And she was

I had a lovely week 

I saw so many beautiful things 

I enjoyed good and cool people 

I learned new ways 

I made art 

I wrote 

I sang 

I danced 

I walked 

I cooked 

I practiced 

I read 

I laughed 

I studied 

I was in awe 

I was moved 

I was sad 

I was anxious 

I worked 

I trusted 

I was disappointed 

I was angry 

I accepted help 

I helped others 

I was vulnerable 

I was ridiculous 

I made people laugh 

I was perfectly imperfect 

I was alive 

Built on a foundation of ok

X

Watching the light

Another place in time

Dear Reader, 

I hope the sun is shining where you are and that you are well and happy. I guess I enjoyed the community so much last week, that I caught the community cold. I have been resting, researching, and doing nothing at all and it has been much needed. I wish I didn't have to get sick or have a migraine for my body and brain to understand how important deep rest is. 

Going forward I must prioritise this. Without rest and self preservation, there is nothing. 

Take care until next week and thank you for being here. 

- Megan 

Joy is resistance

You know what's cool? Walking down a road you've never been on with your pal, then standing with your backs against a wall in the winter sun. I’ve done this twice lately and highly recommend it. If you joke that you both look like members of an '80s band and share a laugh, it’s even better.

Julia and I have been roaming the streets again, seeing art, and sitting in coffee shops. We have already seen some great exhibitions this year. This is normally where I would tell you all about them but I cannae be arsed. Go out and see some art wherever you live. 

I will show you one of my new works in progress. I decided to pop it into a frame just to see how it would feel in one, and it seemed to agree with it. I like my frames like I like my art, a bit dirty and damaged. 

In other news, I have been reading books, organising, working, meditating, baking, and learning new ways of being. It's a good way to stay sane when everything is awful and gross. I am also taking action, voting, calling, signing, and joining. Community, community, community - that's where it's at. I hope you are being supported by your community. I hope you are supporting your community. 

Stay free, be well, and stand against walls in the sun. 

Strangers tell me things

Sunday works in progress: a different ground

 On the way to carboot sale

Brutal Monday evening 

On Friday Leith provides

Anarchy in the everyday

Hello Dear Readers,

With one song on repeat I settle in to write to you. It was also one hell of a week and I am glad it is over. It's Halloween. Tomorrow is November. How is that even possible? Are you sensing a theme? I feel like each week, I write: things are hard, time is moving fast, what the hell... here's some art, here's some photos - cheery bye.

I write a lot in other places, I talk a lot in other places too, and now I am tired and worn out. I feel like The Giving Tree.

But back to the song, the bass vibrates in my ears in a way that I can see it - I shake my head back and forth to the beat. This song has that wonderful industrial metal scraping clang that my brain loves. The bass and guitars are perfection. I don't think there is much better than listening to a song on really good headphones. This one is ticking all the boxes tonight - it is reviving my tired heart.

However, I still can't focus enough right now to talk about art in any meaningful or moving way. Perhaps if I had written this in the morning I could have, but I needed to go out and meet a pal. I sat with the locals on the community benches at the foot of the walk and I purposely breathed in their smoke. I comforted them as they shared their fresh grief with me and was hugged by a stranger.

I love community spaces and I love talking to people. I love making people laugh and I love laughing. I love hearing music from pub speakers and I love knowing that cosy places for folks to meet still exist.

Just another beautiful day in Leith, just another day in my life.

Until next week, try to talk to someone you don't know and try not to worry so much.
We need you and the gifts you bring. Keep fighting.

Conversations and quandaries

Broughton St Mary’s church turret in autumn

Hello Dear Reader, 

Here we are again, another Friday. I hope you are okay. I am not great but at least I am not ill and I haven't had any migraines lately so that is a positive. This week was frustrating and difficult for a multitude of reasons. Even with the beauty of autumn as a backdrop - I am weary. Are we all weary now? Is this just how it is going to be? I sure hope not. 

So let's focus on the beauty and the good parts, that seems to be all I know how to do. I can be struggling and still recognise the wonders of life. 

I went for a walk with my friend Jen on Saturday and introduced her to my favourite local tree. I had been hesitant to go by and visit my scottish friend tree as I was worried it might not be there due to some recent council heavy pruning. Jen kindly accompanied me as I faced that concern and we were both delighted to see its far reaching majesty, albeit very lopsided.  

On Sunday, I met my friend Julia, for a ramble through the city centre and down into Stockbridge. We enjoyed warm drinks and chips while sitting in the window of a crowded cafe. Afterwards we went to a charity shop where I scored a wonderful scarf. We then continued down the road to see the current exhibition, Beneath the Veil at The House of Smalls. This is only the second exhibition I have seen at The House of Smalls and I have been equally impressed and deeply moved each time. If you are in Edinburgh or passing through, I would highly recommend putting this gallery on your list to visit. Amy is a friendly and helpful gallerist and has created a space with an important and commendable ethos.

chai latte with Julia before the exhibition

After meeting up with Julia, there was of course my Sunday session of painting and talking about art with my mom. I worked on the two canvases below. Just adding different washes of paint. Roughing in and wiping away the colours in layers while listening to Brian Eno and drinking tea. Not a bad way to spend some time. I like them pretty well as they are, but may continue to work on them this week. 

work in progress

work in progress

On Monday, the haar rolled in, and it seemed like the perfect time to take a walk and make some photos. I feel fortunate to have this wilderness so close. I know these trees and this patch of land so well and in return I feel known by them. I find so much support and solace in these nearby woods and the paths by the water of Leith. 

As usual, there was work and all the other bits and pieces that make a life - exercise, meditation, meals, conversations and quandaries. I am now sitting on the sofa, listening to one song on repeat and feeling grateful to have shared this Friday ritual once more with you.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness. 

May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. 

May all beings rejoice in the wellbeing of others. 

May all beings live in peace, free from greed and hatred. 

Thank you for being here. Until next week, take care. 

Working and worrying

Works in progress from last Sunday's Session with Mom

Hello, Dear Readers,

How are you doing? I’m really glad it’s Friday—the weight of the world is wearing me out. My eyes are desperate to close for the day.

Here's the week in review. I attended the Scottish Artists Union's AGM last Saturday. I gave a wee 10 minute report on the happenings of the Rep Team. Afterwards, I met up with a pal for some matcha and charity shopping in Leith.

Sunday was art day with my mom (see above—laying the foundations for two new paintings). My mother and I have been talking and working on art for eight Sundays now. It’s been a good routine for both of us. I aim to complete at least one of those pieces this Sunday.

I watched the documentary, "Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk" on Sunday morning as well. It was inspiring. 

On Monday, I ventured into the hot wilderness of the city centre and felt "all lost in the supermarket" and tearful as I wandered through the mêlée. When I got home, I saw there was a warning of an active shooter at the University of Arkansas back in my hometown. This was very alarming. Thankfully, everyone was okay in the end, as it turned out to be a cruel and terrorising hoax. However, later in the week, there was another shooting, this time in Minneapolis. I can’t stand America’s relationship with guns.

On Tuesday, I participated in four video events—a training, two online workshops, and a meeting with a friend. On Wednesday and Thursday, I had work, and on Thursday night, I attended another workshop. And here we are. Today, I met a pal for some more charity shopping and a tasty vegan lunch. Afterwards, I had an art chat with a friend.

It was a busy week of working and worrying. But there was also a lot of learning, expanding, and feeling excited about possibilities.

I was strangely tempted to rescue a TV/VCR combo from the street but decided against it. And this is where I leave you.

the revolution will not be televised

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.

I still shake

Above the old studio sink

Hello Dear Readers, Friday finds us again.

Thank you for spending some time with me in a world that is always pulling at your attention and lifeforce. Last week's post seemed to be a popular one, and I am glad it resonated. 

This hasn't been a great week, but there have still been moments of beauty and laughter, as well as tears. I took time for it all.

I have decided that I must approach things differently. It's once again time to reframe, change, embrace, and accept. Of course, it is always this time unless one is fighting against the very nature of life. I am actually pretty good at doing this - I can be pretty stubborn. I am a fixer and an optimist, a hard worker and much of the time, a black and white thinker. These qualities can serve me well to a point and these traits can also make things harder than necessary. I embrace my hardwired tendencies and breathe into what I can soften and release. 

This week, I walked more and listened to nature's lessons. 

As I think many of you have gathered, my art "career" is not the same as it once was, my feelings and motivations towards it have changed a lot since the pandemic as well as from all I have learned through my involvement with the Scottish Artists Union. I no longer work the same way as I did. Some of this is okay with me and some of it, is not. 

The arts (in all of its forms) was such a huge part of who I was as a child, how I was raised, what I valued and how I perceived my value. I credit art with "rewiring" my brain, giving me a purpose, and helping me make sense of the world and my place in it. Art built my confidence and gave me a shorthand language to help me find others that I could understand and who would understand me. Art supported me emotionally, spiritually, sometimes financially, and gave me a sense of community. 

Most of my friends are artists or in creative fields of practice and many of them have also changed the way they work. We talk about it differently now, in a wistful way. Longing for something that was lost. Back before algorithms, likes, and shares - or back to when likes and shares still equaled opportunities and income. Back before we realised how much all the open calls were costing us, before we realised the labour involved in pursuing speculative opportunities that seemed to generate income for everyone but the artists. Back when we had that hungry energy when we were younger. 

How do we peel it all back and begin again? What systems need creating to make it work? What is the goal now? How do you keep expressing and creating when you are the only audience for your work and your storage space and finances are limited? How do you remain committed to the creative practice when the world seems committed to misunderstanding it and you? 

How do you ignore the pressures of society to protect the tiny flame within?

I think you tell the truth. I think you keep showing up, even if showing up looks different now. I think you keep walking in nature, and realising the value of all things that feed the creative work. I think you get quiet and maybe a little angry. 

And you create to please yourself, to calm, soothe, explore, excavate and exorcise. I think you meditate and cry and limit the bullshit from taking root. 

Why would the path look the same as it did five, ten, or twenty five years ago? It wouldn't. We've changed, the world has changed, the internet has changed, galleries have changed, motivations have changed and this is simply the nature of things. 

Art is the constant, even in fits and starts. From youth to now, I think about it, write about it, talk about it, work around it, create it, cry and worry over it, and feel its exaltation.

I let go of what was, accept what is, and do not fear the future, but I still shake.

A shift in the weather

Time folds in on itself

Co-Star Mic Drop 

I am having frequent migraines, I am working more hours than usual, and there is still never enough time to get things done. My life's work is largely ignored and my anxiety grows. I am avoiding the news because I can't think about war.

Time folds in on itself - how did we all get so old. 

I slept until my alarm chimed bird sounds at 7am. This is a rare occurrence.

My dreams were wild but not memorable, only the feeling and flashes of colour left behind. This is my weekend now, time to recover and regroup but I already feel the weight of obligation and the plans I made for myself. 

I am tired and on shaky ground, yet I will it solid. As I type these dour words I think, what a bummer of an intro, surely this can't stand. I will delete and share the beauty and lightness that I also found this week. Because I can always find it.

If resilience is a curse, I have been hexed. 

Remember too, this place is a creative exercise. Perhaps the only creativity I will experience in the week. I like putting words together. 

The words are partly crafted from the music playing in my big headphones, Marconi Union, Brian Eno, Hammock, Nils Frahm - icy and atmospheric on a warm June morning. Music for introspection - like I need any encouragement. 

I want to write, I think you are beautiful. But who am I thinking of, I do not know. 

I think you are beautiful. 

I walked. I watched a show everyone is talking about. I listened to an audiobook. I have sat in the garden in the sun, knee deep in buttercups and daisies, punctuated by poppies and foxgloves. I am going to see live music on Sunday and Monday. I have talked to friends - human and the furry kind and I have harvested fresh spinach.

I have made good food and healthy drinks, enjoyed naps, yoga and breathing exercises. See what I am doing? I can't help it. 

If resilience is a curse, I have been hexed. 

Susumu Yokota comes on my headphones - glorious. I was trying to be reminded of this album. There are no accidents. 

and I still think you are beautiful.

Throw me a line

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

The drawing continues, it's as much about erasing as it is about drawing. Nothing better than a kneaded eraser - like sculpting. I enjoy the yellowed tags, and the limited palette. Home. home. home. Throw me a line.

I know what I am doing.

You can read next week's post here.

Waiting (again)

I am back dating these posts more often than I like and the tuesday studio video visits fell by the wayside long ago. I didn't even try to sell you anything this year. 

I am letting it all slide and fall away as my energy is spent on living and laying down the first two bricks of the foundation in the hierarchy of needs. Again. 

I had a good dream last night, one of the special - true to life, lucid dreams, filled with symbolism and allure. I made a great cup of coffee this morning and I sang a made up song at the kitchen counter while looking up at the skeleton trees. 

Not bad at all. 

I completed some chores and I thought about ancient times. I listened to a familiar voice with his vulnerability vibrating down the line - a character actor singing about nothing. Perfectly. 

I meditated. 

I don't mind waiting.

Conduit

I'm trying...

Dedication

 

Thank you. 

Created in its wake

We've been here before

mixed media on paper

29.7 x 42 cm (11.69 x 16.54 in)

£125

The sun has been out but it has been bitterly cold. The blue sky and the brightness have been a welcome change. It's even staying light well after 4pm. Spring is around the corner (a long way around the corner, but around the corner just the same).

Memory Serves

mixed media on paper

29.7 x 42 cm (11.69 x 16.54 in)

£125

I took two walks to post three of my works on paper to their new homes in the States and to Glasgow. 

Monday: Post office walk number 1

I enjoyed the sun and even saw my first snowdrops! I gasped out loud when they caught my eye like a long-lost friend, a sort of "what are you doing here!" moment. That pretty much sums me up - I am constantly amazed by the world and nature's beauty. It truly brings me such comfort and joy. Listening to music and walking in nature feed into everything else I do.

Wednesday: Post office walk number 2

It was crisp and cold out, but no snow. I visited an old graveyard on the way home. One of my favourite things to do. I love the old stones covered in lichen. Reading the names, running my hand over the symbols - angels, skulls, and masonic imagery. Always astonished by the dates from so long ago. I walk over the frozen grass looking at the skeleton trees of winter, breathing it all in.

Sequence of webs #3

mixed media on paper

29.7 x 42 cm (11.69 x 16.54 in)

£125

I would like to walk to the post office again soon. Five works on paper remain. I am enjoying featuring specific works during the month. This will continue, it helps me focus and not get too overwhelmed. I have created a lot of work over my lifetime and during these past 9 plus years in Scotland. Not only have I created it, I have managed it - stored it, moved it, packed it, documented it, and kept up with it. Every time I create something, it feels like a billion-step process is created in its wake. I am becoming more discerning that what I create must warrant all the steps and all the expense and energy.

I am also thinking about what I want and need to say, as well as, how to say it in my future work. This all takes time, so it's a good thing it's still winter. While I ponder it all, I will keep featuring specific bodies of work from my studio. Let me know if you have any questions about these works on paper.

Rebuilding. Sketches for a new tomorrow #3

mixed media on paper

29.7 x 42 cm (11.69 x 16.54 in)

£125

Sequence of webs #1

mixed media on paper

29.7 x 42 cm (11.69 x 16.54 in)

£125

In other news, a bit of culture I've enjoyed: 

Films: 

Saltburn 

The Holdovers

Television: 

True Love (6-part series on Channel 4)

Music: 

Pictish Trail 

Books: 

Daily Rituals: Women at Work by Mason Currey 

(just picked this up yesterday - excited to read it)

Thanks for popping by the Studio Blog. I hope you are well, happy, and inspired and if not, tomorrow is another day. Thank you for being here. Keep fighting.

My favourite kind of beauty

I went for a walk yesterday and everywhere I looked was beautiful. Aged, decaying, and run down - my favourite kind of beauty. The light was from the past and the golden leaves, the old doors, cobbles, and wynds were singing to me. The pavements held me, and the sound of the trees in the wind cushioned my steps. 

We are holding you. We are here for you. We are with you now. 

I looked up to the sky, I looked down at my feet, step after step. I looked at the light and breathed - looked into the wind and felt, looked up again into the trees and tears met my eyes.

I hear the small birds in the morning now, not the seagulls. The swans and signets have done themselves proud, their family intact and almost grown as they glide along the water in the sun. 

I congratulate them. 

I walk on, and the leaves glisten in the water. I snap a picture. 

We are holding you. We are here for you. We are with you now.

Capture the light

Morning Sun 1952 - painting Edward Hopper

I am stuck here wordless. 

I was videoless this week as well. 

After last week's activity comes this week's pause, this week's work, and this week's riding of the wave.

But there is a beam of sunshine on my hands and there is music in the air. I had a nice lunch and good snacks. I am wearing a new (to me) crisp white oversized button-up shirt from a charity shop. I can see clouds moving quickly from my window. I have packages coming my way and a stray cat who visits me. 

It's not bad or good - it's just life. 

When we look at a painting by Hopper we don't feel too bad about things. We don't judge the space in the room or the lone woman. We like the feeling. We celebrate it. Perhaps we can celebrate those days in real life too. Or just soak up the space, the light, the feeling. Celebrate is too strong. We can just be in the space without judgment and without wanting to move on too fast. 

Autumn is good for this, the need for hibernation is starting to filter in around the edges. It's okay to put on your shoes and go for a walk or just sit still and capture the light. 

Until next week, keep fighting and then take a nap. And if you live in Scotland sign this petition.

Thank you.