Celebration, memory, and world building

I will make a new world with your rubbish

It's my Birthday weekend here at the Studio Blog. 

I think I started celebrating last Friday with my "Good Morning" painting as it was a wonderful gift to myself in action and result. I have enjoyed being greeted by my painting each morning since. 

On Tuesday I spent all day in my garden tackling an ancient vine because I was inspired by a piece of discarded fencing that had been catching my eye for months. I had a vision and knew what I needed to do. There is nothing I like more than finding something discarded and creating a new world and home for it. It is the ultimate thrill and mix of creativity and gumption. I ended up reworking my whole garden due to someone's rubbish. Both the day in the studio painting something full of joy for myself out of an "old bastard" of a painting and creating a pot stand out of someone's rubbish are examples of decisive action and world building. Two things that I thrive on and want more of. A great way to celebrate my life and understanding of how I best operate within it. 

Paul Gauguin, Vision of the Sermon (Jacob Wrestling with the Angel), 1888

Continuing on the themes of celebration and world building, I took myself out to the National Gallery of Scotland on a quiet Wednesday morning. I decided to take my time and scan several of the audio descriptions of the works around the gallery. I enjoyed being still and listening to various scholars tell me the hidden insights of the paintings in the collection over my earbuds. It was a luxurious treat to really look at the paintings with new purpose and fresh eyes. 

I especially enjoyed the audio descriptions of the following pieces: 

Leonardo da Vinci, The Madonna of the Yarnwinder, about 1501
Attributed to Grifo di Tancredi, The Death of St Ephraim and Scenes from the Lives of the Hermits, About 1280 - 1290

Diego Velázquez, An Old Woman Cooking Eggs, 1618

Sir Anthony van Dyck, The Lomellini Family, about 1625 - 1627
Vincent van Gogh, Orchard with Apricot Trees in Blossom, Arles, 1888

Paul Gauguin, Vision of the Sermon (Jacob Wrestling with the Angel), 1888

I highly recommend the self-guided audio tours. 

Later that day I was surprised with a lovely art opportunity (more on that later, but it felt like a birthday gift in itself.) 

Dad in the 1970s, Charcoal on cardboard

On Thursday, it was the one year anniversary of my father's death. I listened to Dave Bruebeck. I thought of my father and meditated on our relationship and it felt very meaningful and cathartic. I spent some time looking at photographs and studying his face and decided that I wanted to draw him. It was such a good and meaningful way to spend time together again. The tears and memories flowed. I love and miss you, Dad. 

54

For my birthday on Friday, I had a lovely day out with my dear friend Julia. There was sunshine and a lovely walk up Calton Hill to survey the city, followed by a delightful lunch of tacos. Then we were on the hunt for the best cake with a view which we found. Afterwards, as we walked on, we encountered a street scene featuring a brass band and spontaneous street singers. It really couldn't have been much better.

It was a beautiful day full of friendship, community, and a dash of magic. I went to sleep tired and grateful. 

Thank you for spending time with me as I continue to celebrate. I hope wherever you are that the flowers are blooming and there is music in the air. 

Until next week, keep fighting - the world needs you. 

Isn't it strange

In case you missed it, you can read last week's post here.

It's very strange how life continues on after someone in your life dies. I am no stranger to grief, I have lost many friends over the years and the majority of them from a young age, and many significant people from my logical and biological family. A parent is different they say, and this is my first experience. My dad didn't want a service and I am in Scotland, my two brothers make the trip to Arkansas to be with my mother. I keep up my end of things via video and phone. We are all exhausted and everything is strange. 

People say strange things too. 

I was off work the week my dad died since it was my birthday, but I go back to work this week. I treat everything as an experiment. I don't exactly know what I can and can't handle or how I am coping. It's a lonelier experience, being so far away. My friends here are lovely and supportive. I am thankful.

My brother Ben sends this photograph of me and my Dad on what I think was my 12th birthday. I am wearing false eyelashes for my old hollywood party - I am an unknown starlet of my own design. My Dad is 4 years younger in the picture than I am now in 2025. That seems strange and wonderful. We weren't worried about our health then. 

Speaking of my wonderful friends, my pal James took me on a birthday adventure to the beautiful Japanese garden at Cowden, but before we go to the garden, we go somewhere I had been meaning to return to for years - the Campbell Castle in Dollar. 

I made a promise to that castle back in 2013 that I would return to Scotland. At the time, I didn't know how or when I would be back - it all seemed rather fraught and impossible. And it pretty much was, but I did it. It was particularly meaningful for me to be there again during this time, as my middle name is Campbell after my grandma's maiden name (my Dad's mother). So, it just seemed to make sense. 

The Japanese garden was beautiful, we see loads of frogs and enjoy cake in the sunshine. I do a lot of grief eating of cake in gorgeous places during this time. 

Thank you for being here on this journey with me. 

You can read next week's post here.

Funny faces, piss and vinegar

My dad Stephen Chapman died on March 5th. He was 90 years old.

My dad was made up of words and music

A house full of books and records

Built of films and movie star trivia

A wild nest of knowledge

Jonathan Winters meets Raymond Carver

Speaking in tongues

Homebrew beer caps exploding and hitting underneath the basement stairs

He was a charming character

Driving gloves and no stops

Old Milwaukee and a book in bed in the afternoon

"Sunrise, Sunset" on a turquoise painted piano

Funny voices, laughter and thunder

Funny faces, piss and vinegar

Opinions, passions, and outrage

A complex collection

Wild loud jazz

Enunciation and projection

An abstract painting come to life

He wasn't like the other dads. He was something else

and I love him exactly as that.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for your encouragement and understanding of me as a painter.

___________________________________________

I turned 53 the next day.

You can read next week's post here.