Stormy Weather

Blurry head in the morning, a big coffee to wake up with, the furious storms play havoc with sleep and the shack. Off to Makers Workshop, writing, before Joanna arrives, she takes a few photos of the studio before we wander downstairs into the public area for a few more photos, a coffee and a chat about art, drawing, touring Scotland, rugby and wedding anniversaries.

Back on the road to home-base through hard rain, intercutting, flicking, stabbing and jabbing. It pelts down during the 45-minute drive. I am reminded of being in a helicopter, of white noise, and static sound. It’s so loud; it bounces around every inch of the car and deep inside my head, inescapable, intense. The sky is grey; colour has evaporated, what’s that over there, a stack of bright red and orange burning flames piercing out through the greyness. A solitary stack of old timber pallets burning fiercely out the back of a factory, next to black and grey concrete tubing a la recently deceased artist Jeffery Smart.

The rain and sound gets heavier and louder, the helicopter gets louder, all consuming white noise. Back at home-base, warmth, quiet, rain is subdued, black and white drawing for the next 4 hours, space, depth, tone, mark. The mark has hardened up since yesterday, stiffened, tight wrist – ‘hard rain, intercutting, flicking, stabbing and jabbing’ is needed perhaps.

Dinner then a restless night as the rain and wind continues throughout. The small room is very cosy and quiet though. I try to read but my eyes immediately sink into my head.