I have been living with my door wide open to the outside world. I have been watching the sunlight flash across the walls, bouncing from windows over the road - dancing patterns through the leaves in the trees. It reminds me of the past and of music and films that I have seen. Buttercups grow past my knees in the garden and sway back and forth in the breeze.
I look towards the sun and breathe in comfort. A forgotten melody plays as I dance across the room - a remembered joy returns.
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.
I am talking to strangers on the street, at the bus stops, in shops, and on the pavements as they clean out their cars. I am talking to them like they are long lost friends and they are letting me. We are laughing, sharing, and relating - we talk about music, politics, and despair. We share favourite bands - an obscure Interpol song radiates out of a car window. We smile, we nod, and we bond.
A woman takes a photo of something I'm wearing - a shared political belief. The artist on the corner tells me about his paintings and challenges my history. We laugh, we know, we have lived similar lives.
The worker in the tea shop enjoys our banter and gives me my matcha for free. I'm touched, I'm thankful, my day made.
I find more things I need and some things I don't on the street. A friend helps and supports me with a task and then we eat strawberries in the sun.
Old things remind me of who I am and new things flesh it out even more. My hair grows longer and a bit wild. Glances shared through windows, laughter of later stories. Daisy bouquets and sunshine.
Thanks for checking out the Friday Studio Blog. I hope you are doing well. I am sitting out in the sun while I write this. Thanks again to everyone who came out to support the artists of the Out of the Blue Drill Hall last week for our exhibition, Outside + In. The show came down last Saturday at 5pm. It was good to spend so much time in the hall for that week - it was like pushing a pause button on my grief. Art has always protected me in that way.
This week I found myself plunged back into the trenches and didn't feel my best but I still managed to do a few art-related things. First, I did go to the studio on Tuesday and I decided to patch the holes and repaint my painting wall. I also looked at my paint supplies and just handled a few things in the space. I also managed to record my Tuesday Studio Video Visit! I haven't recorded one in a long time, so that was a relief to do and to do it from the studio.
Here it is if you missed it on social media.
I have to admit I didn't feel my best in the space at the time. That space sometimes feels like it is filled with the old ghosts of my hopes and dreams and a heavy dose of punishment. Sometimes it feels like I must go to that room to prove I am working. I must go to that room and prove I am busy and deserving of the space. I must go to that room to make myself scarce. I must go there to be contained. To be my wild self but enclosed in a windowless space where I won't bother anyone. I must go to that room to prove my dedication, worth, and my value. I must earn love and appreciation in that room.
Heavy wee room, eh? Aye. Fuck that noise.
So I have to exorcise it and that's what I just did. I just smudged it with the truth. Feelings come and go and feelings shared, lose their power. I am exorcising a lot. Some of you will be here for it and others might need to bail out. That's cool.
On that same Tuesday, I also saw a fleeting exhibition by another studio mate (Ian Gonczarow). I haven't yet met him but now I have seen his work in the hall and that is a good thing - hopefully, I will meet him soon. More community the better. More art in the building, the better too. I had a good chat with an art worker in the building and my studio mate and then went to hers for lunch and I enjoyed a sunny walk home.
Wednesday (4 weeks of missing Theo) was heavy and I did hard things. Thursday, I ran errands and rewarded myself for the hard things I accomplished and was gifted with a bit of anxiety for my efforts. Yoga and meditation were required as was a book in the sun that evening. Today in the sun as I write this, I love feeling warm, surrounded by flowers, and being outside and free. I love the transportive quality of the music I am listening to - it takes me everywhere.
In other news, I got another copy of The Artists Way and decided it was time to surrender to that process again. If you know, you know... I'm doing my morning pages and the artist's dates will follow. I got myself an A2 drawing board - it will be here soon.
"The position of the artist is humble. He (She) is essentially a channel." - Piet Mondrian
That's all I have for you this week on the Friday Studio Blog. If you missed a few posts, please go back and check them out. Thanks so much for your support!
In this world mixed media on canvas 30x26" Megan Chapman 2006 private collection
Waking up to find the sunshine and my cat alive is a gift. The sunshine means he can sit in a pool of light and get warm - one of his favourite things that makes his fading life worth living.
The sun helps me with my anticipatory grief and the sadness of caring for my fading friend. If I were a witch as I surely would have been back in Scotland's dark days, Theo is my familiar.
Since the last post, there was another vet visit. And this time opioids were prescribed and a 10-day course of antibiotics was administered in a single shot. So many times since then, I thought he was going but he thought differently. So here we are in the sunshine of today.
Today
Today
Today
I know today is all we have.
It's been intense, awful and sad but today the sun is out and we are here.
In between the hypervigilance, tears, naps, and friends and family checking on me - I am starting to think about art again little by little - the future.
I am thankful for the blue skies, flowers, and the spring birds darting back and forth, my brilliant cat Theo, and you.
This week started off okay but then went to shite around midweek with a computer failure. It really made me realise how much I loathe computers and all the digital detritus we acquire and create. I take a hell of a lot of photos. Computers end up like journals for me. I often start just writing in the middle of a new notebook, random and cryptic words, notations, thoughts. I circle things, I write down dates and numbers and then I walk away, only to start again somewhere else in the notebook, probably writing the same thing again and again. I imagine my computer files stretched across so many dead or dying hard drives, perhaps across continents and seas.
I also realised I don't have to be an expert at all of this. I do pretty well with a few things and that's probably enough. Now, if I could just create a basic rudimentary system that works for me I'll be fine.
Isn't that what we are all trying to do, just find our place within the frameworks of a basic system. I need wiggle room and a bit of space for wild abandon too. I know I need systems but I don't really like them too much.
I am sitting in front of the window, the sun is warm on one of my arms, I watch my exhausted daffodils catch the wind, the grape hyacinths are coming up now in the window box. I am listening to concentration music on my computer - drones to keep the brain waves in check.
I had an order for a print yesterday when I woke up from an old friend in Seattle. Always thankful for the support and delighted for the order. Check out my kofi shop if you haven't in a while.
And in other news, I happened to paint five new small works this week. Can you imagine? I certainly didn't but somehow I have. These are on 5x7" mixed media on canvas boards. You can see the weave of the canvas in the photos, these wee beauties pack a punch.
Overlooker (you don't need to think on it) mixed media A3 size/11.7x16.5” 150gm acid-free smooth cartridge paper
The wind is rattling the blinds against the window frame and my peony tumped over on the patio. The neighbour's laundry runs parallel with the ground while my wind chimes are caught in the vine I am training to take over the landlord's house.
The sun hits my hands and I am warm but I take comfort under a brightly coloured and stitched blanket. I am a sunflower along the highway as I move my yellow chair to face the light. I had to broker a deal with my cat.
This week has been spent in the studio mostly laying the foundations for nine small works. You know I like to alternate between large and small as I build a series. Currently, we have five larger works on the go as well. The studio is warming up, slowly but surely, from the holiday break.
I am continuing to "refill the well" by watching art documentaries again this week (you can see the ones I watched last week, here). So far, these are this week's selections.
Anselm Keifer- Remembering the Future. Brilliant documentary. I love Keifer and have had the thrill to stand before his great work but knowing more about the man, his process, and to see his studio spaces really brings it all home.
Picasso's Last Stand. A fascinating look at the artist at the end of his career.
Robert Rauschenberg - Pop Art Pioneer. I've been a fan of Rauschenberg for ages and this was a lovely way to spend some time with the artist and his work. His sense of humour and life force is contagious.
Again, all of these are currently available on YouTube. Is there an art documentary you think I need to watch or one that has recently inspired you? Leave it in the comments for me. Thanks! I remember in art school, my mentor Ron Graff would tell us to just spend time in our studios, reading, looking at art, flipping through magazines- whatever- that time spent in the studio was good, so if you are feeling stuck, why not watch a documentary in your studio space, whether it's the kitchen table or a spare bedroom, think about art in there while you are not making it and watch what happens.
I have also started mentoring a couple of artists this past week. It has been wonderful to share in their work, their struggles, and to hear of their brilliant ways of seeing the world through their art. I am grateful to be able to do this work. I am still working on my mentoring website, so stay tuned, but if you think you want to work with me send me an email or leave me a comment to learn more. I look forward to hearing from you!
This week for the Tuesday Studio Video Visit, I did something a little different. This week, I filmed myself reading one of my first Studio Blog posts from 2007. It was an emotional experience for me to read my words as I let it sink in just how much has changed in my life and art. Here it is again in case you missed it. You can always find these videos each week on my Facebook Art Page.
I think that's all I have for you this week. Every day we paint is a victory but we also have to take the time to keep learning and growing. We have to see the beauty and feel the sun on our faces and spend time in nature. We have to take care of our hearts and minds.
With gratitude from my heart to yours, thanks for reading.
