Bits and bobs. Detritus. Odds and ends. Things you need to move your life from point A to point B. The narrative grows and expands.
Wanting to paint, finding inspiration - gathering brushes, pencils, paints, paper; then walking, strolling, ambling - wondering out and about trying one thing, then another: sketching - re-sketching, photos, doodles - ideas sparking - some fizzling out, and some exploding. Deciding to sell the paintings - taking the plunge, needing to display them - shit! Easels and easels, table-clothes, signs, boxes, prints, mounts, frames, cards, trolleys, bubble warp, scissors, prices - business accounts, plans, ledgers - numbers swimming. Things and more things.
I find myself surrounded by the small things that have come from the bigger thing. Choices made have snowballed and I am learning to ski (or more accurately given my natural balance, slide on my face) quickly! Whether this is a great business decision, or some cul-de-sac on the meander of life, I have taken the decision to put my work in front of other people. And unlike on the Net I can stand and watch the responses - a situation that spasms waves of nausea and excitement across my stomach.
Those moments of some kind of recognition are brilliant. Someone seeing something they respond to - an idea they share, or else see anew. There are comments too, but at the market - with the unspoken tension of the buy and sell, first there are the glances; furtive looks and double takes, then the appraisal - and hopefully the nod or grunt of connection. Of course the opposite passes too - a dismissal, or sneer - but here too there is the pleasure of the challenge - the taunting of expectations: like it or not, you notice it.
And here I am, standing with my painting on show - this is me, this is my brain, my gut, my hopes and fears, right here, and I am alive.