Tag: art journal

I haven’t been feeling good about my work for a while now, I’ve found it really hard to stay focused. So this is a post gathering together some of the things I’ve been working on, to remind myself that I am in fact occasionally productive.

  1. drew a red squirrel
  2. designed & printed some cards that are now for sale in a pottery shop and a café/wine bar
  3. chaffinch
  4. jays
  5. dug up and scanned some old monoprints
  6. did a clay workshop, made whatever this thing is
  7. sketched some animals from the Book of Kells
  8. painted a window
  9. made some sloppy monoprints
  10. started a large oil painting (51 inches wide) partly about Irish mythology and partly about the climate crisis.

Stardate

This feels like one of those in-between times, when the days all bleed together. A time before or after something that will turn out to be momentous. I feel like I should be trying to keep a record, or I’ll forget this period of my life completely. 

So what to say? It’s summer, but it feels different to other summers. I’ve become used to summers in the city, marking the changing of the seasons by human tides: people walking the waterfront, filling the streets, contaminating my favourite deserted bars, even in the afternoons, and occasionally inviting me to barbeques.

Not this year. Down in this leafy river valley, summer feels like a secret between me and the animals. Did you know rabbits are kinda sleazy when they sunbathe? Hi gals.

I’ve travelled a little this spring but I still seem to see more animals than people.

Other things, for the record:

I’m planting things and getting too invested in their growth. 

I’ve got assignments and other responsibilities, but I wear them lightly. I am diligent, but not sincere. 

I am not needed these days (except by my little seedlings) and it feels okay. 

I’ve just about finished the comic/book I’ve been working on. I don’t know what to call it, exactly; I suppose it’s an art journal of sorts. I recycled an old notebook to make it. The pages are stained where I tried to soak out old ink. Some are frayed and thin where I pulled the fibres ragged with an eraser.

Here’s a sketch. 

I suppose I’ll begin uploading that when I have it scanned. It’s a good 40+ pages, so it might take a while..

I decided that reusing an old journal made sense for a project that was essentially about death and renewal. On a similar note, a toenail that I badly bruised about 8 months ago finally fell off and left the nail-bed exposed, pink and tender as a newborn. That seemed like a less poetic metaphor for resurrection, though, so I didn’t incorporate it. 

What else has happened?  

I crashed my bike this week. A dark lagoon-like bruise flowered on the back of my hand and my kneecap looks like a supernova. 

I saw a cat that looked like my one-year-missing cat but it wasn’t, it was some other jerk.

I played violin on the roof and a finch became violently enraged and flew at my face. His wingtips brushed my cheek. This is the second time that birds have been moved to violence by my playing; either I am not very good or I am on the brink of learning how to control them. If this happens my life will have taken an unexpected turn.

I will keep you posted.