time to change

Father John Misty Holy Shit

quiet weather, a hint of Autumn in the evening and early morning, pleasant nonetheless; after almost 4 weeks holiday I 'm due back in the office tomorrow; September will be strange, not least because I'll be working different days than I normally do, the weirdest part is it's going to be my last one for the firm; October sees our department moving away to a call-centre a long way away, and I'm not moving with them! Hurray, I say, as I have landed a job much closer to home, reducing my commute to a mere 15 min bicycle ride in part through the woods, cause for much relief on my part. Suddenly it all happened so fast, after months of agony (I exagerate) and not being able to make a decision concerning my future, during the holiday one thing became absolutely clear: no way was I going to travel that far 3 days a week. What then? At a party Sunday a week ago I spoke to a friend of a friend who was looking for someone to share her job with, we both wanted a part time position, she contacted her boss on Monday, he sent me an email, I replied, we set a date for the job interview, spoke with each other on Thursday early afternoon, by 4pm he rang to welcome me on board! Looking forward to a change in my career, the office part of the week that is. As the rest of my life remains much the same: walks with Django, family and studio life will most likely continue as before. A small series of watercolours came to life last night, looking back I see they are all to do with (meditating upon) change......

meditation

dancing figures, groovy moves - or so they imagine - hips thrusting back and forth, into empty space; twirling nimble limbs, whilst hands flap & clap, there's some whooping as they turn away and then towards one another, catching glimpses of each other's eye, the darting glance, are we connected yet? almost but never quite touching, groping gestures disguised as striking poses; a ritual performance lasting into the early hours, hoping encounters will entail, suddenly fearing the longing will be met, dreading the aftermath

transformation, finding one's identity, as if that's something lying about waiting to be found

dead hare

reflection 2, is that really me I see, how do others view me?

metamorphosis * the hare becoming human or was it the other way round, who knows together they could become a new being altogether

reflection 1, then again, perhaps it's a mating ritual

hare dreaming of becoming a ballerina

ran out of paper, continued on cardboard back

almost always several projects on the go, so no matter how small the workable workspace is I manage to squeeze in yet another one, a result of my tendency to have stuff lying on every available surface, so I don't forget about stuff......

namasté