It's all about the painting

I have decided to put my eggs in one basket as it were, and limit my blogospheric musings to matters more directly related to my practice as a painter.

I know many of my women readers (there must be at least six) will be aghast at this turn of events, because they have been counting on me to provide charm and beauty tips as I conduct research for my new book, Dangerous Curves. But I promise to do everything in my power to get this book published as soon as possible or during my lifetime (which ever comes first) and will keep you posted when any large developments take place. In the meantime, do the best you can with what you have at hand.

So above then, is a brand new painting called "love struck", part of a body of work I am creating for my annual Heartspeak studio show. I was having a chat with one of my dealers the other day, and she posited that my work had perhaps become a tad too cerebral for the average art buyer. She was referring in particular, to my troubled attachment to Sigmund Freud and offered in as sensitive a manner as she could muster, that not everyone gets it. So I have decided to rest my psychoanalytical case for a while at least, and just throw some paint around.

It's a serious lot of fun.

sigmund, we have lift-off

Today a very old friend (she's not old, but our connection is) emailed me a photo of us from 1955 when we were classmates in kindergarten. I guess it got into me somehow. I know this because the painting I worked on shortly after getting the email shows Sigmund Freud as a bird, lifting off. I was originally thinking of having him in a housedress and turning him into a wife from the 1950s; something I am sure he would not have approved of. But instead he ended up flying. If I were on the couch today, he would no doubt have something to say about all of this.