Three months since the last post. Once again it's not for lack of things to write about, but rather where to begin. Wine and poppy seed cake are helping me make a start.
It has taken three months to get back to some semblance of fitness after the hospital incident, but as they say, there is a some good in everything. My invitation to enter a major drawing prize lead not only me producing a large number of drawings, but also to win the award. Drawing was the perfect activity during my recuperation. Inspired by this I put in a proposal for an exhibition of very large drawings which today was accepted. I didn't expect that!
It isn't easy being an artist. I know all my friends with 'real' jobs laugh when I say this, but it's true. It's hardly the romantic picture conjured up in movies of soft lighting, billowing white shirts and lots of wine, food and sex. It's hard. It's messy, expensive and often means months of no income. Top it with being a single parent and try getting a bank loan. I am my bank manager's worst nightmare. Galleries take 40-50% commission, even on prizes; add materials costs, freight and framing, tax and studio rent and before you know it 20% of the selling price is looking pretty good. Despite this, I wouldn't swap my life for any one's. Is it OK to just have a niggling, momentary envy of others who can buy nice face creams, wine and shoes?!? Momentary because as soon as I open the newspaper and see what others are going through around the world I feel fortunate and petty for thinking otherwise.
The Boyfriend remains, and I have yet to make sense of it all. Officially homeless, he recently bought a flat not far from me. He's in that awkward stage of settlement being too soon to rent elsewhere, but nothing so short-term being available. The Teenager and our own small home make it difficult for me to offer more than a few days at a time, and a relationship based on needs rather than desire isn't the best. I've put it in the 'review later' basket for now. Meanwhile we still have some fun amongst the chaos. For all the chaos I still seem to attract some media interest; another publication is about to do a feature on my home. It's great but it would be really great if they would write about my work instead of my home, for a change.
I have so much more to catch up on, but at this moment I need my bed. Enough wine and cake, and enough of a ginger cat who has just discovered poppy seed cake. Surely it can't be that good for him?
Friday, November 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Emergency wards and mending musings
What is up with this year?
For a couple of weeks I have been feeling a bit run down but 'pressed on' as most single parents do, until suddenly I was in such crippling pain that my doctor sent me straight to the emergency department at the local hospital. Almost a week later and I am finally home with a bagful of drugs, recovering from both pleurisy and pneumonia.
It was a strange experience for us all. The Teenager suddenly found herself having to fend for herself, The Boyfriend was without a date and my life as I know it went into 'holding pattern'. Now that I am home I still need to rest, and so am embarking on reducing all the paperwork that still needs catching up on after six months of writing, painting and exhibiting. But nothing really went wrong whilst I was away.
This evening as I made a valiant attempt at 'mending' The Boyfriend's favourite shirt and trousers (which I would have put in the paint rag basket myself if it weren't for the the fact that they were Paul Smith and Hugo Boss) I found myself musing as to how this year has unfolded. I haven't 'mended' any man's clothing since my husband's, and we separated over a decade ago. It feels weird. There has been a subtle shift in The Teenager's attitude since my hospital stint. She is suddenly making gestures of independence. And I am more relaxed.
So here I am, stuck at home recuperating during the biggest art week of the year, missing out on all the openings and closings, parties and after-parties, lectures and forums, champagne and canapes, schmoozing and gossiping, but I am OK. Not happy about it, but I am OK.
One small compensation, I have been selected for a fairly salubrious invitation-only drawing prize. Now I just have to get better and get drawing.
For a couple of weeks I have been feeling a bit run down but 'pressed on' as most single parents do, until suddenly I was in such crippling pain that my doctor sent me straight to the emergency department at the local hospital. Almost a week later and I am finally home with a bagful of drugs, recovering from both pleurisy and pneumonia.
It was a strange experience for us all. The Teenager suddenly found herself having to fend for herself, The Boyfriend was without a date and my life as I know it went into 'holding pattern'. Now that I am home I still need to rest, and so am embarking on reducing all the paperwork that still needs catching up on after six months of writing, painting and exhibiting. But nothing really went wrong whilst I was away.
This evening as I made a valiant attempt at 'mending' The Boyfriend's favourite shirt and trousers (which I would have put in the paint rag basket myself if it weren't for the the fact that they were Paul Smith and Hugo Boss) I found myself musing as to how this year has unfolded. I haven't 'mended' any man's clothing since my husband's, and we separated over a decade ago. It feels weird. There has been a subtle shift in The Teenager's attitude since my hospital stint. She is suddenly making gestures of independence. And I am more relaxed.
So here I am, stuck at home recuperating during the biggest art week of the year, missing out on all the openings and closings, parties and after-parties, lectures and forums, champagne and canapes, schmoozing and gossiping, but I am OK. Not happy about it, but I am OK.
One small compensation, I have been selected for a fairly salubrious invitation-only drawing prize. Now I just have to get better and get drawing.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Why I paint
At a time when life can seem hectic and focus sometimes elusive, it is my work that returns me to a place of quietude and reflection. In considering the poignancy of small detail, the subtleties of light and the forming of connection, I find my voice and make the work. There are no distinctions or boundaries between my life and my work, it is all connected. It is the everyday observances as well as the extraordinary that influence and inspire me. The child of peripatetic parents, distance and connection have long been both my comfort, and my torment.
Between any two points lies a gap, their distance only defined by their distancing, and within that distance lays their connection.
Within the gap the points may be close, such as is the case with family, self and other, or far, such as in two points in time, but inevitably there is a link. Like most artists, one of the major concerns underpinning my work lies in not only making connections, but in trying to form connections that others might also relate to, and find meaningful. It is the quality I seek most, however for me it is a difficult subject to put into words when painting about it comes more readily. The work I make reflects both ends of my sense of, or search for, connection and filling the void that lies between.
In between I search for the words and images to bridge the gaps, the gap between concept and thing, the physical and the imagined, memory and experience, the intuited and the observed, the tangible and the intangible.
As a source of inspiration in my search for meaning and connection it is the both the phenomenological aspects of light and the ambiguities between our perception of shadow and reduced visibility which produce subtle colouring, and the minutiae and often over-looked poignancy's that I find most engaging, whether it is the physical traces of where others have been, such as the worn-down stone steps at the entrance of a centuries old European church, the ephemeral traces of weathering and time on matter such as the foxing of an old mirror, the lustre of weathered metal, old paint peeling off walls, doors and frescoes, water-stained paper or cloth, rust marks, translucent wax, sagging glass, somebody else's hand print. Traces of others having been, which remind us of our place in an ever changing world. We are connected by what we leave behind. Consider this.
Between any two points lies a gap, their distance only defined by their distancing, and within that distance lays their connection.
Within the gap the points may be close, such as is the case with family, self and other, or far, such as in two points in time, but inevitably there is a link. Like most artists, one of the major concerns underpinning my work lies in not only making connections, but in trying to form connections that others might also relate to, and find meaningful. It is the quality I seek most, however for me it is a difficult subject to put into words when painting about it comes more readily. The work I make reflects both ends of my sense of, or search for, connection and filling the void that lies between.
In between I search for the words and images to bridge the gaps, the gap between concept and thing, the physical and the imagined, memory and experience, the intuited and the observed, the tangible and the intangible.
As a source of inspiration in my search for meaning and connection it is the both the phenomenological aspects of light and the ambiguities between our perception of shadow and reduced visibility which produce subtle colouring, and the minutiae and often over-looked poignancy's that I find most engaging, whether it is the physical traces of where others have been, such as the worn-down stone steps at the entrance of a centuries old European church, the ephemeral traces of weathering and time on matter such as the foxing of an old mirror, the lustre of weathered metal, old paint peeling off walls, doors and frescoes, water-stained paper or cloth, rust marks, translucent wax, sagging glass, somebody else's hand print. Traces of others having been, which remind us of our place in an ever changing world. We are connected by what we leave behind. Consider this.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
On losing a friend
Shortly after starting this blog I mentioned my local community. My 'hood' and how much I love it. The family I have when I have no other family in this country. On Saturday we lost one of our finest members.
About six years ago D was diagnosed with cancer. The 'hood' rallied round, funds were raised and treatment sought. D pushed through, returned to make my coffee every morning, and continued to be the warm, generous, funny and wise woman that all of us who frequented her delicatessen loved. Great stories of the weekends adventures, late nights clubbing, meals cooked and eaten, local gossip, love-life advice, we loved it all. From time to time she went back for more treatment, but before long she was back at the espresso machine. Until further treatment was no longer an option.
A week ago I went to help celebrate her 44th birthday. It was a huge bash, happy but sad, as D and her guests fought to hold back the tears and laugh instead. To smile, laugh and have fun with the woman we all loved. One week later and she is dead. She lived her life to the fullest, with courage, love and the very best of friends.
We will miss her enormously, always. And I am reminded to make the most of every moment, to treasure my friends and family, and be the best I can be. Now.
About six years ago D was diagnosed with cancer. The 'hood' rallied round, funds were raised and treatment sought. D pushed through, returned to make my coffee every morning, and continued to be the warm, generous, funny and wise woman that all of us who frequented her delicatessen loved. Great stories of the weekends adventures, late nights clubbing, meals cooked and eaten, local gossip, love-life advice, we loved it all. From time to time she went back for more treatment, but before long she was back at the espresso machine. Until further treatment was no longer an option.
A week ago I went to help celebrate her 44th birthday. It was a huge bash, happy but sad, as D and her guests fought to hold back the tears and laugh instead. To smile, laugh and have fun with the woman we all loved. One week later and she is dead. She lived her life to the fullest, with courage, love and the very best of friends.
We will miss her enormously, always. And I am reminded to make the most of every moment, to treasure my friends and family, and be the best I can be. Now.
Friday, May 28, 2010
On being overwhelmed
I am writing with a bandaged hand and a glass of wine, it's been a long day. Actually it's been a long month.
To keep it short, in this month:
To keep it short, in this month:
- I've had two solo exhibitions in different cities
- Been short-listed for a major prize
- Featured in a glossy magazine
- Adopted a wild cat
- Spent half the night in ER due to same cat
- Ridden the tsunami of The Teenager's anxieties, daily
- Ditto The Boyfriend's
- Seen very little of my friends
- Had little support from The Teenager's father
It's been a big month and I'm not sure where to begin, but this is a start.
x Sunday
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Alive if not active!
I cannot believe it is now almost two months since my last post. Things have never been so hectic. In the past two months I have:
- Handed in my thesis on a topic I barely understand myself, dealing with the subject of spatial perception and connection in painting.
- Presented an exhibition to go with it.
- Taken my beloved, if terminally ill cat (and neighbourhood hero) to the vet only to be told it must be his last day. I cried for weeks (and still do).
- Participated in a fabulous group show with some major artists.
- Lost my favourite dealer and supporter to cancer, and cried some more.
- Been invited to join a new gallery and present a solo exhibition, opening in a couple of weeks.
- Prepared for another solo show elsewhere, also opening in a few weeks.
- Forgotten how to cook.
- Participated in another group show.
- Pretty much lost my social life.
And the list goes on. The Boyfriend (yes, formerly known as The Lodger!) and I are still together despite my manic hours, he seems to be fairly understanding of my need to paint almost every waking hour, and gives me the space I need; The Teenager (not a teen for much longer) tries to be understanding but is occupied with her own life and concerns.
In the midst of all this I am looking down the barrel of The Milestone Birthday. Soon. Very soon. Somewhere between solo show openings lurks not only mine, but also The Teenager's Major Birthdays. Not that I have time to think about it too much right now, but I am afraid, very afraid. Shall I ignore it as I have valid reason to, or celebrate? I don't know!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Finished!
Today I finished my thesis, oh happy day!
13,638 words and two years later, it is done. I hand it in today, and get my life back. Just in time, as The Teenager and The Boyfriend are sick to death of it, and me, almost. Champagne tonight!
More soon,
x Sunday
13,638 words and two years later, it is done. I hand it in today, and get my life back. Just in time, as The Teenager and The Boyfriend are sick to death of it, and me, almost. Champagne tonight!
More soon,
x Sunday
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The Teenager Countdown
In less than 24 hours The Teenager returns after an incredible seven month trip abroad. The calm before the storm, I am bracing myself for her return. I live in hope that travel has broadened her views and expanded her tolerance. Maybe even taught her to appreciate all that she has here at home. We shall see!
The Boyfriend (formerly The Lodger!) appears somewhat nervous as all my friends ask if he has met The Teenager yet, and said helpful things like 'wait until you do'. He is now ensconced in his own apartment, and we will hopefully manage to commute between mine and his. It has been a very long time since I last had a boyfriend 'sleep-over', and will no doubt present new challenges with TT.
The thesis is growing slowly, and I have just been invited to join a new gallery, AND be their exhibitor in a major international exhibition. I am so excited, and it is such a huge honour. The small hitch is that I must inform my old gallery that I am leaving. It has been on the cards, for me, for a while, and this is such a great opportunity.
More from the front-line soon, no doubt.
x Sunday
The Boyfriend (formerly The Lodger!) appears somewhat nervous as all my friends ask if he has met The Teenager yet, and said helpful things like 'wait until you do'. He is now ensconced in his own apartment, and we will hopefully manage to commute between mine and his. It has been a very long time since I last had a boyfriend 'sleep-over', and will no doubt present new challenges with TT.
The thesis is growing slowly, and I have just been invited to join a new gallery, AND be their exhibitor in a major international exhibition. I am so excited, and it is such a huge honour. The small hitch is that I must inform my old gallery that I am leaving. It has been on the cards, for me, for a while, and this is such a great opportunity.
More from the front-line soon, no doubt.
x Sunday
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A brief update
Hello to my two followers (and counsellor, if you are keeping tabs on me)!
I am absent only because I have knuckled down to write, and read, and re-write. My thesis is due soon and I have miles to go. I look forward to having more time to blather and muse once I am finished, but I do enjoy reading your posts.
In the midst of this I have most inconveniently fallen in love, yes, with The Lodger. Fortunately it is reciprocal and all is well.
The Teenager returns soon, in just a few weeks after seven months away, and no doubt there will be many tales of her re-entry and the reconfiguring of our relationship. Not to mention the introduction of The Lodger, from here on known as The Boyfriend!
Until then, I wish you all a fabulous 2010.
x Sunday
I am absent only because I have knuckled down to write, and read, and re-write. My thesis is due soon and I have miles to go. I look forward to having more time to blather and muse once I am finished, but I do enjoy reading your posts.
In the midst of this I have most inconveniently fallen in love, yes, with The Lodger. Fortunately it is reciprocal and all is well.
The Teenager returns soon, in just a few weeks after seven months away, and no doubt there will be many tales of her re-entry and the reconfiguring of our relationship. Not to mention the introduction of The Lodger, from here on known as The Boyfriend!
Until then, I wish you all a fabulous 2010.
x Sunday
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Learning slowly
Things are never what they seem. After two dreadful nights sleeping separately, with, to quote Bruce Springsteen,‘ a freight train running through the middle of my head’, and a stomach churning with anxiety and distress, The Lodger and I are back on.
What do you do when life throws something unexpected at you? I certainly wasn’t expecting a paying guest to become a lover, and a friend. And recently out of a marriage I’m sure it was the last thing he was expecting as well.
So, I have learnt to relax, and chill. I have had it with stressful relationships. I have learnt to take it one day at a time, that the less you expect, the more you receive, and the more you value what you have. I have spent years in relationships worrying needlessly, when things have a way of working themselves out anyway.
Things are good, I have no idea where they are heading, but I am attempting to,live life with grace and calmness, one day at a time, and it feels good.
What do you do when life throws something unexpected at you? I certainly wasn’t expecting a paying guest to become a lover, and a friend. And recently out of a marriage I’m sure it was the last thing he was expecting as well.
So, I have learnt to relax, and chill. I have had it with stressful relationships. I have learnt to take it one day at a time, that the less you expect, the more you receive, and the more you value what you have. I have spent years in relationships worrying needlessly, when things have a way of working themselves out anyway.
Things are good, I have no idea where they are heading, but I am attempting to,live life with grace and calmness, one day at a time, and it feels good.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The interference of feelings
Somewhere along the line during the last month I have fallen from being smitten to being bemused, besotted and finally, broken. Yes, I fell totally for the lodger. I have spent the last four weeks with a man in my bed who has made me laugh, think, eat and drink, and it has been bliss.
Unfortunately we are not in the same place, recently single he is in no way ready to leap into another relationship. And I would be deeply wary of anyone who was. But it seems that I appear to want more than he does, and perhaps I do. Not today, not this month, but maybe later, when he is ready. Sadly today my growing feelings have made him feel cornered, he has withdrawn, and I am left feeling confused and abandoned.
It seems after one marriage, one great love and numerous short-term relationships I still understand very little about men. However I do know that I am best to look after myself, continue to live well, live in the moment, and be positive about all that I do have. But it still hurts, and even though he remains under the same roof I miss him madly.
Unfortunately we are not in the same place, recently single he is in no way ready to leap into another relationship. And I would be deeply wary of anyone who was. But it seems that I appear to want more than he does, and perhaps I do. Not today, not this month, but maybe later, when he is ready. Sadly today my growing feelings have made him feel cornered, he has withdrawn, and I am left feeling confused and abandoned.
It seems after one marriage, one great love and numerous short-term relationships I still understand very little about men. However I do know that I am best to look after myself, continue to live well, live in the moment, and be positive about all that I do have. But it still hurts, and even though he remains under the same roof I miss him madly.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Teenager
Despite it now being five months since the teenager set off on her Grand Adventure, I feel very much like a part of her is still very close to home. It doesn’t really change that much. Instead of receiving calls asking what’s for dinner and what time will you be home, or can you pick me up/drop me off, now I get texts and emails, a sample of which are below, they arrive at all hours. It’s astonishing really.
• I can’t check into my hostel for four hours, can you Google where I can leave my bags?
• I’m lost; can you tell me where I am?
• I love you.
• The train lurched whilst I was peeing and I slipped on the seat, will I get Aids?
• I’ve lost my bankcard and have no money.
• What’s Western Union, stop talking about it, I don’t know what you mean.
• Thanks for sending the money through Western Union.
• Can you please stop texting me, it’s costing me too much money.
• Why don’t you text me, don’t you care?
• How many calories in a sweet potato, can you please Google it?
• What thank you present should I buy great aunt P for having me? (3.50 am)
• There’s no florist near here. (4.00 am)
• Sorry for waking you. (4.40 am)
• I don’t have my new pin number, and have no money. (3.25 am)
• The bank has given me an advance, I’m ok. (4.15 am)
• Sorry to wake you, I love you. (5.00 am)
• Skype me now. You look tired, what have you been doing?
I am exhausted.
• I can’t check into my hostel for four hours, can you Google where I can leave my bags?
• I’m lost; can you tell me where I am?
• I love you.
• The train lurched whilst I was peeing and I slipped on the seat, will I get Aids?
• I’ve lost my bankcard and have no money.
• What’s Western Union, stop talking about it, I don’t know what you mean.
• Thanks for sending the money through Western Union.
• Can you please stop texting me, it’s costing me too much money.
• Why don’t you text me, don’t you care?
• How many calories in a sweet potato, can you please Google it?
• What thank you present should I buy great aunt P for having me? (3.50 am)
• There’s no florist near here. (4.00 am)
• Sorry for waking you. (4.40 am)
• I don’t have my new pin number, and have no money. (3.25 am)
• The bank has given me an advance, I’m ok. (4.15 am)
• Sorry to wake you, I love you. (5.00 am)
• Skype me now. You look tired, what have you been doing?
I am exhausted.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Signs of the times
I have always loved my neighbourhood for its diversity of residents, workers and visitors. Originally a poor working-class inner city suburb, and largely industrial, it has over time given way to migrant families with front gardens full of vegetables rather than flowers, artists looking for affordable space in which to work, and young urban professionals who fancy the cool edginess of it all. Cafes, bookshops and uber cool restaurants have moved in and our neighbourhood is slowly changing.
When I first moved in heroin was cheap, readily available and it’s users highly visible on the street. Needles were often left on our doorstep, and frequently littered the gutters. The users were a part of our community, and for the most part either walked the streets, or sat nodding off on street benches. They in no way ever threatened us or our sense of safety. I have always felt that witnessing that part of our community put my daughter in good stead, and it has. She is street-wise, safe and smart. At nineteen she is often offered an array of drugs at parties and clubs, and any parent that thinks this does not happen is deluding themselves. Unlike some of her friends who have lead more sheltered lives, she has no desire to take part in it.
For whatever reason, the last ten years or so the users, along with the needles, have for the large part, disappeared from our neighbourhood. Possibly the methadone programs available have provided an alternate solution, rent and housing prices have gone up, or it’s just been too expensive or hard to get. I don’t know. What I do know is that this week I have noticed a return of the spaced-out wandering our streets, and the occasional needle in the laneways. Is there a parallel to the slow recovery from the GFC? Is heroin plentiful and cheap again? Is it the thought of the holiday season looming, or is life just getting too hard?
Today I saw one of our regular homeless men wandering in the street, rake-thin, dishevelled and out of it. I was saddened to see him in this state as he’s always been a bit of a curious hero to me. He is handsome, cheeky, smart, and has a devilish smile. If there were a film made of his life, Johnny Depp would play his role. For years he has taken it upon himself to collect rubbish in our streets, bagging it and binning it like a man possessed, his only reward the occasional bit of spare change from a passer-by. If you stopped and talked to him, it was always a treat, listening to his views on politics, philosophy and music. Once I saw him drive past in a convertible sports car with the top down, and grinning from ear to ear. As I said, he is a curious man. Seeing him today so thin, so out of it prompted me to write this post. As I watched him barely managing to walk a straight line, he stopped to pick up a stray leaf from the road, and put it in his pocket. Bless him.
And for the record, yes I remain smitten with the lodger.
When I first moved in heroin was cheap, readily available and it’s users highly visible on the street. Needles were often left on our doorstep, and frequently littered the gutters. The users were a part of our community, and for the most part either walked the streets, or sat nodding off on street benches. They in no way ever threatened us or our sense of safety. I have always felt that witnessing that part of our community put my daughter in good stead, and it has. She is street-wise, safe and smart. At nineteen she is often offered an array of drugs at parties and clubs, and any parent that thinks this does not happen is deluding themselves. Unlike some of her friends who have lead more sheltered lives, she has no desire to take part in it.
For whatever reason, the last ten years or so the users, along with the needles, have for the large part, disappeared from our neighbourhood. Possibly the methadone programs available have provided an alternate solution, rent and housing prices have gone up, or it’s just been too expensive or hard to get. I don’t know. What I do know is that this week I have noticed a return of the spaced-out wandering our streets, and the occasional needle in the laneways. Is there a parallel to the slow recovery from the GFC? Is heroin plentiful and cheap again? Is it the thought of the holiday season looming, or is life just getting too hard?
Today I saw one of our regular homeless men wandering in the street, rake-thin, dishevelled and out of it. I was saddened to see him in this state as he’s always been a bit of a curious hero to me. He is handsome, cheeky, smart, and has a devilish smile. If there were a film made of his life, Johnny Depp would play his role. For years he has taken it upon himself to collect rubbish in our streets, bagging it and binning it like a man possessed, his only reward the occasional bit of spare change from a passer-by. If you stopped and talked to him, it was always a treat, listening to his views on politics, philosophy and music. Once I saw him drive past in a convertible sports car with the top down, and grinning from ear to ear. As I said, he is a curious man. Seeing him today so thin, so out of it prompted me to write this post. As I watched him barely managing to walk a straight line, he stopped to pick up a stray leaf from the road, and put it in his pocket. Bless him.
And for the record, yes I remain smitten with the lodger.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
On being smitten
I admit it. I am completely smitten. It's ridiculous, but I have a schoolgirl crush on the Paying Guest. I blush, trip over my words, squeak, and generally fumble about. I'm sure that he thinks I'm completely mad. Fortunately he is away for a few days, so I will try to collect myself and regain some composure.
But it has made me rethink men. More specifically what is it that attracts us? I know we compiled a fantastic list of the things that we DON'T fancy in men (see the lovely notSupermum for the complete Harry High-Pants No-No List), but what are the things that DO attract us?
Clearly in my case I have thrown all, or most, of my tick-list out the window on this one. The PG is not George Clooney, or Johnny Depp. He is dishevelled, bumbling, pudgy and should seriously rethink his sideburns. But he is kind, funny, intelligent and interesting. He is passionate about food and the cooking, eating and ethics of it, and has chosen to abandon a 'sensible' career in order to follow his passion. I think I fell whilst watching him cook, mixing the salad with his hands. Talk about sexy.
So, what really turns us on? For starters I propose the following:
But it has made me rethink men. More specifically what is it that attracts us? I know we compiled a fantastic list of the things that we DON'T fancy in men (see the lovely notSupermum for the complete Harry High-Pants No-No List), but what are the things that DO attract us?
Clearly in my case I have thrown all, or most, of my tick-list out the window on this one. The PG is not George Clooney, or Johnny Depp. He is dishevelled, bumbling, pudgy and should seriously rethink his sideburns. But he is kind, funny, intelligent and interesting. He is passionate about food and the cooking, eating and ethics of it, and has chosen to abandon a 'sensible' career in order to follow his passion. I think I fell whilst watching him cook, mixing the salad with his hands. Talk about sexy.
So, what really turns us on? For starters I propose the following:
- Good personal hygiene. Not obsessive, just clean and nice-smelling
- Kindness
- Humour
- A passion for something
- A good smile
- A good mind
- (a new personal favourite) the ability to cook
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tales of the lodger
I suspect this blog may turn to regular tales of the lodger, and I wonder how long he will last. So far he shows remarkable patience and good humour, bless. On his first night the cat peed on his clothes. On the second, in his shoes. He now knows to put them away.
Last night at dinner I failed to notice that one of the candles had burnt down to stumps, and the table was on fire! And the cat threw up next to us, for good measure. Fawlty Towers? I can't wait to see what happens next!
Last night at dinner I failed to notice that one of the candles had burnt down to stumps, and the table was on fire! And the cat threw up next to us, for good measure. Fawlty Towers? I can't wait to see what happens next!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A new housemate!
The past six weeks or so, since my return from a wonderful and decadent university-funded month in Italy, (along with a few extra kilos!), has been somewhat of a blur. Re-entry to life without The Teenager (still travelling) has been mixed, it was so good to see her but just when I am really missing her she sends me an urgent text message or email requiring immediate action on my part, reminding me of the aspects I enjoy about her temporary absence.
• A tidy(ish) house.
• Privacy in my love-life (if only I had one!)
• Cooking what I want to eat, when I want to, and the time to work late if I wish.
• The time to attempt to get to grips with my thesis, and to focus on my career.
• The time to go out with friends and skip dinner altogether, which is probably not such a great idea, given the tumbles I have taken navigating my way home on my bicycle!
On other matters:
Along with many others, the GFC has not been kind to artists, although the dealers are saying that the market is slowly recovering. Many friends, excellent artists, have had dismal sales of late, me included. As a result I have taken on a bit of teaching, and more interestingly, a Paying Guest. Yes, I have let out The Teenager’s room. It took a massive amount of effort to pack up all her belongings, and find somewhere to store them (my bedroom, great!), and there were some interesting finds under the bed. Perhaps David Attenborough could do a series on Life under Teenagers Beds. However, now the room is pristine, the PG is ensconced, and we are slowly familiarising ourselves with each other’s idiosyncrasies. We’ve broken the ice with breakfast in our pyjamas, and a little too much wine after dinner (dangerous as I tend to get ‘beer goggles’ after a few drinks!). The cat took it upon himself to test out our new housemate by peeing on his clothes. Fortunately he took it in his stride, and handled it with good grace. And he now knows not to leave his clothes on the floor.
Despite the lack of sales, I have had a very good year critically, been short-listed for several prizes, and had very positive feedback from my university supervisor and my dealers about my work. I also have a very supportive counsellor who helps me steer my way with both The Teenager, The Ex and life in general. To reinforce her support she has recently purchased a large work of mine. Although things have been difficult I am fortunate and appreciative to have these people around me. And I am confident it will be better soon.
X Sunday
• A tidy(ish) house.
• Privacy in my love-life (if only I had one!)
• Cooking what I want to eat, when I want to, and the time to work late if I wish.
• The time to attempt to get to grips with my thesis, and to focus on my career.
• The time to go out with friends and skip dinner altogether, which is probably not such a great idea, given the tumbles I have taken navigating my way home on my bicycle!
On other matters:
Along with many others, the GFC has not been kind to artists, although the dealers are saying that the market is slowly recovering. Many friends, excellent artists, have had dismal sales of late, me included. As a result I have taken on a bit of teaching, and more interestingly, a Paying Guest. Yes, I have let out The Teenager’s room. It took a massive amount of effort to pack up all her belongings, and find somewhere to store them (my bedroom, great!), and there were some interesting finds under the bed. Perhaps David Attenborough could do a series on Life under Teenagers Beds. However, now the room is pristine, the PG is ensconced, and we are slowly familiarising ourselves with each other’s idiosyncrasies. We’ve broken the ice with breakfast in our pyjamas, and a little too much wine after dinner (dangerous as I tend to get ‘beer goggles’ after a few drinks!). The cat took it upon himself to test out our new housemate by peeing on his clothes. Fortunately he took it in his stride, and handled it with good grace. And he now knows not to leave his clothes on the floor.
Despite the lack of sales, I have had a very good year critically, been short-listed for several prizes, and had very positive feedback from my university supervisor and my dealers about my work. I also have a very supportive counsellor who helps me steer my way with both The Teenager, The Ex and life in general. To reinforce her support she has recently purchased a large work of mine. Although things have been difficult I am fortunate and appreciative to have these people around me. And I am confident it will be better soon.
X Sunday
Sunday, October 4, 2009
In the Deep End!
Call me petty, immature even, but what is with women who go to water aerobics exercise classes and don’t want to get their hair wet? I know it can be a pain having to dry your hair afterwards, and can discolour highlights, but really, if you’re that fussed about your ‘do’ maybe a land-based form of exercise might be an idea? Or God-forbid, invest in a bathing cap? It isn’t necessary to get drenched, but some splashing should be tolerated as inevitable.
I attend such a class regularly, mainly in order to keep somewhat trim, enough so that I can eat and drink as much as I like, the fitness is a just a perk! But, there is always one, isn’t there? ‘Duck-bum’ also attends regularly, and obviously has a weekly set at the hairdressers. It is so coiffed I swear it wouldn’t move in a hurricane. And she does not like me, or rather my enthusiasm for the class. Inevitably we end up next to each other, and goaded by her tutting and huffing, I have become even more enthusiastic, and oops, occasionally her hair gets a light splash! Why this amuses me so much I am not sure, but clearly she does not share my sense of humour! Am I being over-the-top?
I attend such a class regularly, mainly in order to keep somewhat trim, enough so that I can eat and drink as much as I like, the fitness is a just a perk! But, there is always one, isn’t there? ‘Duck-bum’ also attends regularly, and obviously has a weekly set at the hairdressers. It is so coiffed I swear it wouldn’t move in a hurricane. And she does not like me, or rather my enthusiasm for the class. Inevitably we end up next to each other, and goaded by her tutting and huffing, I have become even more enthusiastic, and oops, occasionally her hair gets a light splash! Why this amuses me so much I am not sure, but clearly she does not share my sense of humour! Am I being over-the-top?
Monday, September 28, 2009
The trials and tyranny of a teenager’s diet
The Teenager has for the last few years been on a self-imposed diet, of sorts. It changes form from time to time, but the desired end result remains the same. Basically she wishes to be rake thin, similar to the model images she sees in magazines and blogs. This is at odds with a girl who loves food and cooking. But she is 19 and vulnerable, and I pray that this will pass.
For several years now all forms of ‘carbs’ have been off-limits, pasta, rice, bread and potatoes. Fortunately she seems to think oats are ok. Recently she made the switch to soy rather than dairy. Nuts are now a no-no. Omelettes are made with egg whites only, and she is forever hungry. To combat this she eats vast amounts – breakfast may be a large bowl of oats with soy milk and apple, but a couple of hours later she is hungry again, and munching on another piece of fruit. Enormous salads (no oil) for lunch. All very healthy, but just so much.
The sad thing is that she is not over-weight, but rather a healthy ‘normal’ size 10, well-proportioned shape and size. And beautiful. How she sees herself is somewhat different, adjectives such as “obese, morbidly obese, huge, fat, and ugly” regularly spring from her lips. How others see her bothers her greatly as she believes everyone sees her as she imagines herself to be. As a parent it is both disturbing, and heart-breaking to hear.
Certainly all that she does eat is healthy, partly perhaps because as a family we’ve always been into fresh and seasonal food, and she exercises daily. Yet despite all her efforts, her body shape remains much the same. She is gorgeous, and often told so, but she still cannot get it. Being a ‘foodie’ doesn’t help; imagine her dismay in Italy when presented with great meal choices that she cannot allow herself to have.
I’ve tried offering help such as counselling, shiatsu (for anxiety, which she did try, and seemed to help), talking about it, and not talking about it. It seems to be something she has to work through herself. As her physical health is not in danger, I feel we need to ride it out, and just be there for her. Thankfully, these self-depreciating sessions do not last long, and 90% of the time I have a happy, confident, out-going and well-mannered teenager on my hands. It's just that other 10% that is a bit exhausting.
For several years now all forms of ‘carbs’ have been off-limits, pasta, rice, bread and potatoes. Fortunately she seems to think oats are ok. Recently she made the switch to soy rather than dairy. Nuts are now a no-no. Omelettes are made with egg whites only, and she is forever hungry. To combat this she eats vast amounts – breakfast may be a large bowl of oats with soy milk and apple, but a couple of hours later she is hungry again, and munching on another piece of fruit. Enormous salads (no oil) for lunch. All very healthy, but just so much.
The sad thing is that she is not over-weight, but rather a healthy ‘normal’ size 10, well-proportioned shape and size. And beautiful. How she sees herself is somewhat different, adjectives such as “obese, morbidly obese, huge, fat, and ugly” regularly spring from her lips. How others see her bothers her greatly as she believes everyone sees her as she imagines herself to be. As a parent it is both disturbing, and heart-breaking to hear.
Certainly all that she does eat is healthy, partly perhaps because as a family we’ve always been into fresh and seasonal food, and she exercises daily. Yet despite all her efforts, her body shape remains much the same. She is gorgeous, and often told so, but she still cannot get it. Being a ‘foodie’ doesn’t help; imagine her dismay in Italy when presented with great meal choices that she cannot allow herself to have.
I’ve tried offering help such as counselling, shiatsu (for anxiety, which she did try, and seemed to help), talking about it, and not talking about it. It seems to be something she has to work through herself. As her physical health is not in danger, I feel we need to ride it out, and just be there for her. Thankfully, these self-depreciating sessions do not last long, and 90% of the time I have a happy, confident, out-going and well-mannered teenager on my hands. It's just that other 10% that is a bit exhausting.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I am in love.......
with almost all things Italian.
I have returned home after nearly missing my flight due to having slipped into a totally relaxed holiday state and forgetting my actual departure date. By chance I happened to check my ticket only to discover that I was due to leave that afternoon! A mad dash to throw my belongings into my bag, a hasty farewell to my mother before my father, my daughter and I sped off to Rome. I'm never good at goodbyes at the best of times, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. The hardest part was saying goodbye to The Teenager at the airport as I won't be seeing her again until after Christmas. When she first proposed taking a gap year between school and university I was a tiny bit hesitant, but having seen just how much she has learnt from travelling, organising herself, budgeting and surviving, I am now 100 percent behind the concept. She has managed magnificently, seen all that she should, had fun and adventures, and met some great people along the way. It was fabulous to have three weeks with her, and to see just how well she is doing. Of course she still had her moments, which reminded me of the aspects of being home alone that I am currently enjoying!
Italy. Such a dreamy time to visit, sunny days and cooler evenings, I was in heaven. Morning cappuccinos and pre-dinner proseccos at the bar, idling away the time thinking about lunch and dinner, whilst surreptitiously keeping an eye on the gorgeous Italian men who just get the look right, seemingly without effort. Great jeans, crumpled linen shirts and loafers with no socks, why do so many men of the world get it so wrong?
Of course whilst it was wonderful to be with family and friends, I was conscious of my study duties, and did actually set aside time for things other than food, wine and gazing at men. The beautiful sketchbook given to me did get a few drawings in it, and the notebooks are filled with notes taken whilst looking at great works of art.
I spent a week in Venice looking at art both old and new, as well as revisiting some old favourites, of which Bellini is one. A week of expensive food, cheap wine and good coffee. A week of getting lost in all the lane ways (and making a mental note not to retire there, imagine living in Venice and having Alzheimer's!), discovering great hidden bars and cafes, meandering through the markets and wishing I had a kitchen, a week of mostly rain and still finding it incredibly beautiful, a week of seeing Turner in every view, and a week of wishing I had more money to shop!
Of the Biennale, there was the usual mix of the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Whilst there were some interesting artists at the Giardini, it was the Arsenale that I most loved. Despite some flooding at the end of the building (and what an incredible building it is!) everyone was very good-natured about it all and simply took off their shoes and waded through in bare feet. One of the most poetic works for me was by Ceal Floyer, whose work was the simple projection of a bonsai tree. Unmanicured, it was projected to the size that the actual tree would have become had it not been confined to its pot. The artist's statement talked of the literality being a conceptual tool to represent hidden or repressed truths, but I also saw it as an optimistic work, that spoke of potential and growth despite handicaps or outside pressure. Perhaps I was thinking of The Teenager.
Now it is back to the brushes, and more importantly, cracking on with my thesis, something I always seem to avoid by finding other things to do (such as this blog!). If only I was as good at writing as I am at procrastinating. The cat is beside himself with joy to have me home again, and all is well. I miss my daughter madly, but know that she is well and having a fantastic experience that will only enrich the wonderful young woman she is becoming. I have been home less than 48 hours, and have hit the ground running, but I will hang on as tightly as I can to the wonderful calm and memories that I have brought home with me. And think about what sort of risotto I will cook for dinner!
I have returned home after nearly missing my flight due to having slipped into a totally relaxed holiday state and forgetting my actual departure date. By chance I happened to check my ticket only to discover that I was due to leave that afternoon! A mad dash to throw my belongings into my bag, a hasty farewell to my mother before my father, my daughter and I sped off to Rome. I'm never good at goodbyes at the best of times, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. The hardest part was saying goodbye to The Teenager at the airport as I won't be seeing her again until after Christmas. When she first proposed taking a gap year between school and university I was a tiny bit hesitant, but having seen just how much she has learnt from travelling, organising herself, budgeting and surviving, I am now 100 percent behind the concept. She has managed magnificently, seen all that she should, had fun and adventures, and met some great people along the way. It was fabulous to have three weeks with her, and to see just how well she is doing. Of course she still had her moments, which reminded me of the aspects of being home alone that I am currently enjoying!
Italy. Such a dreamy time to visit, sunny days and cooler evenings, I was in heaven. Morning cappuccinos and pre-dinner proseccos at the bar, idling away the time thinking about lunch and dinner, whilst surreptitiously keeping an eye on the gorgeous Italian men who just get the look right, seemingly without effort. Great jeans, crumpled linen shirts and loafers with no socks, why do so many men of the world get it so wrong?
Of course whilst it was wonderful to be with family and friends, I was conscious of my study duties, and did actually set aside time for things other than food, wine and gazing at men. The beautiful sketchbook given to me did get a few drawings in it, and the notebooks are filled with notes taken whilst looking at great works of art.
I spent a week in Venice looking at art both old and new, as well as revisiting some old favourites, of which Bellini is one. A week of expensive food, cheap wine and good coffee. A week of getting lost in all the lane ways (and making a mental note not to retire there, imagine living in Venice and having Alzheimer's!), discovering great hidden bars and cafes, meandering through the markets and wishing I had a kitchen, a week of mostly rain and still finding it incredibly beautiful, a week of seeing Turner in every view, and a week of wishing I had more money to shop!
Of the Biennale, there was the usual mix of the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Whilst there were some interesting artists at the Giardini, it was the Arsenale that I most loved. Despite some flooding at the end of the building (and what an incredible building it is!) everyone was very good-natured about it all and simply took off their shoes and waded through in bare feet. One of the most poetic works for me was by Ceal Floyer, whose work was the simple projection of a bonsai tree. Unmanicured, it was projected to the size that the actual tree would have become had it not been confined to its pot. The artist's statement talked of the literality being a conceptual tool to represent hidden or repressed truths, but I also saw it as an optimistic work, that spoke of potential and growth despite handicaps or outside pressure. Perhaps I was thinking of The Teenager.
Now it is back to the brushes, and more importantly, cracking on with my thesis, something I always seem to avoid by finding other things to do (such as this blog!). If only I was as good at writing as I am at procrastinating. The cat is beside himself with joy to have me home again, and all is well. I miss my daughter madly, but know that she is well and having a fantastic experience that will only enrich the wonderful young woman she is becoming. I have been home less than 48 hours, and have hit the ground running, but I will hang on as tightly as I can to the wonderful calm and memories that I have brought home with me. And think about what sort of risotto I will cook for dinner!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Dates, art, and travel
The last three weeks all seem to have run into one long blur. A lot of it through a haze of too many late nights and definitely too much wine. But fun! I am pleased to report that I have had no further bicycle incidents, despite going out for dinner again in high-heels and drinking more than the standard 'recommended' number of drinks before riding home. Oops!
Tomorrow I am off to Italy for three weeks. I will get to see the teenager, the parents and even the cousin (currently in disgrace for eloping and thus avoiding a cast of thousands wedding!). Ostensibly this trip is part of my research project, which involves looking at a lot of art and visiting the Venice Biennale, but which will also include a lot of food and wine 'research'! I can't wait! I have been given a gorgeous journal with lovely paper, so plan to do lots of little ink studies, it's a perfect size to carry around and rest on a cafe table whilst 'soaking up' the atmosphere!
Recently whilst trawling a dating website, and wondering just how many frogs one must kiss in order to secure a prince, I received an email from someone who sounds quite interesting and looks quite OK as well! And it seems that whilst he lives in the same city as me, he will be in the very same Italian town at the same time as me! This he mentioned before knowing that I was even going to Italy. Odd, huh? I may have to 'bump into' him there - it would be great cover from nosey teenagers as to how we met - and much more fun.
Blind Date No.2 sent me a text (two weeks later) saying it was "lovely to meet" me! Yes, that would be a euphemism! I'll forgive him the tardy text as he was actually away helping to save a remote village from immanent disaster. Luckily I don't mind, that inexplicable and often elusive 'chemistry' wasn't there really anyway. Cross fingers that it is for this one!
So back to packing, black, black and more black. I can't wait to see my daughter, and my family (best in small doses!). I will no doubt return fat, brown and hopefully with a lot of research done as well. See you all in three weeks,
Ciao for now,
Sunday x
Tomorrow I am off to Italy for three weeks. I will get to see the teenager, the parents and even the cousin (currently in disgrace for eloping and thus avoiding a cast of thousands wedding!). Ostensibly this trip is part of my research project, which involves looking at a lot of art and visiting the Venice Biennale, but which will also include a lot of food and wine 'research'! I can't wait! I have been given a gorgeous journal with lovely paper, so plan to do lots of little ink studies, it's a perfect size to carry around and rest on a cafe table whilst 'soaking up' the atmosphere!
Recently whilst trawling a dating website, and wondering just how many frogs one must kiss in order to secure a prince, I received an email from someone who sounds quite interesting and looks quite OK as well! And it seems that whilst he lives in the same city as me, he will be in the very same Italian town at the same time as me! This he mentioned before knowing that I was even going to Italy. Odd, huh? I may have to 'bump into' him there - it would be great cover from nosey teenagers as to how we met - and much more fun.
Blind Date No.2 sent me a text (two weeks later) saying it was "lovely to meet" me! Yes, that would be a euphemism! I'll forgive him the tardy text as he was actually away helping to save a remote village from immanent disaster. Luckily I don't mind, that inexplicable and often elusive 'chemistry' wasn't there really anyway. Cross fingers that it is for this one!
So back to packing, black, black and more black. I can't wait to see my daughter, and my family (best in small doses!). I will no doubt return fat, brown and hopefully with a lot of research done as well. See you all in three weeks,
Ciao for now,
Sunday x
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