Squarely in the now

work in progress 2026

Happy New Year!

I am sitting at my work table in the studio to write this. I am looking out of the windows to the sky. The sun is casting shadows on the buildings around me. I see planes flying into the city over the Forth, I telepathically welcome them. Seagulls gather on roof tops. I am surrounded by my paint, pencils, charcoal, pastels and brushes. All of my available art from the last 11 years is in one place and under the same roof as me and that feels good. 

I worked yesterday and today in my studio - filled with the "begin the year as you mean to go on" spirit. Filling the pages of an old photo album with mark making and collage. Collage has always been foundational to my work, even though I don't like getting glue on my fingers. It's a good starting point.

We've made it through the holidays, the first without my dad. There are many people missing - loss seems to cling to the years but we carry on.

I don't really want to write a year end review blog for 2025. Maybe this is why. The thought of it seems heavy and complicated.

So, I make another cup of tea, plug in my sunshine lamp, eat some dark chocolate and play music on my big headphones instead.

I will get around to the year end review post eventually (because I am a creature of habit and superstition) but not today. I will write it when I am ready -  that's how I work, I move slow and then I move fast. 

I have been thinking about what I want my art to say and mean in 2026. I don't usually think like that as it seems a bit prescriptive but I thought it could be a good exercise. I usually make art as a necessary exorcism or as a reaction to outside forces.

A pal sends a message: the sun is out and it would be good to get out and away from the screen. I leave my blog and make a mad dash out the door.

It was very cold but bright out. We had mediocre coffee in a dark and divey cafe but we had some top notch laughs. I also noticed bunches of somewhat sad daffodils for sale in the shops - it's too soon, but it is good to remember spring is around the corner. I took photos of the shadows. 

Sunshine on number 55

Once back home, I noticed that there was still a good amount of light left at 4pm. 

Now, I can hear the wild wind outside playing my bamboo chimes, and this is where I am going to leave you on this first Friday of January 2026 - squarely in the now. 

With peace and gratitude from my wintering heart to yours. 

Hungry ghosts

Parry the Wind High, Low

Find inspiration (whatever that is)

As I write, I see the neighbour's sheets billowing in the wind as they hang on the line to dry. 

I went for an hour-long walk today - nowhere fancy just the usual paths. I didn't listen to music, just the wind in the trees and the birds, footsteps and breath. I felt the coolness in the air, watched over the ferns growing in an old wall and the dappled light filtering down into the old railway path. 

I have been down lately and my foundation, askew. 

So it's time to build the foundation back up, slowly, mindfully. Walking alone in nature is one way I can do this and as autumn approaches yet again, walking is a proven and tested remedy to the extra darkness that will come soon enough. 

I have been hard-pressed to find inspiration (whatever that is) and that makes it harder to create anything. 

So, I am taking creating anything off the table for now. My new goal (thanks to a friend) is to just make marks for a while each day. Inspiration is really a habit and so many of our habits have been challenged. I am no different. So I set a timer for 15 minutes and made marks and enjoyed it enough that I set the timer for another 15 and made more marks and then I went for my walk. And this is how I will return to something that I can depend on. I'll walk and make marks. 

The Abstractionistas have a couple of exhibitions planned for October and November and we are excited. But more on that next week.

For now, make marks, walk, rebuild (again). 

Keep fighting.

The Winter Variations : New Small Works

Winter Variation One

Winter Variation Two
Sold

Winter Variation Three

Winter Variation Four

Winter Variation Five

Winter Variation Six

Winter Variation Seven
Sold

Winter Variation Eight
Sold

We are in the dead of winter. 

Hibernation. The rain, the wind, the sea, and shades of grey surround. 

A quiet time to listen, sleep, watch, breathe, and repeat. 

The winter variations. 

These original mixed media paintings are on heavyweight hot-pressed Fabriano Artistico paper. The mount window is 5x7" and these are ready to pop into an 8x10" frame. £45 with free shipping in the UK. I will be adding these to my ko-fi shop soon and sharing them on social media. 

I hope you are well. 

Thanks for everything, 

Megan