It's okay...

'It's okay, life doesn't have to be be perfect, it just has to be lived'.

Or so said fictional serial killer, Dexter. Sorry Confucius old boy, but Dexter wins my life quote of the week. It's crazy but that quote has stayed with me for a few years now. In my art, in my life with the kids and in my relationships, it kind of holds true. I used to be a real perfectionist in my art, and would become enraged and destructive when something wasn't fitting the picture I had in my head (sound familiar?) I've wiped or screwed up plenty of paintings and drawings believe me. And here's the thing, I still do get it wrong, I still do fail to reach the level I strive for...everyday. But, I realise that it doesn't have to be perfect, that every painting, every decision, every argument with my ex, every sleepless night worrying about my kids is all part of the ragged imperfection of life. 


A shift

 So, whilst we worry about our small neurosis' and the minutia of daily life, we have the widescreen horror of Syria being played out just a few longitudinal clicks away. Me, I sit and paint bananas and worry about my youngest boys sadness at his first week of new school. Something just doesn't sit quite right and I start to admonish myself. The micro and the macro worlds are jarring and I feel like Stephen Hawking mulling over the unified theory, but with the intellectual disposition of a rubber plant. I remember what my girlfriend said about ripples. No, not the confection, the idea of the effect we can have on people by our actions, and consequently the world. She works in an alcohol and drug agency as a therapist. The Swan project in Bristol. She and her colleagues work with some of the most vulnerable members of society. The effect is simple. They step into people's lives and try and offer hope, both practically and emotionally. Every one of the tormented souls are living their own personal Syria. At 41 I've witnessed plenty of friends and family members fighting some of the same demons. It sucks. But these individuals are living life, very imperfect lives and if we are honest we probably recognise that we all sail pretty close to the storm sometimes, and it would be all to easy to capsize. It humbles me looking at the work they do at Swan, often for very little money...the antithesis of much that we see in the present political climate. There is real humanity and love still in the world it seems. It just happens to be a small light in a vast ocean of dark.

My small effort 

 For my part, and I feel a bit conflicted mentioning this here, I'm donating 20% of what I sell online during September to the project. This isn't a strategy to drive sales ( that 20% is sometimes my only profit) nor is it a completely altruistic gesture. The Swan have been kind enough to display my pics for sale on their premises. It's just what it is. My small drop, in a vast ocean, a tiny ripple that will quickly die away.  Thing is, enough tiny ripples can make mighty waves. 

'The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials'- Confucius

Buy my stuff here-
http://www.dailypaintworks.com/Account/MyAuctions
https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/ArtbyAWM

Last of the Summer Whines

Whoooop!
School's back, the kids are slipping into that funk of despond we all remember after the golden holidays of summer. Come to think of it, so are my many teacher friends (Oli, Dan, Jess etc.) Oh dear. Its been a long six weeks for them, shared between parents, in which I have actually managed to paint one or two pieces, but of course I'm gripped by the pang of anxiety at letting my output slump to virtually nil. Like me, most parents out there will tell you that the summer hols are pretty complicated in terms of caring for young uns, work, vacations etc. On top of this, when you're a separated, lone parent it gets just crazy. Having said this, we've had a great time. I wont bore you with the details, but for my time with the boys it involved mountains, campervans, crabbing, Southampton, Skye, Wiltshire, a gate, a wedding attended and a wedding missed (sorry Marc and Joanne), the M6, waterparks and Oil Paints.

Crabbing excitement (no crustaceans were harmed in the making of this blog)

So....painting. Yay, well, a few brief days snatched with Hannah and the campervan led us to The Isle of Skye. Ahhhhh, even with the midges you cant knock my love for the Isle. The campervan is mega....and borrowed. Make no mistake, I cant afford one of these badboys just yet. Look....

If only you were mine :) (at Elgol)

Painting almost En Plein Air with my pochade box (or, in English, from the back of a van with a cigar box)

Hannah insisted I paint whenever we pulled up for the night somewhere. The fact we had a 5 litre keg of Loweswater Gold bitter and a bottle of Bowmore single malt whisky kind of made this more of a hit and miss rule. I did a few though..

As it happens, I left these in the van, as some-way of a payment for its kind use. The owners like them, phew! 

I'll be ramping up the online stuff as of today, posting the various paintings for sale (few as they are) that I've managed to paint these past six weeks. Also I'm participating in the twitter #paintseptember campaign. It's a painting a day, throughout September. Dear lord, May was tough, September will be tougher I'm sure, but its a great discipline for any artist. Check it out, my twitter name is @lonedadpainting and below are the two initial paintings. I somehow feel the theme of the upland areas of the UK will feature heavily.

Me. Day one.

Not me, day two. (Sutherland...Not Donald)

September brings new schools, new starts and a whole heap of paintings. If you don't hear from me, I'll be hiding under a mountain of paintings, or indeed a painting of mountains.

Casting for a Star

No, this isn't about Britain's Got Talent or even the Edinburgh Fringe (its that time of year). The title refers to the last line of a poem by David Whyte, 'Brendan'. In it, David, unsentimentally, talks about his son, and tries to fathom the depth of love he has for him. Its a pretty cool poem and gives life to those feelings I have for my own kids in a way I couldn't even begin to. I suppose it came from this that I ended up painting tonight and reflecting on how much I miss my boys when they're away with their mum. Yeah, its the second summer as a lone parent, and it poses some unsettling challenges. We had the first week of the holidays together last week and it was in turn: brilliant, tiring, inspiring, frustrating and ultimately full on. It culminated in attending the wedding of my pals Jo and Harvey, which they enjoyed with only the relish that kids can.

(My 5 yo dancing to alt-rock band Voytek The Bear at a wedding do, lol.)

The fact is I love having time alone to paint and do my thing, and not to be the constant showman, peacemaker, meal maker and dad, but as any parent will tell you, there's an anxious gap that will nag without end when your kids aren't around. To this end I started to re-read David Whyte's, 'The House of Belonging', an astonishingly good collection of poems (The TV is only going back on when the final run of Breaking Bad arrives). Reading 'Brendan' amplified the feelings around being a single dad, adrift in 'alone time' and kind of affected the painting I did last night. I started to rework an abandoned painting and there is something about it that reflects the mood I'm in.

(work in progress)

I like where its going. There is something less urgent and more 'found' about it. Theres a little competition on Facebook concerning 'Tips for Painter'. There's lots of talk about customised palletes, duct tape and recycled brushes. My tip would be simple... Read poetry before picking up a brush.

'Jupiter in the western sky

and my

son walking

with the wide arc

of the sea behind him.

(from Brendan, by David Whyte)

(The dudes, last week on Morecambe beach)

My Last Day on Earth ?

There's a great Louis CK scene in his show 'Louie' where he and his playdate mom (both lone parents) joke about shitty things they've thought about doing to their kids, whilst they play next door.  Louie confesses that he plans to kill himself when they're 18, when he stops being 'daddy', and becomes a regular guy. It's actually an insanely funny episode. .. 'So Old/Playdate', check it out.

When I separated from my wife last year, I kinda thought, well, I'll give it til July 2013, when I'm no longer officially a 'stay at home dad' and I'm forced into yet another shitty dead end job or workfare, then I'll just end it. I mean, I've painted hundreds of pictures, recorded dozens of songs and had two pretty cool kids. I've been to Uni, exhibited abroad and played at a music festival a few times. I have pretty much done what I came here to do. I'm 41 years old and am through taking orders from petty DSS staff and dreadful employers. I mean, the decision seemed utterly logical, right ? I don't think we are meant to serve out our time in subservient, abject misery, and as a drain on resources. I must stress this is a logic thing, not a cry for sympathy or guidance. I just like the concept. I've even discussed it with a therapist who was partly convinced.

This macabre thought got me through much of the past 16 months, and today is the supposed to be the last day. Hmmm. It's not really going to plan though. My boys obviously still need me alive, and I quite like my current trajectory as an artist. I have a girlfriend who is amazing and a roof over my head in a largely peaceful and prosperous country.

So yeah, it looks like things are on hold. I do like Louies idea though, maybe my timing is just wrong.

The Accidental Artist

Last week, tumbles and all, only offered up two new paintings. One a homage to a friend of mines granny, Mary Robinson, and the other a trusty English Motorway System painting, number four I believe. It was really a week of new school visits, sports days and my lads bravely embracing new beginnings. But hey, these are the ingredients of life. 

The end of the week brought the West Lancashire Open in which a friend and I have paintings. Old habits die hard and I got a little drunk on the free wine. Hey, I make no apology, its been a long week.

Chapel Gallery...West Lancashire Open

I was dressed in shorts and a cap, nothing like these smartly attired folk above, and offered up one or two vocal opinions towards the end of the night. Eek!

The real art came afterwards, on a diversion to Blackpool, my old home town, with my girlfriend on the way back from the Exhibition. I still love Blackpool and its eccentricities. Its motto 'Progress' seems to have propelled it into the 21st century with a fury.

The moon and the Glitterball

Blackpool Vanishes

The amazing Comedy Carpet, beneath the tower

We wandered around my old haunts, some now sadly closed ( The Stanley Arms!), had a pint in Scrooges Wine Bar for old times sake, and took in the slightly scary Friday night atmosphere.  Blackpool is a crazy, crazy place. I would not like to live there now. It has changed, and rightly so. It has been inherited by a world that I find myself increasingly alienated from. Bless it though, with its charm and utter weirdness.

Sunday morning brought a visit to Sarah Thomas' wayfarer blog and a video interview with the lovely Edward Acland of Sprint Mill up in Cumbria. By sheer coincidence the Mill was open on Sunday as part of the NGS . It seemed too tempting to resist so off we went....WOW....what a place, what a guy, and lovely family to boot. We even met Sarah, post swim, in the river by the Mill.

 Basically, Edward adopted a ruined Mill, on the River Sprint 40 years ago and adapted it to a small holding and a rather eccentric, and beautiful living museum for all manner of resting rural and farm implements, interspersed with personal collections and artefacts. In fact scrub 'museum', this place it very much alive and in vibrant good health. 

The bottom image is a selection of Edwards reclaimed double glazing units, recycled into frames for his collages. They are beautifully arranged and aesthetically pleasing items. Edward is an artist by nature, not design. His work is full of integrity and wonder, from a man who seemed to have fallen into 'art' as a by-product of his lifestyle, an accidental artist. Amazing.

The rest of the small holding is as amazing, and very much a working farm. The families hand crafted furniture is fab.

This chair was surprisingly sturdy and comfortable. Sweet.

So there we have it. My week brought to quite a fine end. I even managed to sneak a pint of Windermere Pale at the Hawkshead Brewery on the way back. Ohhhhh, yes, how I love the hoppy goodness. Farewell for now Cumbria. A place of constant beauty and surprise.

  

I get knocked down

When you get knocked down in life, sometimes it seems like a good idea to stay down for the count. That's how it's felt these past 12 months of separation. There have been days where I just didn't want to to strike back, but, like The Empire its time to. My youngest lad had a fall this week at school too. He's only just turning five and he has a bone condition. The fall caused swelling in his wrist and the need for a brace. He got up before the bigger lad who was piggy backing him and got on with it, he rarely complains. It kinda sums it up really. He's unaware of the certainty of the pains and struggles that he is likely to face in the future. He lives life to the full, in the moment, within his parameters and experience. I guess I need to do the same. 

thankfully, its not his light saber hand

My next blog concerns the days following this. The Art, the people and the lovliness that emerged this weekend. I'll do a separate entry for this as its pretty involved, and deserves a few piccies n tales.

From the beginning

At this stage in my life I define myself by two things, being a dad and being an artist. I've always had some kind of drawing implement in my hand, right from the early days. My boys (5 and 7) seem no different, they love drawing and painting and its beautiful to see. Their mum and I split up last year, but yeah, life goes on. I'm there for my lads every morning, evening, holiday and the rest. I love them to bits, those crazy wee men.

 


 Life hasn't always been like this. I was happily married to my boys mam, for seven years or so. I stayed home and looked after my lads, it was a crazy time, and a time I'll always be thankful for. I've worked MANY jobs and being a full time parent tops them all in terms of how DAMN SCARY, hard and full on it is.

 So yeah, finding myself alone, in a new place, joint access to the boys and a CV about as effective as saying 'Lost at sea', I've found myself returning to my passion of painting. I'd been to art college years back and all that gumpf, and despite this I still love to push pigment around canvas. Haha, yes, Fine Art degrees are great primers for navel gazing in-between shifts at Starbucks. Aye, so bollocks to that. The dreaded axe of JSA loomed and with nowt to lose, it was time to paint my way to freedom, hmmm, or at least to the next top up on my electricity key card.

Ok, I admit, the plan is ongoing, the income is intermittent (but its THERE), I'm precariously skint and in danger of death but fuck it. It became worth it the first time I heard my youngest tell his teacher his dad was an artist. I even managed to buy him a few birthday presents (weep). I was asked to do a talk at school, and I got some studio space, yay. Despite the positives, life remains tricky. Going through a divorce, navigating those emotional waters, is a constant woe. There has been bereavement, and times of real sadness and uncertainty. Things could be so much harder though. People could stop buying. The lights could go out. The drones could strike, my wife's solicitors could call a hit.  Yeah, so really, I'm not complaining. I have a lady friend who despite living 200 miles away, supports and loves the stuff I do. And of course I have the dudes. And they just ROCK.

Find me on twitter too...https://twitter.com/LoneDadPainting
me n dude the younger