep showing up and I am prepared for them and this is a good thing. 

Helensburgh Art Hub

Dalkeith Palace

Solo Gallery

And a visit to Bannockburn House as a potential venue for the Abstractionistas collective. Enjoy the latest Tuesday Studio Video Visit if you missed it. 

 

I am honoured to be a Ko-Fi ambassador and feel truly supported by the Ko-fi platform. I will be launching my membership tiers in the coming days with lots of wee treats and rewards for my ko-fi friends when you become a monthly supporter. I am excited to be getting that in order. 

Don't forget I also sell my small works and prints exclusively through my Ko-fi Shop.

I am learning new skills, networking and trying to get clear.

I've been hitting the yoga mat more regularly again and soon, I will be out exploring on more walks (as I do walk more in the autumn and winter here in Scotland to make sure I get the light and nature I need). 

I even have an idea for a future body of work so that is a good sign. 

This is such a weird gig. Being a painter is like putting on ill-fitting clothes, all the seams are wrong and it's been cut strangely but you still love them, even though you can't lift your arms or sit. 

This is my blog, my space, my truth and my feelings and there is nothing to fix. 

Bring on the soup, the cosy jumpers, the long walks, the plans, the dreams, and especially the "fucked up" art. 

Let's get radical.

Thanks for being here.

The practice of being human

 Today is the start of the New Year. 2021

Last night:

Six bonfires on the wee beach, laughter and chatter in the distance, the moon and stars above, waves lapping in the background. Counting down minutes, watching the local fireworks displays all around and hearing the ships’ horns bellow at midnight.

I walked 116.30 miles in December. I have not been painting much since I completed my most recent small works on paper. But I have been walking. I think walking is becoming a part of my practice now. The practice of being human, the practice of meditation, practice of being an artist, practice for being in this world and walking through all the events of these strange days.

The pavement is my guide, the birds and trees are my friends. One step forward and then another. The sun holds my hand. I breathe into nature’s embrace. Ever thankful.

There is time for everything and for new ways of being and seeing. Soon I will paint again. Happy New Year, May you be safe, happy, and healthy. 

Thanks for stopping by.