To be perfectly honest, the latest lockdown announcement here in Scotland was bound to influence my art in some form or another...
Needless to say this is going to be one looooong winter, one that’ll have me blasting “Here Comes The Sun” by The Beatles once it ends, or at the very least stabilises.
"Her cricket kids traipse in to wash their hands." Cricket is a popular bat-and-ball game in Australia where the winning team gets to eat crickets at the end of a match.
Against the weight of a storm-dark sky, tender stems lean forward—some bending, some breaking, some still reaching.
They hold their fire at the tips, waiting to bloom, waiting to burn, waiting to belong to light.
Perhaps this is all of us:
stretching through shadows,
searching for the thin, golden line that divides earth from eternity.
To draw is to notice.
To notice is to pause.
And sometimes, all it takes is a barefoot boy in a camping chair, chasing the drips of a popsicle, to remind us what it means to be here.
This is Popsiclence—a sacred kind of focus.
It’s where observational drawing leads us: out of the swirl, into the now.
And in that now, we heal.
Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides.
She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places.
So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.
I call this work Lost Koi because I painted it in the 1990s. Gave the original to a friend who was terminally ill and thought I would never see it again. Then I found it on a old computer. I had to work a lot with the image. I hope it loads.
Color Pencil over Gesture. It was a contemplative day in the art classroom. Students were drawing self portraits and I had time to join them. Our discussion was on 'Reflection'. The image we see of ourselves in the mirror is not what people see when they look at us. They see the reverse. The mole on my cheek is on the other side of my face, if you were to look at me in person. This leads to discussions of perception and reality. It can be fun and humbling. We cannot live only by sight. We must have a faith of some sort. This reminds me of the Michael Feldman Public Radio Program called: "Whad'Ya Know?" It opens with the audience shouting: "Whad'd Ya Know?" and Michael replying: "Not Much! You?". We do not know much, I think, as much as we like to pretend that we think we do.
As far as things that I can’t seem to shake off are concerned, it’s this fact that a place like Edinburgh where I live is akin to a village where everyone (artist folk in particular) seems to know everyone, and the patterns or quirks that emerge from this said thought process. In most collectives I’m a part of and/or are associated with, there’s what seems like an endless sense of crossover and overlap with fellow artists etc for lack of better words, which is lovely as it is insane... you know? All in all though, even if it drives me mad it does so in a strangely positive way and I’ve learned to live with that. So yeah, make of that what you will. :-)
Words of wisdom that a friend came out with during a Lord Of The Rings Extended Editions film night over the weekend jumpstarted my creative juices this time around. :-)
Being autistic and neurodivergent means I’m liable to mishear things quite a bit, especially when watching films where the sound mixing is utter shite (thanks sensory differences!). On that note, there’s a bit towards the end of Alien where Parker shouts “get out of the room” which I always interpreted as “get ready to roll” for years on end. Only recently did I realise how wrong I was!
Considering it was the final act of the film, I guess I can’t be blamed for assuming as such, right? If you know, you know as they say...
I know there’s probably a few decent folks worth voting for come the general election here in Scotland I’ll settle on, though for the most part the loudest mouthpieces seem to just scream ‘bell-end’ to me...
I was playing around with Google Translate and various sentences I’d jotted down, and opted to go with the closest approximation from English into German for ‘I’m voting for Muppets’, which is 'Ich stimme fur Muppets'. ‘Ich stimme’ read to me as ‘itch stim’ for whatever reason (anglophone and neurodivergent here), which seems rather fitting as the thought of the worst candidates getting in is liable to have us all come out in stress rashes, am I right?
Whenever I’m channel surfing, I often find myself stumbling into a film midway through it’s running time, and tend to stick around if there’s elements that pique my curiosity and just catch my eye etc. My Girl 2, of all films, was one of them this time around.
A line about “barbaric customs” or roundabouts prompted me to pick up my drawing kit...and here we are!
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
