national Geographics "Afghan Girl"

I thought I would have a crack at painting National Geographics "Afghan Girl".

 No copyright infringement intended. All rights go to the photographer and National Geographic Magazine.

Arting around...

Second painting of the day, please comment and feel free to follow me. 

More arty things!!!

I did this one tonight and the rest were over the last two week "ish" period.

Observations in a train station kiosk

Peeking outside of my tiny, tin can
I feel I'm invisible but don't know if I am
Quickly, my eyes dart from face to face
I'm scared of invaders coming into my space

I see all of you but do you see me?
You're running so quickly from point A to B
I wonder if ever you're able to stop,
And look out before as I do out my shop

Your gazes are panicked, frantic, frustrated!
What do you need from your life to be sated?
Are you ever able to slow-down, breath or smile?
A blur, you need only a minute for a mile.

I blink and you're gone, swept away by the crowd.
If I screamed, would you hear me, or is it too loud?
I hope that one day I'll be out of this box and
Away from the ticking of train station clocks.

The latest incomplete...

Another incomplete pencil sketch... I'll try feel inspired enough to add something more to it.. He does look odd without ears.

My first EVER painting!! Oil on canvas. Just a wee thing, not bigger than a postcard.

Windmills in a Poppy Field.

More scribbles for my web weary perusers!

A wee sketch of... You guessed it! Tulip fields and a windmill! I hope to try something similar in oils soon!!

It's a highland coo!! Moo!! Haha.. Roughly sketched over breakfast, was quite pleased with it. Annoyed that the nearest bit of stationary was a blue pen though.

As it draws to a close...

The last few weeks have flown past, the last few days went even faster. Streaking past in blurs, all I seem to be left with are smears of colour and snippets of conversation.
Today was the last Monday I will ever work at my shop. My last day being Wednesday. All i can think about is waking up Tuesday morning and saying "Tomorrow is my last day,"... everything just seems so final now.

Despite desperately wanting to move to Edinburgh I find myself experiencing more trepidation than excitement. More fear than happiness and far more nightmares of failure than optimistic dreams of success. I suppose most people feel this way, though I tend to take it to an extreme.

 It amazes me that anyone is able to achieve their dreams these days. In fact, I'm constantly amazed that people even bother dreaming. Living in the cold and cynical world that we do, surely 99% of the world should know that their dreams will never be anything but? Ah, but there is that 1% isn't there? That tiny fraction that we all desperately hope we will fall into.
I will be part of the exclusive club that gets what they always dreamed of. If I work hard enough. If I show I'm determined. Surely someone will see how much I want this? How much I need this? I can't be part of that majority that slaves away in a job that they hate. Growing more and more bitter with every day that passes. Every work colleague that I have to put up with. Every horrendous customer I have to smile and fawn over. Every shitty boss who's arse I need to kiss to gain that tiny extra step forward towards the life I want. The minuscule foothold up the slick cliff face that I struggle up, determinedly climbing towards my dream. My prize at the top. Until, exhausted and discouraged, your bloody fingers slip and you fall down further into the hell that you so desperately attempted to crawl out of.

Gosh. That was a bit depressing, wasn't it?
Hahahaha!
Sorry about that!

Look... you only get one life. You only get one youth. Just be sure that you are doing what is best for you. Don't wait until you have reached the end of your days to say, "hey, I actually am not very pleased with how things are going, to be perfectly honest,". Rather take the opportunity to think about what would be a bigger regret. Trying and failing? Or not trying and never knowing if you might have succeeded.

AT least if you try and things go pear shaped you can change the plan and see if, perhaps, there wasn't another dream hidden in your heart? One that you might like to have a go at? And so, we try again. Yes, we might fail a second time, but we might also succeed.

Be kind to one another.

Argh! The injustice of it all!!

Jeezo, I suck at packing.

My room has been a mess of half-filled boxes, piles of partially folded clothes, bags of rubbish, labels  of "for charity"; "Edinburgh" and "destined for the skip". At this stage I feel like slapping the "destined for the skip" label on everything and moving with just a suitcase of clothes and a few of my favourite books. Unfortunately, I'm a nester. I nest. The place I live in has to feel like a home. Hence the massive frames, pictures on the walls, the modest but good collection of books on the shelves, the cushions, quilts, linens, candles, mirrors, clocks, etc, etc. Not to mention all the bloody art supplies I'm hauling around wherever I go. The canvases, the frames not yet filled with artwork but that I couldn't possibly  give up because it would feel like a betrayal or submission that I'll never achieve my dream of being an artist.

I cannot comprehend how I managed to amass such a staggering amount of crap. There is definitely some hoarder blood in me. I say that not with pride but with defeat. I earn peanuts!! Where did I find the money to pay for all of this?!

And so, I sit amidst piles, towers and walls of my own possessions. Now they feel like my enemies. An army standing to attention in the form of a maze. Trying to confuse me. What is most important? What do I take with me? What will I need? What can I afford to leave behind? But what if I need that? You never know. Edinburgh is full of possibilities after all. Surely I should be prepared for any eventuality? Especially considering I'm broke and can't possibly buy anything new once I'm there. Which at this stage, I'm sorry to say, includes food.

I can hardly find the will to shift another box, to locate the tape that will seal away my things. My memories (both miserable and happy alike) of my time in Blairgowrie. Will I ever return for these boxes? I can barely afford the moving van the first time around, will I manage to scrape together enough for a second journey at a later stage? Who knows?
All I know is that I'm sleeping on the cold, hard floor in a cold, dingy flat that will never be my home. No matter how many pictures I put on the walls. No matter how many cushions I place strategically to make a hard place soft and a cold place warm.

I had better get back to it. Before despair takes over.

So I will put on happy music, and a pretend smile that no one is around to suspect may be false, and I will carry on. As I have always done and always will do. I will just carry on, because there is nothing else I can do. It's all anyone can ever do.

Holy effing hell...

Right, so my brilliant plan to move to Edinburgh has taken a very dramatic turn of events... not the pleasant kind.

This wonderful plan of mine stemmed from the news that my friend's flatmate had decided that he was moving back home.. or to London or something. I don't know. To be honest, I didn't really give a flying f**ck. That flying f**k has now been given as I have discovered he isn't quite as determined to push off as I was led to believe. Well, that is just bloody wonderful.
I handed in my notice at my flat and my job... all based on the understanding that HE WAS LEAVING!
Now, I've energeticly paddled my little boat all the way up Shit Creek where I proceeded to hurl my paddle,  as far away from myself into the churning river of poo; where it promptly disappeared from view beneath the bubbling surface of fragrant faeces; that I now will need to navigate.

Why did I do it?! I've been asking myself over and over again. Why, why, why? You don't do spontaneity, Deva. You never have. No impulse buys. No exciting menu changes at your regular restaurants and takeaways. The most exciting change you ever extend to is a new brand of shampoo! Which most of the time you don't like and then you'll tell yourself not to do it again and stick with the same old reliable brand.

Now, I'm unemployed and homeless. What the hell was I thinking!?!

God. That is all I can manage right now. I'm going to throw myself into a full scale anxiety attack if I don't stop writing about this now.

Chat later. I sincerely hope I have a better news to tell you later. Mostly for my sake. I think we can agree I'm allowed too be a little self absorbed right now.

Bye.

P.S. I edited out most of the expletives but there were a couple I had to leave behind for effect.

okay.. so I might have procrastinated a little...

Hey there...?

Yes, that was a rather tentative salutation, but you must understand, I'm slightly ashamed at not having written for so long, I feel that I need to peek around the door first before fully entering the room with confidence that my reception will be a good one...

I do apologise. Most profusely, for having abandoned you for so long. I know I promised to write and keep you updated about the various happenings and comings and goings in my life, but there just aren't all that many!

However, I feel that I now have a sufficient collection of drivel to entertain you with - I've been saving it up, you see! Since my last post I have travelled to distant lands, met new and interesting people, reconnected with old and equally interesting people -though a good portion were rather boring and rice cake-ish- and travelled back to my bonnie old Scotland.

Since returning all sorts of other things have been going on. For one, I have decided that I've had it with the silly, little town that I have been suffocating in for the last 18 months and that I'm moving to the new and un-suffocatingly hip and happening Edinburgh! In the words of my "gangsta" self presiding in an alternate universe, "Man, I be straight up trippin', that shiz-niz got me all up with excitin', yo!"
This has proven to be a pretty damn thrilling, frightening, difficult and frustrating decision on my part.

I'm a worrier. One of those bloody annoying people that greets every new decision with a chorus of, "What if's" and, "But I's". I drive my self to distraction with various concerns about moving, how I'm going to afford it, will I find work fast enough when arriving there (pretty much the entire employment world of Edinburgh seems highly suspicious and very reluctant to hire me), what if it proves too expensive, what if the sheepies on the hill opposite were lying bastards and the grass is actually brown, tasteless and a poor excuse for breakfast on the other side????? How will I survive if so many before me have failed miserably? I don't want to be like one of those poor creatures returning home with their tales firmly secured between their legs! Spending my life in abject despair and shame knowing that I failed myself and all those around me who had faith and believed I could do it!?!

Or...... maybe I'm just over thinking things and it will be a breeze?

I don't know. Do you know? have you done this? Are you one of the conquering heroes I have heard about? If so, please feel free to impart your knowledge and wise ways to success. What methods did you use when navigating the tricky waters of unemployment? How did you get to know a brand new and frighteningly big, new city?

Sorry if my desperation is coming across and loudly as it actually is. I did try to stifle it a bit but it has a habit of pouring into my thoughts which in turn pour onto the page... and I can't actually be arse to edit it all out right now.

I bid thee goodnight.
Bye.

A few of those scribbles I promised you!

The peacock design is pen on paper. Not really an intentional drawing. Just what happens when the mind wanders. I flatter myself in saying it has an Art Nouveau- esque feel to it.

This was something I drew for a poster competition Newton Faulkner had going for his latest tour. Unfortunately I neither won nor did I place...but I still think its a cool picture so am uploading it anyway. 

This was another random thing I didn't wasn't expecting. it started out as an orange and spilled onto the paper becoming many different things.

A wee unfinished sketch of a bairn. 

one of my many unfinished little sketches that I stuck in a frame! super cool to see my art hanging on a wall. Somehow makes it feel much more than a wee scribble. I might even be tempted to finish it one day!!

A few of those scribbles I promised you!

This is a little scribble that came pouring out of my pencil late one night, whilst listening to the lovely melodies of Bon Iver. Which explains why I ended up drawing Justin Vernon. Happy days man.

A picture I did to work on anatomy and proportion.

 

Just an unfinished sketch.

An unfinished picture of Marilyn.

The Cage of my Mind

I struggle to pen thoughts to paper.
Not finding sense in the rhymes that I hear.
I battle with words and with speech.
To keep them locked inside, my greatest fear.

Do you understand my confusion?
The jumble of letters and emotion in my head.
A mess of colour, thought and feeling.
To be tamed only when I'm dead.

How do I tell you of the chaos I feel?
How do I show you the storm of words?
They flutter to and fro, here and there.
A rush of wings, like glittering birds.

A maelstrom of screams and cries,
The clash of weapons in battle.
The war is won, my enemy the victor
I am left to my insane prattle.

Left hostage to my own mind.
Unable to sing, speak or cry.
The chains and rope are tied and bind.
And you leave me here to die.

A children's rhyming story I wrote (and planned to illustrate but didn't)

I see the moon and the moon sees me.
She's so big and so round and as pretty as can be,
With her open, lovely face and her light that shines so bright
I know she's always there, though she may be out of sight.

"Oh Moon," I once said,
"You're so pretty and so round,
but how do you stay up there?
So far off from the ground?"

"Little child," She said to me
"You wonder how I fly,
"So high up in the starry night,
"So high up in the sky?"

"I float, my dear," she said
Her voice so strong and proud
"My happiness, it fills me up 'til
I am large and round."
"That's how I stay," she sang to me
"So far off of the ground!"

"Should you wish, my little love,
To shine as bright as I.
Just look on up into my home,
So high up in the sky."

"You're welcome always in my home,
So grand and yet so humble.
Don't worry of the height, my love
I'll catch you if you stumble."

"You are my dearest friend, my sweet
And know I am yours too.
Never hesitate to ask
What I may do for you."

"But now, my dear, just close your eyes
and know that I am near.
My light will shine and keep at bay
Your nightmares and your fear."

"Dream your lovely dreams,
So warm and long and deep
Knowing I am here above
Watching as you sleep."

Sample #1

 A Breath of Autumn

I am not something you can see, touch, taste or smell; but I am also something that you can.
I turn green leaves to golden hues of sleep. I chase away warm winds and breathe the chill into the brisk evening air. I cry rain to wash away the exhausting heat, my tears cooling and soothing the stinging, sunburned skin of the Earth and its children.
I put mighty beasts to sleep that others wouldn't dare approach; it is my lullaby in the ears of a great bear; mine that sings him to sleep, curled up in his quiet cave.
For me trees bare sweet and sour fruit whose ripe flesh wards against the ill of the cold.
I am Autumn.

You probably know my sisters; Summer, Spring and Winter; they are more well-liked than I. Well, except for Winter, she is a solitary season. Spring and Summer have always been popular amongst the living. A time for the hum-drum and whirring of movement. Ah, but I digress.
Now is not a time for stories or sisters but a time for me.
I come after Spring with her budding flowers and thawing of ice and melting of snow. I come after Summer with her scorching heat and buzzing bees, hurriedly bobbing here and there to pass on the promise of blossoming fertility, but I come before my sister, Winter.
I begin what she will end. Do you not love what I bring? My cool and quiet? My respite after Spring's itching pollen and Summer's blistering, shimmering heat? I have been doing this for many years, ever since time first began. Long before you came and long after you leave, I shall still rush forth to bring what this tired land needs. Create a lull in the music of the world.

I had better get to work. There is much to prepare for winter, she is as punctual as she is solitary.

Many tiny hands and little feet rush to bring the still and silent at my instruction.

And so, I still the chirping of birds and the snuffling of creatures with a finger. The thriving insects of the earth and the sky will cease their humming activity and fall, instead, into quiet. "Hush now," I croon to the little scuttling creatures in the undergrowth, to beetles and badgers and foxes alike.

I cool the warm air with a whispered breath from my crisp lungs.
A single tear will bring the drumming rains and another will cool the waters of lakes and rivers and burns. My lilting melody drifting through the air will turn the shades from green to gold, altering it to my will. Oh, rejoice in the colours of my house! My ears wait eagerly for the symphony of browns, oranges and reds and my skin for the warmth of the hearth fires still to be lit. With a word I will command the great trees to set loose their leaves and the flowers to close their petals, like the many mothers drawing curtains and latching closed shutters.

And now, my sweet, it is time for sleep so close thine eyes and drift away until Spring comes to coax you awake. No, no, do not cry! She will come for you, this I will swear. We each wait our turn but a turn we will take. We have done so before and will do so again.
Ah, all is done. I am truly here. I am Autumn.

Little Secrets

I'll take my little secrets
And put them in a box,
Where no one there will find them,
Beneath the many locks.

O, the prospectors may search for them,
The looters, they may seek
But in my little hidden chest,
My secrets safely keep.

When many years have passed
Any my hair begins to grey,
You'll know my secrets at long last,
Before I fade away.

Soon I will be a secret and
You'll put me in a box,
Where no one there will find me,
The earth above my locks.

Lets try this again, shall we?

I have touched fingertip to keyboard so many times and each time have vowed to myself that this time, this time will be different. I have started a new journal every year as part of a New Years resolution to write but as of yet, have not managed to commit, resulting in a box full of old journals with only the first few pages able to boast being touched by my pen and recording my thoughts.

So once again, I am vowing to myself (and to you, potential readers of my blog) that this time, well, this time will be different. I am determined to keep this going, and, in a show of good faith I am going to publish a poem and a very, very short story as well as this post all in one night! How is that for commitment?

So check in again in a wee while and I WILL have posted something else!!

Cheers for now, dear readers!