Work well not hard

Small canvas work in progress

Hello Dear Readers,

I am not sure what is going on but my old studio blog is getting a lot of traction, especially in these last two months - the numbers suggest bots, but I will choose to hope there are real people behind the ever expanding view count. Hello! Thanks for joining me on this Friday ritual that has spanned over 18 years now. 

It's a gorgeous morning, a cool breeze rustles the leaves of the bay tree two doors down. I have a cup of Earl Grey (been off the matcha since having Covid) and I am listening to frequencies designed to help me focus.

The world continues to be "wild at heart and weird on top." The flood of information and outrage is really too much to bear by design. 

I have the privilege and deep need to focus on the breeze on the back of my neck, the way the sunlight makes patterns on the floor, and currently the ability to prioritise my relative peace. 

As I mentioned last week, I had Covid. I am now on the mend and grateful that I recovered as quickly and as easily as I did. Still not fun and quite worrisome at times of course, but I am glad to be feeling better (and grateful for vaccines and science).

You know that statement, "Do something your future self would thank you for?" I often struggle to know what statements like this actually mean, but I think I have figured it out. I just happened to feel inspired to batch cook and freeze portions of 3 different meals for myself before I got sick. It was incredible to have these tasty and wholesome lunches and dinners waiting for me each day that I was ill. I was struck by how smart, efficient, and caring it was to have done this small task that took maybe an hour and gave back so much more than the time I put in. This is something I will try to do more of in the future. I am a good cook (I think a lot of artists are) and it was such a gift to myself to be able to enjoy these meals. 

In other news, I was able to paint. I worked on two more new pieces in my Sunday series, just laying the ground work for what I will try to finish this Sunday. I seem to be developing more natural rhythms in my life that work with my brain rather than against it. It feels good to have these particular days, times, or hours for these specific activities. I have always mentioned that in painting, I find a limited palette more expansive. I think I am working toward creating a more "limited palette" for my whole life. You can do so much with four of your favourite colours, why mess with the ones that confuse, conflict, and muddy the waters? Seems like applying this to life could also be beneficial. 

canvas panel in progress

I will continue to take it easy this weekend, work more on my paintings, enjoy the light, music, and try to cook myself up some more care. I hope you can do something similar. You are worth the kindness you show yourself. You are worth the slowness, the time spent lost in your thoughts and dreams. These are gentle acts of resistance, joy, and love and are more important than you know. Please keep fighting. 

Tear it up

under the earth (there is a stone heart)

I am sitting in my favourite chair on a Friday so this can only mean one thing, we are here again. We are spending time together on the Studio Blog. 

The first thing I tend to do these days, is review my photos to remind me of the past week. Then I will flick through my brain waves and see if there were any major themes that I am willing to share. 

Last week's post proved strangely popular according to the numbers - perhaps everyone loves a bit of small furniture or perhaps it was the photos of the dark paintings on the easel. 

On Sunday, I went to the local car boot sale with a pal, and purchased mundane things that I needed - in other words, no vintage spoons, art books, or anything cool. There was matcha (of course) and many laughs were had. Sunday also brought the fifth week of my art discussion sessions with my mother. My mom continued to work on her bird sculpture and I worked to rectify the two darkest canvases. They became slightly surreal - other worlds. See above and below. 

separation state

This week, I also received a concept to explore further in my art. The conditions were right, so the idea felt comfortable enough to let itself be known. A bigger than usual concept, of the sort I haven't had in a long time. I am not quite ready to present it here. But there is something afoot, it's happening now, and it's showing up in my daily life. I hope to be able to explore it a bit more this weekend and roll around with it. Stay tuned.

In other news, I cut my hair even shorter than usual and that was a relief. It always is - the shorter my hair, the more I feel like myself. My street finding energy was strong this week - let's just say, I have a new cool shoe wardrobe and that brings me joy. 

Los Retumbes

Last night, I went to a Fringe gig featuring the Spanish band, Los Retumbes. It was a joy to be able to walk 3 minutes to see 3 bands (The Screamin Kick and The Bad Moods opened) along with my friends and neighbours and all for a good cause, benefiting the community. I had a smile on my face the whole time they played their high energy set. I bought a t-shirt to support the band. They are playing again at Elvis Shakespeare tomorrow (Saturday 9 Aug) at 2:30 (free show) for any locals reading this.

Speaking of other cool Leith Fringe happenings for the locals: Go check out Cyan Clayworks during their Fringe exhibition and open studio. Chris and Fiona are good people, and you need their work and their vision in your lives. They have prints and photos along with their stellar ceramic works for you to enjoy in their gorgeous studio. 

And that's all the news I have for you this week. The world seems impossibly tragic and difficult right now and if you are struggling, you are not alone. What gives me comfort are the various communities I am part of and giving myself permission to find and hold on to joy. Your joy and my joy may not look the same and the jerks of the world hate that - so have more of it. Silence their voices with your kindness, your sparkle, and your open heart. 

Keep fighting and I will too.

The Small Furniture

a collection of weeks

I can't believe it's already Friday (says every older person everywhere). Time slides past at a rapid pace. Why do the first 18 years of life go at a snail's pace and then pick up speed steadily thereafter? Do our developing brains perceive time differently?

Regardless, here I am sitting in my favourite chair by the open window. Today's song endlessly loops on my headphones as I write. A strong matcha over ice in a tall blue handblown glass from Terra Studios in Arkansas will light the fire within. 

I am going to take a page out of my friend Julia's wonderful blog this week, and perhaps just share a few flashes from my week. 

You can see the paintings (above) in progress on my easel from the weekly prompted sessions with my mother. Last Sunday, I didn't have much in me, but I did work on two pieces rather than just one even if it was mostly just painting things black. Progress, not perfection, and all that. 

But I have gotten ahead of myself. On Saturday there was the Stop Trump Rally and demonstrations at various locations across Scotland. I went along with my neighbours and it was good to see so many people out and outraged.

Scots give good signage

On the way home, after the protest, I took a photo of the St. Columba's Charity Shop window as they do a good job of their display. It is always full of colour, pattern, and a sense of nostalgia. I needed and enjoyed the visual relief.

Charity shop vibes

On Monday, I took a bright neighbourhood walk around some of my favourite parts of the Water of Leith. I have been dealing with a random hip injury and haven't been walking quite as much this past month. The sun was bright and lovely and the sky was blue. I went to visit my Scottish friend tree (my original friend tree, was my childhood touchstone back in Arkansas). I was unnerved to find my local tree had been cut back significantly by the council. I hate that it has been disturbed but I also know it was diseased in parts and they seem to be doing a very careful job trimming it. I must have faith that it is being cared for and not that it is about to be destroyed - that would be too much for me to bear. I told it that it was strong and resilient, and to root down and resist if needed. I kissed its knobbly bark and thanked it for its grounding presence in my life. I have two wee branches of it now in my home - I love it so.

water of leith

Scottish friend tree

On Tuesday, I met my pal Julia in the city centre for lunch and a blether. We met on the steps of the National Museum of Scotland on Chambers Street. It was a strange thrill to sit on the big steps and wait for my pal. I have always liked sitting on the sidewalks/pavements and I used to say that anywhere I could do that, I felt at home.

School children waited in a line with their minders to go in and have a big adventure. It brought to mind field trips of my youth, and how exciting it felt to be somewhere new as a group - wild, free, and out of the classroom! 

Waiting on a friend

this must be the place

During our outing, I spied some handmade dollhouse furniture in the window of a charity shop in Morningside. I exclaimed when I saw it and had that instant rush of being pretty sure that I needed it in my life. My palms tingled - the same way they do when I see art that I resonate with - that "got to have it" energy flooded my system, worried someone might beat me to it. But it was doll house furniture... Did I really need it... What would I do with it? Why did I love it so much and what did it really represent?

I took a picture of it in the window and looked at the picture the whole time we were browsing inside. Never one to make a rash decision, we left the shop to look at a few others nearby, but I was distracted, still itchy and worried someone might get it. We walked back up the street and looked in at it one more time, and the tears came. I had to have it. It didn't matter if it didn't make sense; it made sense to me. It represented something important to me - it reminded me of home, my mother, and my brothers. It reminded me of the dollhouses and the furniture that they made together late at night for me after my mom had worked all day. It reminded me of all the love and care that goes into the making. It deserved a good home that would understand and love it the right way. I needed my mother to see it and to know that I was thinking of her.

When I walked in to buy it, the relief was immediate. The shop volunteer called out for an assistant to come and retrieve the pieces from the window. I caught the eye of a man who smiled at me knowingly regarding the handcrafted treasure I would be taking home. I was excited to unveil it to my mother over a video call a couple of hours later. She understood and appreciated it just like I did. It was worth every penny.

On Wednesday and Thursday, I was busily back at work, but rest assured, the small furniture was set up nearby so I could steal glances at it.

I am thankful for the moments of joy and the crashing waves of sadness. I am grateful that I feel big emotions and that I have friends and trees that I can share them with. I am grateful for the family that created me and shaped the things I value.

Here’s to the things that bring us joy and tears. Until next week, keep fighting for all your small furniture moments.

My favourite place

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

I went to my favourite place in Edinburgh, Warriston Cemetery. This was a monumental day (no pun intended). Something shifted this week. I sat on a bench and looked over the cemetery and felt joy. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, everything was fresh, verdant, and overgrown. Perfectly disheveled and comforting, the sun was glorious and I felt reborn. Suddenly, I had ideas, goals, dreams, and most importantly some structure and support. 

You can read next week's post here.

The lightness

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

The weather was beautiful even while the politics of the world are horrid and my personal grief remains, so I try to get out in it as much as possible. Spring in Edinburgh is spectacular and feels well deserved, the lightness makes everyone a bit more friendly. 

I continue to draw some, investing in new materials (thanks to a dear friend sending me a gift certificate for my birthday). I buy 5 erasers among a few other things and this makes me laugh. In April I began working more hours with the Scottish Artists Union.

My dear friend Peikko from Finland arrives midweek and spends a few nights with me. What a joy to have her near. We laugh as we talk about the dark stuff of life and we go see art and enjoy the gorgeous Edinburgh weather.

Peikko

We both enjoyed Portia Zvavahera's exhibition at Fruitmarket Gallery. I must say this is probably the best painting exhibition I have seen at Fruitmarket. We had plenty to discuss and resonate with while surrounded by the colourful and meaningful large scale works. I could feel each and every one of them. 

Copyright Portia Zvavahera

Friends really do make the world go around. Haste ye back, Peikko!

You can read next week's post here.

My heart lives in two places

What a difference a few days make. 

I have on my cosy jumper while sitting under a blanket with the lamps turned on. It will be dark within 30 minutes. This can only mean one thing... I am back in bonny Scotland sitting in my flat. The window is speckled with rain drops. I do have my big headphones on though just like the last time I wrote, but the music has changed. I decided to listen to an old favourite on repeat. 

Thanks to everyone who read my last three blog posts written in Arkansas. If you missed them the first time here they are again. 

October 11th https://meganchapman.blogspot.com/2024/10/the-true-liminal-space-and-comfort-of.html

October 18th https://meganchapman.blogspot.com/2024/10/i-see-you-you-see-me-we-are-here.html

October 25th https://meganchapman.blogspot.com/2024/10/i-am-of-leaves-i-am-of-trees-i-am-of.html

Let's pick up where we left off, in the last few days I was with my parents, I did various projects around their house, enjoyed the sun and warmth as much as I could, did a bit of work, and ran some errands and just spent time with them. On Sunday, a dear family friend came to visit us with some lovely baked goods - we caught up on the weirdness of life around the table. Later that day, my mother and I enjoyed Fiber Fest down the road at Ozark Folkways. Again, I spontaneously ran into a couple of people I knew there and it was a delight.

On Monday, we took family photos against the orange backdrop of the maples and I said a tearful goodbye to my dad before I took my mom to an appointment in town. Afterwards we ran some errands together, where I ran into yet another person I was happy to see for a quick catch up over a shopping cart.

Afterwards, my mom and I had a mediocre but funny lunch, saw another dear friend for a bonus spontaneous visit, ran another errand, and then I was dropped off where I started, at the old house in town. I hugged my mother goodbye and she was on her way back to Winslow.

I organised my belongings, and then took my dear friend out for a delicious dinner at one of my favourite old spots - Thep Thai (it's still good Barbara - get the Pad Kee Mao with Tofu #35). On the way back I asked my pal to stop so I could take a photo of a dreamy Cadillac at dusk in the parking lot of the old muffler shop. Magic!

Once again at the old house, I just had a bit more organising to do before it was off to sleep. The next day would see the long journey back to Scotland that would start Tuesday morning Arkansas time and end Wednesday morning in Edinburgh. Three planes back and this time no missed connections. I even had time to enjoy the Prince store in Minneapolis - I saw one of his guitars and his hand written song notes. I was quite the fan back in the day and if you recall 1999 was mentioned in the blog post prior to this one, so again - there are no accidents.

After sitting next to a MAGA bro with some weird ideas on the first flight, I was rewarded on the next two with no one sitting next to me. On the overnight airbus, I was sat on the aisle at the end of a row of four, in the middle of the plane. The dutchman at the other end and I shared air high fives as no one was seated in the two middle seats between us. Yes! I love these spontaneous joyful interactions with strangers. I settled in and ate more delicious KLM food while watching a film, listening to music, and sleeping. Smooth as vegan butter. 

Later, I watched from the window on the last flight as Edinburgh came into view - a calm joy washed over me. I love making that bank over the Firth of Forth. I eased through the border with my U.K. passport, picked up my bag, and ordered a chai. Thanks to the insistence of my parents, I got a taxi back home. 

I enjoyed the banter with the taxi driver as we drove in the sideways morning light. Once dropped off, I rolled my suitcase into my garden and heard the familiar wail of the stray cat (wee bear as he is now known) that I have been feeding for over a year. All was well. My pals had been looking after him while I was away (thanks Alice, Ever, and Eleanor - it takes a village to feed a stray cat). Besides the hungry cat, fresh flowers greeted me along with a card once inside. My people are the best people. 

It was all still here. My heart lives in two places. 

I took a nap, a shower, a walk to visit my Scottish friend tree, and then I jumped into work meetings and again all was well. 

I dedicate this post and the previous three travel posts again to my communities near and far and to all the people who make this world a beautiful and kind place. Thank you. 

Oh, and to music - I dedicate most things to music! 

The album I listened to while flying

Dedication

 

Thank you. 

You bloom in spring

There is joy to be found in a good pencil and even more joy to be found in just the right paper. Spring is here. Thank you for being here. Don't give up.

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