I could copy and paste my last post, as this week my day to day life pretty much followed the same routine. There was painting, horse drawing, seal watching, massaging, and fella loving.
There was also a few anomalies, like how beautiful the weather was on Friday. It gave me a taste of what summer will be like out here at Anam Cara. Mum popped out in the morning and agreed that the summer here will be glorious, and picked a spot for her and Dad to sit and watch the sea.
When it’s sunny, the studio is filled with beautiful diffused light, making it a pleasure to work in. Even so, Friday was so lovely, I finished my afternoon Ann-paint early and sat outside and drew horses, which was heavenly.
The course starts again this coming Tuesday. It will be lovely to catch up with everyone, and get stuck into my water project again. Once I have finished the Ann painting (hopefully by the end of the week), I’ll be able to devote most of my time to it, so hopefully there’ll be more progress this term.
I can’t believe it’s been over two weeks since I was in London. I even had to look at my diary to make sure I was counting right. I think the problem with my time perception at the moment is I had a bit of a groundhog week, in that it was almost exactly the same as the week before. Added to which, almost every day followed the same routine:
Yoga
I typically start my day with yoga. It’s sounds super healthy and together, but in reality the max I do is 15 minutes. Still, I’m always very grateful to myself when I have done it, and definitely feel better for it.
Drawing horses
I kept up my 20 minute drawing exercise this week, and continued with drawing horses. They are so much fun to draw, and though I don’t seem to have improved much, I have definitely loosened up. Also, drawing them has made me love the horses next door even more. My favourite is a Clydesdale that I call Mr Rogers, on account of him being so friendly – he came to the fence twice this week and had a wee chat with me.
Mr Rogers
Painting
Painting the Ann painting has been my main focus this week, which has been as wonderful and nerve-wracking as usual. I had another stress dream this morning that it got smudged. It was by a person that I really like, so I didn’t yell at them, but I did tell them that they’d have to leave. When I have one of these dreams, the sense of stress and blind fury I feel makes it difficult to speak, and is so intense that it generally wakes me up. The only upside to such a dream is the relief I feel when I fully come-to and realise the painting is alright.
Looking for Fonzi
Usually when I finish my morning paint I’ll go out looking for Fonzi. I’m ridiculously happy when I see him. If I don’t, I content myself with looking at the sea and saying hello to Mr Rogers.
Massaging
Sunday to Thursday, I tend have a morning massage appointment. I’ve had my homebased massage business for about 6 years now, and have a lovely assortment of regular clients. Becoming a Massage Therapist is one of the best decisions I have ever made, not only is it a great thing to do for someone else, but it is the perfect compliment to being an artist.
Painting
My afternoon paint tends to be the longest of the 3, and for some reason the most relaxed. I like to have a clear four hours to play with, which gives me both time to paint and research things that come to mind.
Looking for Fonzi
Since Spring has sprung, I am able to go looking for Fonzi after my afternoon paint as well. I saw him a few times this week, but no land-bound sighting compared to the drone footage my fella got of him yesterday. Look how handsome he is (and his friend is pretty cute too)!
Massaging
As well as a morning massage, I tend to have an early evening one too, which is handy for those clients that have to work during the day. When I first started my business, I used to advertise for clients by running adverts on Facebook (like the one below), now it ticks along nicely with returning clients and word of mouth.
A visit from my fella (if I’m lucky)
My fella wasn’t able to come out every evening this week, but it was certainly splendid when he did. As usual, we had fun catching up on each other’s newses – his was generally more exciting than mine, considering mine consisted of “I saw Fonzi and said hello to Mr Rogers”.
Painting
My evenings this week were spent painting the Ann painting. I’m so close to finishing that I am literally counting the days – I reckon 10 if I keep going at my current pace. My evening paint tends to be the shortest of the 3, though still a minimum of two hours.
Bed
I absolutely love going to bed, and am usually in a hurry to get there, which is why my evening paint session tends to be the shortest. I really like my current bed – true, it’s no dead-lady-bed, but still, its super comfortable and a pleasure to sleep in. I don’t always sleep the whole night through, but if I wake up I just read my book or research things on my phone (ahem…watch cat videos) so I never really mind. Plus, if it’s after 4am, I usually just get up and paint – the wee hours being my favourite time to do so.
So there we have it, my current routine. If Aristotle is right, I guess that means I am yoga doing, seal watching, horse drawing, massage giving, fella loving, bed indulging painter!
A bird sang me awake this morning. It was a lovely song and a lovely way to wake up. It made me think of how our lives intersect with other living things. How we witness each other’s existence. Whether momentarily or for long periods of time, we become part of each other’s story. It’s like Fonzi, he might not comprehend what I am, but, nevertheless, when he bobs past my house, he often sees a strange, upright creature standing on the beach looking at him. I don’t know what he makes of me, but I do know he’s curious about me, because whenever I turn around and make my way back towards the house, he comes in for a closer look. He responds to my presence, and I most definitely respond to his. We share time and space to together. It’s a beautiful thing.
As soon as I arrived back at Anam Cara and breathed the fresh sea air, I felt immediately better. Never has it felt so good to be home from London. There’s lots I love about the city, but even all those things together pale in comparison to this sweet corner of the world.
Spring arrived in my absence, and flowers and flying things abound. My favourite are the big fat bumblebees. I found one motionless on the doorstep the other evening. Darkness was descending and the rain was on its way, so I brought it inside and gave it some sugar-water, which it happily drank. I then played it some Miles Davis, which made it spring into life and start cleaning itself. Next I played The Who, but it went careening about the place, and seemed at risk of doing itself an injury, so we went back to Miles. Sadly, after our lovely evening together, the weight of living got the better of my little buddy, and it passed away during the night.
As well as enjoying all the creatures out here, including the horses that live next-door, and a pair of dolphins that swam idly by the other day (filling my heart with joy), I have been painting. During the Easter break, my primary artistic goal is to finish the Ann painting, which means working on it 8-9 hours per day. It’s an utter pleasure, and I couldn’t be happier. I have also begun drawing for 20 minutes each morning. The aim is not to draw realistically, but to draw expressively, in the hopes I will find my own style. This week I have been drawing horses, inspired by my beautiful neighbours.
I didn’t write my post last night because I was a drunken fool – as in the ‘fell into bed and passed out’ variety. It doesn’t take much to get me sozzled, so when my fella and sister, unbeknown to me, were buying me doubles, it only took a couple for me to be well on my way to a stupor. I knew something was up when my fella was telling us about an old dear who is being nominated for an OBE, and I started crying. This didn’t bode well, as it was just pre-dinner drinks. As proof, here are the photos I took on the way from the bar to the restaurant.
The photos are of Royal Victoria Dock, where my sister and her husband were staying, and where we decided to go for dinner, at a lovely restaurant called Top1Forever, which had beautiful views of the river. At least, they would’ve been beautiful if I had remembered to take my glasses.
We all had a lovely time, and it was great to see my sister and her husband again. They had come down from Cambridgeshire, where they live, to see the exhibition. Things didn’t get off to the best start, as my fella and I were late for the meet-up, on account of the fact that we were lolling about in a luxurious movie theatre watching Antman (a treat for my Marvel-loving fella). When I say luxurious, I mean big, couch-like seats, and cocktails brought to you during the pre-screening adverts. The movie went longer than we anticipated, and then I lost my phone and had to go back for it, plus, the actual location of the theatre was confusing, all of which added to our lateness and my sister’s understandable displeasure at having been left travel-weary, drinkless, and with no idea where we were.
Things didn’t really improve when next I frogmarched everyone to the exhibition, in an effort to get there before it closed. We made it in the nick of time, allowing us to have a quick look around and ohh an ahh at all the things on display, and take the obligatory photos of my painting.
After the exhibition, we stopped off at our hotel for a pre-dinner drink, only there was no where to sit. Leaving my still travel-weary, drinkless sister and her husband standing around, my fella and I popped up to our room so I could drop off my bag. But we dillydallied too much (him putting cream on his sore feet, and me changing out of my 4-day-old clothes and having a wee zhuzh). My sister was not amused by our antics, but all was forgiven once we got to a bar that did have seats and drinking commenced.
Today we went to the morning service at West London Synagogue. A lovely young man had his Bar Mitzvah, which is always a pleasure to witness. Also, a 90 year old woman her much-belated Bat Mitzvah, fulfilling her long-held dream of learning Hebrew. It was very moving and naturally made me cry.
My fella and I then made our way to London Bridge, so we could take a good look at the river. Once there, we decided to visit our old haunt…the Shard. For our first mini-break together 3 1/2 years ago, my fella, in an effort to impress me, took us to the Shangri-la. I most certainly was impressed! Anyway, we thought it would be romantic to have a drink in the bar. However, the bar was full, so we went next door, still in the Shard, and had a drink there. We managed to get a table by the window, and had a wonderful time sipping on our White Russians, eating spicy nuts, and surveying London as far as the eye can see.
Today was the unwrap our artworks and find a pozzy for them day. I found a suitable place for my painting, but while I was having lunch, a curatorial decision was made to move it. I eventually found an even better place, and my painting is now hanging in the Chain Store, Trinity Buoy Wharf, in my first ever London exhibition.
The Chain Store
Even better than hanging my painting, was meeting, in the flesh, the other people on the course. It was amazing how familiar everyone felt, and how easily we all got on. It was also great to see everyone else’s artworks. Here is a video the lovely Jo took towards the end of the day, you can partially see my painting, which is blue, behind a long white bobbily thing hanging over a nest with eggs in it.
I really love the Trinity Buoy Wharf. There are lots of outdoor sculptures about the place, as well old pieces of wharfy-type machinery that I think are beautiful. But best of all, the wharf borders the confluence of the river Lea and the mighty Thames, making it a very special place indeed.
Here are my favourite sites on the wharf:
Seeing we are in London, my fella and I decided to live it up this evening. First we went to the new Canada Wharf Mall, and bought some innersoles and a pair of scissors, then we sat on a ledge, cut out our innersoles, and stuffed them in our shoes. Both of us have really sore feet, me because my shoes are new, and my fella because he’s not used to walking further than to his car in his fancy shoes.
After our fun-a-minute mall adventure, we went back to the same restaurant as last night, mostly for the chips, but also because I love a routine, even if it’s just a day old. You have to admit, it is a beautiful restaurant.
I love dots. I love seeing them and I love putting them in my paintings. Nearly all my paintings have at least a little bunch or line of dots. In fact, most have lots of dots, and there are some that are completely covered in them. Dots are a pleasure to paint and are like sugar for my eyes. Basically, I can’t get enough of them.
Another thing I love are patterns. Whether in nature or by human hand, seeing a pattern makes my heart happy. If coupled with symmetry, as any self-respecting pattern is, then I am compelled to stop and stare, and invariably take a photo. For this reason, I have more photos of the spectacular wrought-iron work I saw on our recent holiday to Tuscany, than of the stunning scenery. Just ask my fella, he had to stop and hold my handbag every time I saw a lattice, and practically every house in the hill-top medieval towns we visited had them.
The beauty of the lattice-work I saw, inspired me to begin including it my paintings, which I did for a series I painted while at the Royal College of Art Summer School. I think it’s probably best not to over do it, but I little here and there looks lovely.
For the green paintings I’m doing for my first research project, I’d like to include more complex pattern work. So this past week, I have been experimenting with patterns from Victorian wallpaper. I like the results so far. When I am in London next week, I will try and visit the Victoria and Albert Museum to find some more inspirational patterns.
If I’m out with my fella and he does a double-take, I don’t have to look around to confirm my suspicions. I can tell by the goofy look on his face that he’s spotted a dog. It’s like he has a special dog-radar. If one is in the vicinity – even crouched down in a car or hiding under a bush – he’ll spot it. I am regularly reminded that the only thing he loves more than dogs is me. It’s true that if the house was on fire and it was me or the dog, he’d rescue me first, but, you can guarantee, he’d then risk his life to go back in and rescue the dog. That’s the kind of dog-loving fella he is.
We reached the grand milestone of four years together yesterday. I completely forgot, until he turned up at the studio with two bunches of flowers. That wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t forgotten Valentine’s Day as well. To be precise, I forgot to get him anything, while he surprised me with three lovely presents from a gift shop in town, and a dinner at the local pub.
My Valentine
To make amends, I bought him a belated gift. For future refence: an after-the-fact Amazon gift that you also bought two Valentines ago is bad! Luckily it was a Star Wars t-shirt, which seemed to soften the blow. The upshot is, he’s completely amazing when it comes to rescuing and romance, and I should live on my own with a cat.
I wish I could say that I’ve made great progress on the green paintings. But the truth is, I’ve mixed a bit of paint here and there, producing greens I neither like nor want to use, and that’s about it. Instead, I’ve been spending most of my time on the Ann painting, and I’m not even sorry. The home-stretch of a painting like Ann is an unmitigated pleasure, and I am savouring every moment. I was secretly hoping to have it finished before I go to London next week. But even if I worked on it all day and night, it still wouldn’t be finished. Besides, it would be reckless to try and rush it at this stage, as that is how mistakes are made.
As pleasurable as painting Ann is, it is also really nerve wracking, especially at this late stage. There’s no fixing a delicate, pristine painting like this, so damaging it is some way would be heart-breaking, not just because of the labour involved, but for the painting itself. Like a mother hen, I think all my chicks are beautiful, but Ann, she is beautiful and then some.
I love a good nap. And by far the best napping I have ever done was in my dead-lady-bed. The bed was a fixture in my last apartment, which I rented for 12 years (the longest I’ve lived anywhere). It got its dead-lady moniker because I am convinced an old lady died in it. It was a single, motorised bed that moved up and down, like you find in an old-folks home, and had a mattress so insanely comfortable, that even though I now sleep in a fancy super-king bed with a memory-foam mattress, I still find myself hankering for the warm embrace of my dead-lady-bed.
Coincidently (or perhaps not), the painting I had in mind for the Interim Show featured a dead lady in a bed. Although I wasn’t able bring the whole concept of the painting to fruition in time (of which the dead-lady-in-a-bed was just one element), it certainly wasn’t for want of trying.
Even though the painting doesn’t yet exist in its final form, I love it with a passion, and will do everything within my artistic powers to make it exist. Seeing the little experiments above gives me heart that it will!
After getting myself in a right pickle with my interim show painting, and almost flogging it into oblivion, I decided to take a more simple approach to the green paintings. My main focus at the moment is colour. Using the colour wheel I mentioned in my last post, I set myself the task of mixing my own greens using two colours, and then adding black and white to create different tones. I then added a colour on the opposite side of the wheel, known as a complimentary colour, and painted some little paintings to explore the colours and tones I created.
For my first experiments, I used phthalo green (blue shade) and yellow light, with red violet as the complimentary. It was nice not to have the pressure of creating an actual painting, and because I wasn’t trying so hard, some little paintings did pop out. The lighter tones are too bright and minty for the underwater paintings I have in mind, although they might be good for the odd highlight here and there. I really like the darker tones, and will definitely keep them in my bag of tricks. I also think it works better when the complimentary colour is quite strong, as in the painting below (which is of my fella playing Destiny and losing his hair from the stress of it).
Last week I decided to declutter the studio. Wow, what a difference it makes. I love being in here even more now, and find it much more conducive to arting. Of course, unless you’re a de-clutterer of the ruthless variety, the clutter has to go somewhere. Mine has gone into the room that my fella was going to use as an office. However, the non-fibre broadband we have out here in the woop woops isn’t good enough for his job, so he still works in his flat in Ramsey. With the empty space too tempting not to fill, it is now home to canvases and paints and things. According to my fella, I have now peed in every corner of the house, and if we ever do get fibre out here, he’ll need to water-proof the shed.
The other day I was lamenting to my fella about the agony I was going through trying to paint my green paintings, one of which I was hoping to get finished for the Interim Show. To clarify, he asked if I meant the paintings that if I didn’t do them there would be absolutely no consequences. That made me laugh so much. Because he was right, not just about the green paintings, but about painting in general. Absolutely nothing of consequence would happen if I never painted another thing. Sure, I’d fail my MA, and have a lot of time on hands, but no one would die, and except for a handful of people, no one in the world would even notice. And yet, I put myself under an inordinate amount of pressure, and approach my painting practice like my life, if not the world, depends on it. This has been true of the green paintings, particularly the one I had in mind for the interim show.
I absolutely love the painting I had in mind for the show, but I have come to the painful conclusion that it simply won’t be finished in time. Because it is a new type of painting for me, there is a certain developmental process that it has to go through, and rushing or missing out aspects of that process has so far resulted in a frustrating, dead-horse-flogging mess. So, before I flog the idea into oblivion, I’m going to return to the beginning of the development process, so I can build a firm foundation for the type of paintings I want to do. In which case, for the next couple of months, I will focus on colour and drawing figures.
During my last one to one tutorial, Jonathan put me onto a brilliant colour theorist, Florent Farges. I’ve already watched one of his videos, and it was extremely helpful, as is his self-designed colour-wheel system, that takes into account hue, chroma, and value. It’s all pretty technical, but I think it will be well worth the time and effort it will take to get to grips with it. So, watching his other videos, studying his wheel/s, and experimenting with colour is high on my list of priorities.
I have also signed-up for a couple of online illustration courses. So far, they have been enjoyable and easy to follow. I don’t want to do realistic drawings, and am not interested in portraiture, but I do want to develop my ability to draw expressive characters which convey emotion.
Instead of showing one of the green paintings at the Interim Show, I am going to show a painting I did when I lived in Australia. I have never shown it before, and very few people have ever seen it. That’s because I hid it in my studio due to what I perceived as a mistake in it. I always thought it was a shame, because apart from that, I thought it was a beautiful painting. Then COVID came along, the world went crazy, and I finally plucked up the courage to paint-out the mistake, and I’m pleased to say it worked, and the painting is now fit to be seen.
Acheron 90cm x 120cm acrylic on board
According to Greek mythology, Acheron (lit. river of woe) is the name of one the rivers in the underworld, which, along with the river Styx, Charon ferries the souls of the dead across. It’s an apt title for the painting, as I painted it at a time when I was miserable with unrequited love, an experience that sent my life into a tail-spin of hadesian proportions. Ahh, at least I got this painting out of it. A fair price I think.
bexODESSA 