Sold

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The car is gone …. good or bad?

 

car The car was always slightly different to the other paintings I was working on.  Firstly it was the only one which was actually small enough to be moved by one person alone, secondly, it was experimental with the car coming out of the frame.

 

I am of course glad to have sold a painting, and the money has gone towards a couple of days at the beach for my family, but I also feel a little sad to split the collection.

 

There is a flatness and an un-nerving feeling that I cannot quite understand.  I think that however much I create in the hope of others enjoying I am not actually emotionally ready for them to be in someone elses home, for other people to wake up to them.

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It is a warm day in the South West of France.  In fact, it is verging on being too warm a day.  I have just finished the cutting on the third layer of the Spaghetti, and breeze from the window is blowing the dust around the studio, while barely justifying itself by cooling the room….  I have limited space, but work primarily in the loft.  It is a hot room in summer and a stuffy room in winter, but it is large enough to manage most of the paintings.

The loft (as is much of the house) is a rather Heath Robinson affair.  I have a series of small workmans tables and the wooden table I managed to snaffle of my wife which she had been using for sewing.  I did promise to return it to her, but funds being as they are she is not pushing me as the return of the table is likely to incur another financial investment at the local BricoMarché …

I am writing this while intermittently coughing up my lungs after removing the sawdust from the studio floor – a really horrible task, required to keep my sanity, but at the risk of my lungs …. careless actions – I must remember to wear the mask next time!

The town I am in has just entered their hibernation period, the summer is more slightly active, however, the winter is close to dead.  The advantage to this is that I can concentrate on work without distractions.  The disadvantage is that I start talking to the flying ants who are trying to prolong their life by sucking my blood – a not to normal existence for most people.  I suppose that the lack of two way conversation means that I do not have to worry about the language barrier which exists between myself and most of the residents of this village.

This is my first blog post, and I am not sure if it best to leave this in drafts and potentially never get around to posting it, or to hit the publish button now and come back and do multiple edits?

Since this is one of the few days when my kids do not come home for lunch I think I shall hit the launch button and see if a quiet lunch, when I actually get to think in peace, leaves me regretting the action.

Painting by Numbers

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There was a time when painting by numbers suggested a childs activity book, but now it is more of an accounting thing.  I have to order my paints online, partly because they are cheaper and partly because there is absolutely no where around here which sells anything, let alone at a competitive price.

Painting by numbers to me when the beginning of the month figures are calculated (by the long suffering wife) and I have to choose between buying paint, or wood.

One day I am going to have stacks of wood delivered and stored flat ready for use, and I am going to buy paint by the litre and always have a spare… but for now the work and the numbers are intrinsically linked and I can only do what I can do each month.