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

Shandy

Steve died this morning. Forty years old. Heart attack.

There are so many things I would like to say about Steve, but right now I can't find them. 


Last Sunday we had a beer, talked about living life to the full, doing things that make us happy; like creating. He looked tired in his frayed denim jacket. Chipped teeth I hadn't noticed before. That was Sunday. Today he's gone.

Kate's husband and Ruby's daddy. I'm so very sorry.

Bye Steve.

He bought me a shandy.

"My shout next time"

As I dashed to catch the 5.40 ferry

Leaving the glass half full.

Half empty.