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

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)

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