Retirement

My retirement is tiring. Is that why it's called re-tire-ment? Ark Ark.

I was never this busy when I turned up at the office everyday.

I have to say though, it's the best decision I've made in a long time, maybe ever. OK, maybe it won't seem so wonderful when the pay cheque stops. But then again I've already got my first paid gig; my pocket money.

I'm coaching.

Yes, me. Coaching.

And I'm making films about the planet and other small things like that. That's not paid. Not yet.

I'm not painting and not photographing because I'm too busy. But I will. Oh yes I will.

After twenty years of spreadsheet incarceration I'm just exploding with inspiration.

Chasing Waves

I spend much of my free time chasing waves in the South China Sea.

I try to catch the runners.

Some people wait patiently for them to come from behind, but I chase the waves in front, hoping to be swept up and carried away.

Runners
Oil on Canvas
April 2010

Bullshit Artist

When people ask me what I do, I now reply "I'm an artist". The first few times I felt like a fraud, but I soon got over that. Besides, now it's the truth. Well it will be from next week, because Friday is my last day in the office.

I can't say Friday is my last day of work, because I stopped working about six weeks ago. No, make that six months ago. Still it's the turning up and sitting around that's a drag.

So now I'm an artist, an unemployed hippy bum.

I couldn't be happier.

Duped by dopamine

Depression, melancholy without the creative output. Yes, that's it.

Some people like to be miserable. Maybe I'm one of them. So much easier to create when there's a storm cloud to break through.

I like to be happy too. I like it all.

A chemical imbalance that needs to be corrected, what a load of rot.

Blocked Up

I haven't cried for a few weeks now, not even at Steve's memorial. I'm all blocked up, and so is my painting.

I'm working on a giraffe but it's not working back.

Out of town

I went to Steve's memorial
He's left town.
Whenever I pass the Jockey
I know he's gone.

Sinister

That's more like it. Sinister little bastards.

Oil on sketch paper April 2010.

Chirpy

Convincing but not compelling.

Would it be better without the sea and a simpler sky? Perhaps a bit of green in the foreground? I'll leave it awhile.

Oil on Paper

April 2010

My Place

There's nothing like a sudden death to rattle and shake and put things into perspective. I woke up this morning wondering where I was and which day it was and then I remembered with a thump. It's real. It happened. He's gone.


We talked about emus.



 





"My Place"
Oil on Canvas
50.8cm X 60.9cm
April 2010