Finding The Joy

Who would have believed I needed permission to go look for it? To just throw paint around and see what happens? That it’s all about finding what you like and don’t like and keeping on exploring the things you do like. That you don’t need to hold onto every single little thing in case you can’t manage to create it again. It’s about being brave, letting go, not needing the approval of others. Lesson’s in life through painting.

Itsmosblog has stagnated because I didn’t know what to do with it but wanted to keep it, so that’s the first thing I’m not letting go. Now it’s my new weekly assignment guide. I’ve just finished a course called Find Your Joy by Louise Fletcher who is an abstract painter. 12 weeks long, it kept me painting and smiling for the duration. I have reached no elevated creative hieghts - just the revelation that I love putting paint on paper or canvas or board, when it doesn’t have to be something at the end of it. Feeling I have to make a painting work, usually kills it. But now that Louise is not handing out assignments every week, I want a place to keep a record and to have to keep ‘turning up’. I wouldn’t have a blog if I didn’t want to tell people about ‘stuff’.

I’m going to start looking for my joy in graveyards for the moment. Places full of stories, memories, love, loss. I wonder if losing my own father before I was 5 years old, his remains scattered in the Rememberence Garden at the Crematorium in Ayr - a place that holds no meaning to me - has led me to have a special interest in places where people can go to remember and reflect. This is in no way a morbid interest. I’ve sat in many graveyards, wondering who lie’s there, what was their story. And I’ve sat in ones where there are people I loved and cared about. And I find them peaceful and restorative.

I haven’t a clue what the paintings will look like, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m going to enjoy the exploration and see what happens. If I don’t have time to get out sketching, then I’ll sketch anything that comes to hand or get some paint or pencils onto a substrate, regardless. Like the other week when there was no time to paint so I looked in a mirror, didn’t look at my paper, and drew my face. That was fun. I added the cold sore but ignored the wrinkles. Maybe the next time I’ll add them and it might look more like me. It doesn’t matter - it was fun.

Moy Bridge Graveyard is just along the road, so I checked with Roddy Moy (so named as he farms at Moy) if it was ok to drive through his yard, down to the graveyard. He’s fine with that which is good as I hate a row. No doubt a hang up from childhood.

I piled the dog and some cheap, thin paper and a few supplies in the car and headed off with a grin of anticipation.

The dog is going to get very bored

I did 2 sketches. I hadn’t meant to try and represent exactly what’s there and fell into old habits of trying to do that. I’m not great with perspective and proportion and so I was planning to try and get a feel for the place. Lewis Noble is an artist who goes out sketching shapes and colours in the landscape and then comes home and tears them up into a completely different arrangement. This was my plan. I thought it would be fun and easy. It was fun, not easy and not very successful. Thankfully the happiness of my day was not hinged upon a resolved and lovely painting. Phew.

I tore, and rearranged, and in fact rebuilt the whole graveyard until it was a dark and creepy place which is not remotely the feel I was going for.

No question about it. I checked in with myself and it was fun. Clearly I have still not learnt about proportion and composition. I have discovered that being a hoarder in life, is also reflected in my paintings. I hoard all the bits I like and I’m niether good at throwing things away nor editing.

Maybe I’ll stick this last bit down and paint over other bits. It doesn’t matter. I sketched and I blogged. Mission accomplished for this week.

As part of my inspiration, I’m including a painting my brother-in-law made for me from old photographs of my dad - Jim Pollock.