It's been another while......

It drives me mad when people are fickle. Turns out I'm probably just as bad. I throw all my energy into something, (practically speaking) then suddenly there arrives a more intriguing or challenging distraction and all of a sudden ......I have a new pastime. It commands time and nurturing, things get sidelined. Still you love what you love and if you love it enough you'll always return to it.

So yes, I became inconsistent with this blog.....again. Too many distractions, lots to peruse, peruse and to do. 

So after a period of nothingness, here are two I little pieces I did today. The first I lost my creative courage with. The second is a rough idea for a piece, it didn't quite transfer from head to page as well as I'd hoped.

Pastel

Mixed media

Mr Briggs

I've had a long term affection for the work of  British illustrator Raymond Briggs. His work to me is magical, pure, emotive, ethereal and probably synonymous with Christmas to most; but that to me I know he's done so much more, (though I do admit to humming along to associated Christmas tunes). I still remember at the age of about 8, being so enamored by a cake so carefully and skillfully crafted to look like like a scene from the snowman, that I went over board buying raffle tickets in an attempt to win it. So hooked on his beautiful illustrations am I, that yes I still own DVDs and books of his work. 

Having visited the Bronx zoo in NY during September and capturing some images of various species there, I knew there was one in particular that had caught my heart. The most forlorn and sad looking polar bear. I'm not surprised, given their natural habitat and tendancy to travel for miles across the wilderness. A concrete showroom is incomparable. 

What can I say, not an ideal situation for the life of the poor guy, but hopefully he will serve as an ambassador for his species like many others in captivity. We can only hope that their position will not be abused in such circumstances. Hopefully people will learn about him and his natural life. Why his preservation and his habitat is so important to the world and how he and others like him maintain an equilibrium on this earth. 

 So here is my kind of humble tribute to my love of Mr Briggs. Named 'Polar love'. I guess it could take on a multitude of connotations. Yet another case of the polar opposite views of many people and a specie needing to be safe in the knowledge that we think enough of them and understand enough to do something about the decline of this earth.


 A4 Pastel on pastel paper. 

Quiet

If you knew the things I knew,
You wouldn't say the things you say.
You'd process life more gently,
Or quietly be on your way.
Stuck inside a personal war zone,
A mind wound up too tight.
Flammable and intolerable,
Ever ready to ignite.
A victim of one's own theory,
An overactive head.
Dictating your own fatality,
A lonely life ahead.

The work of an insomniac....

It's amazing how stress can affect a person's ability to cope with emotions, pain levels, resilience to illness, skin condition, thought processes, muscle tension, fatigue and sleep patterns.....knew I'd get there in the end.

These are of course things I deal with at work on a day to day basis. Trying to find coping strategies for people, providing a more holistic approach to management than just reaching for the most conveniently placed bottle of red....aherm...

After visiting Edinburgh's Fruit Market gallery back in December, I discovered an artist by the name of Louise Bourgeois. During a period of her persistent  insomnia, (November. 2004-June 2005...how on earth did she cope??), she took to drawing and writing nightly. Whatever was going on in her head on whatever scrap of paper she could find.

I thank my lucky stars for insomnia not being such a persistent problem for myself, but during the times I haven't been able to switch off properly lately, it has proved to be a bit of an inspiration. I'd say a good deal less frustrating than chewing the pillow or staring at a dark ceiling.

As for the content, yes it all appears to be winged. I entitled the first (unofficially)'Angry Bird', not a more vulgar reference to myself, though as it happens I was very angry at the time. It is now simply 'Insomnia'.
The other two have no titles. All created between the hours of 1-3.30am. I've yet to have a full blown session in oils at such unearthly hours.

It's all relative.

I'm a keen follower of the life and work of Albert Einstein. Not to say that I'd be fit to appear on Mastermind answering questions on the topic, but lets just say I appreciate his mindset or at least that which I am able to comprehend.

 An exquisite scientist and theorist, a pacifist, a humanist, with a compelling compassionate and empathetic nature. Einstein is synonymous with the term genius, yet I fail to find a note of pretension or arrogance suggesting he took anything for granted. 

Depending upon readings there are contradictory stories of the young Einstein's beginnings. One being that he struggled with speech difficulties, the other claiming he excelled from his first year in school. Either way, he went on to establish some of our greatest scientific principles, furthermore laying bridges between that which could be proven in front of man's own eyes and that which could be an actuality, but which could not. Why should anything be impossible?

I've had Einstein as a subject in mind for a while now. It's usually just a case of being brave in getting on with these things and seeing how it goes. It's maybe not the most creative of pieces, but the temptation of the subject was how utterly endearing and characterful Einstein's face is. Full of crinkles and creases, experience and wisdom and a touch of eccentricity. It all holds the interest.

Graphite on paper. A5

Peregrine Falcon

This piece is several months old now, as seemingly is my last post! It started life as a graphite work, but I became dissatisfied with the effect and worked over the top in pastel. The work was created with some urgency, but much love.


Pastel and charcoal on paper. A3

Once

Save the last laugh, Cry the last tear, For fear of appearing a manic scene . Static as a corpse in snow, Memories dried up, momentum lost its flow. High and dry you seek what's new, Ebbing tides and gravities new. Fresh rain on virgin skin, Sun stained retina of promises dim.