He thrusts his fists against the posts but still insists he sees the ghosts

Since I changed my life almost completely around I sort of stopped making art. I threw a few small pieces of work at the da Vinci Arts School's winter craft fair last December, but no-one bit. I didn't really do my part to promote, or even stay there at the show, trying to lure people into my clutches. I suck at self-promotion, and in fact I didn't really care about this fair, since I'd been working through an as-yet-to-be-completed divorce. There are worse things, I guess.

I also discovered the Mandelbulb, which has rocked my creative world and changed how I view art forever.

I'll tell you about that some other time.

So now I'm in a new, downscale pad at the foot of the fabulous Alberta Arts District. Two good places to drink one block from me.

Easy now.

Also, 16 Thai restaurants.

I finally set up my new studio today, and it's not too shabby - with an emphasis on 'too shabby,' but I'll make it work.

Today I threw some mud down on a 36" x 24" panel. It was about 1/8th mud in the bottom of an otherwise empty bucket, smelly and full of puddles of condensation. Mixed into a loose slurry, the stuff went down pretty easy.

I worked the texture more than I have recently, worried that what I did will somehow unduly influence what comes next. Or maybe that's a good thing?

I also built a small panel for a group show submission, and took an old painting down from the wall upstairs, adding a few lines and lots of pink.

What can I say? I like what I like.

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