This past week I've given myself the freedom to play in my studio, destroy very expensive paper (and clothes) venturing down roads I haven't been before. And MAN did I have fun, switching haphazardly between OMG I'M A GENIUS! and OMG I JUST RUINED ANOTHER $40 SHEET OF PAPER! All in all feeling like the artist I wish I could be a bit more often.

And then that creeping thought of Did I just waste a full week in my calendar and all I'm left with is a floor full of pigments..? shows its ugly head. I know this needs to be part of an artist's job description, if we don't give creativity room to grow we'll never evolve as artists BUT - there's also that nagging feeling of indulgence - how much of it can I really afford?

A gallery I've sold my work through just sent an email saying they're bankrupt. The news are saying even the BANKS (?!) are going bankrupt now and oh dear - is this something I should worry about too? Between pandemics, looming world wars and god know what else the universe is throwing at us lately it's a miracle I've managed to stay so careless around the health about my little art business thus far. I didn't start it because I had a dream of becoming a full time artist, it just sort of happened as I started showing my work and amazingly - people wanted to hang it on their walls.

I should mention I'm not seeing any signs of impending doom at all, but the outside world can be very loud and hard to ignore sometimes. And I'm terrified that it will affect the way I make art. 

As promised, I will start adding new work to my website weekly and this beauty will be the first piece up. Daybreak, 54x74 cm / 21x29" painted in watercolor on paper.

About two years ago I spent a long weekend in a coastal area called Bohuslän a few hours north of where I live. I go there to paint sometimes and every time my brain just about collapses from all the glorious inspiration. Needless to say, sleeping is impossible and as I was done trying one very early morning I got up to take a walk instead. I was met by the landscape below, completely wrapped in fog, as if it was orchestrated just for me. I keep returning to the pictures I took that morning, desperately trying to recreate the quietude and the majestic stillness of it all.