Working in an environment where I'm able to free the work from the plane and format of an 'a' sized piece of paper has helped shift some other givens, around which my work can orbit, if I'm not fully conscious.
I find myself becoming excited about drawing again, about discovery rather than moving toward a picture fixed in my head. One is not better than the other, but fully dismissing one for the other was capping a process.
Currently looking at cave painting and making efforts to understand more modern art movements. There's not alot of time for blogging, most reflection is made in the privacy of a small black notebook but will post more pictures soon.

I have a small catalogue of original seascape and garden paintings available. If anyone would like a copy please email your address to me at sarah.riseborough@btinternet.com.
The process of putting a catalogue together took a while; getting the images together and the information and I am very pleased with the result- thank you Kevin and Denise at Printspot for your patience!
The aim of the catalogue is to have the paintings out there working for me while I am working at university. I don't envisage approaching galleries or creating opportunities for the representational art while I am concentrating on the abstract work.
I intend to update my flickr page with more of an archive of abstract work, beginning with the first pieces and the ensuing developments. This is a bit of personal archaeology for me. I have been looking through notebooks and sketchbooks, sorting out bits of scrapbook material and filtering old, half-realised ideas and half-painted canvases. I have thrown out so much stuff! I must make space!
The new pictures on the blog are a sample of the abstract paintings, the white and gold being a detail from a later development. The image 'Composition: Squares' is being posted for purely economic reasons this week as I have a number of these prints left for sale and hope to finance my academic year with their sale. i will post dimensions and details next time.
For now, i hoe the posts will settle into something a little more coherent and orderly. i have my dance class term to begin planning and a commission to finish so still feel a little pulled in different directions; still, my attention span is not astonishingly long...

Half the year gone; a heap of good intentions with it; still,a brief review of activities and I'm making a new list: Expend less energy on unimportant things; worry less; speak my mind more; ask more questions...
I have prised myself away from a neurotic surge of house-cleaning,begun in anticipation of weekend visitors; their imminent arrival has woken the dozing inner-critic (the one that wears marigolds and knows how to iron). I know if I listened, I would have the luxury of casting a casual hand about me, as I say 'Welcome', graciously; some cushion-placing and gleaming floorboards framing my illusion of domesticity and contentment; I may even have baked a cake- but, darn it, can we not leave the critics chatting in the front room, dismayed at the black marks on the wall behind the coal shovel, and we can frolic on the heath? Go paint-balling? Paint our toenails...?
It's been a grand couple of months; I've assisted in some of the organisation at a festival, organised burlesque workshops and a cabaret, taught classes, painted some, written less, but, after all that, I'm back at the Co-op, chewing my lip over the guilt of the purchase of a bottle of radioactive-green, kill everything, shine everything product, to de-gunk the entire house, and wondering when I'll fit in that essential 'big shop' this week. Sarah doesn't need this head, Sarah needs 'let's build a shrine in the garden' 'let's go out and walk in the hills', 'I know the picture I have to paint...'
Where is this head? Did I leave it in the green room at The Maltings? At St Abb's Head on the longest day? At the illustrator's exhibition at The gymnasium Gallery? If anyone does find it, will they please return it, it has much, much more fun than this one does...

Sometimes I suffer from a kind of 'other-headedness' which can throw my work routine and put pay to creativity quicker than a boot up the self-esteem:
'Other-headedness' to me, is the onset of a cloud of 'should'; a feeling that, whatever task I'm performing that I should be doing something else.
When the kids were younger, it was fairly simple; I was with the kids, so felt the urgency of work pressing me, taking away my concentration and, more importantly, my appreciation. When I was painting I would suffer guilt at leaving my chicks too long, or pay the price for leaning on friends and family.
Now I deal with a three-way split- guess I'm so damn good now, I get a promotion? The writing I do, or don't do, bubbles away till I get ill and have to deal with it. Great dollops of prose then need clarified, made palatable for human consumption. Teaching dance needs a regular feed, and that could be as little as a spin or two round the front room, or a session picking apart a flavour combination to see what its component parts are.
The painting is the biggest deal; I suppose I identify with it most closely. It's something I've done for a long, long time and illustrates most vividly my life experience. I serve this craft most, for, when I'm not up to scratch, it just ain't there. I can put on some music and move my muscles, stretch out and feel a little taller; I can spill a ream of angst in ballpoint pen and empty my plate, but the painting? Still a mistress, for the most part, apart from the odd apology, oil-incident, frivilous sketch. It is the least playful area of my life, even though I have come to realise how important playing is. If I hear a voice dismissing 'play' as a child's indulgence, or someone's 'too busy' I know, for a fact, dagnabbit, they need it more than I do.
Don't get me wrong, I am a fortunate, appreciative person and I really don't have a concept of what I would be doing if I wasn't doing this, right now; I just look for what works better and see that if I have been dealt good cards I want to make the most of them, not throw them away simply because I feel someone else isn't getting as a good a deal, or because I feel unworthy.
I posted this because I know this feeling can strike other folk, too and I wanted to communicate my empathy.

January
'I am going to play, to experiment. I am going to write...'
The thing that emerged from this seeming raft of failed intentions was that the stuff that really needed doing got started,or finished. Instead of getting myself in a pickle about what really needed to be done first, I drifted. This sounds flaky, I know, but I gravitated towards the priorities and managed a pace that was both fruitful and enjoyable. I am busy, but not frantic.
I have managed one day of creative experimentation, only. This appears to be exactly what I needed in order to put some energy back into my work/life; I am happy just getting on with a current commission.
I suppose my conclusion is,the window I imagined I'd made in order to play, simply allowed for space to be in the moment. The usual engines of deadlines and external expectations are only an anaerobic burst to get over the line. My focus is on now, not next month, or next year.
If I have finally put an end to the painful myth of the suffering artist then I have really achieved something great in my own life. I am so lucky; I paint, I dance, I write. I appreciate and enjoy!

I'm about to go back into the studio, to continue with the second of 2 metre square paintings; commissions long overdue.
The sun shines, birds sing.
Keeping it simple, today, folks.
Photos later.
x

It may be cold, grey and miserable outside, but my studio is toastie warm; a bijoux 8ft x 10ft with foil-backed lining and boarded out. A halogen heater glows smugly in the corner.

Cosy, hmm? Yes, and very necessary. I have an oil painting ready for a client which WILL NOT DRY!

It has lived a gentle existence in our airing cupboard for nearly one month, with no apparent effects so it is time for a more direct approach. If I had a sunbed, baby, that little bit of paper would have been soaking up some rays, as we speak.

I'm just hoping the pictures recipient will be understanding.

With an excuse akin to 'the dog ate my homework,' I'm not convinced.

I'm off to finish a triptych so I can clear away my oils and face up to another metre-square canvas.

love to all.

I've made a bit of an error, put 'Mon 24th Nov' on an awful lot of invites, for this show, causing a deal of confusion.
Solution: 2 special openings, Monday & Tuesday!
Linda laughed, when I told her.
'Just as well,' I thought; since we'll be sharing the exhibition space for a whole week...

I've just got work into an exhibition at The Eastgate Theatre, Peebles. It begins on 20th Sept and ends 5th October. I'm submitting 3 abstract works. The Moot Hall exhibtion, in Hexham, begins on the 28th October. (running almost parallel with NewcastleGateshead Art Fair). Life is quite exciting, at the moment!

Oh, and, doing some preliminary sketches for commission work, as well as finishing work on the easel...

...anyone notice the difference?

I'm very happy:

I've been asked to perform (with fellow dancers) at Spittal Gala on both Saturday and Sunday afternoon. We'll be dancing on the prom, prom, prom from 1.15-ish.

I've almost finished decorating my daughter's room. She's away, this week and I'm excited about her returning AND seeing her new room.

I've finished a short story and am really quite happy with it.

The greenhouse tomatoes are nearly ready.

I get to paint (paintings) on Friday (my son will have company so I can go in the studio)

Yoga was just what I needed, tonight.

Just had to tell y'all.

xx

Well, the postcard is complete, the exhibition on the High St over; time to collect the pictures and get back in the studio. The Seahouses Festival seemed well-attended, well-received and the weather was good for us folk unable to bolt for cover, in the event of a downpour.

Thank you to everyone who stopped to have a friendly word, took an interest in the paintnig, shared their stories and kept me fed and watered. My only regret is not keeping a visitors book handy, which would have been a good record for the festival organisers.

So ,off to Thirsk on Saturday to deliver to UKYOUTH exhibition, then keep the momentum to get enough work together for Canterbury in May/June.

Meanwhile, April 10,11 & 12, a small open studio event at 21 West St, NE70 7QB 11-5pm.

Thank you to everyone who attended the dance workshops on Saturday, and the hafla in the evening; especially thanks to Ali, a fabulous teacher who we hope to see more of. Thanks, too to Mags for leading our erratic drumming. Our post-workshop food was fab, too, so thanks to Paula, too!

Altogether a successful event, here's too the next!

Meanwhile, a few paintings from the last few weeks, mostly on quite a small scale, which is very satisfying to work with and gets me away from worrying too much about details that, in hindsight, mean little to the finished painting.

I enjoyed, very much, the palette of an early morning walk in the snow; the golden sunshine picking out the dried grass, the blue shadows cast on the white. So glad the spring is coming, though. I'm ready for the sun to warm my bones.

On 21st Feb I've organised a dance party, a hafla, which is an opportunity for local Arabic and Tribal-Style dancers to perform (that is, both teachers and students) and for folk to come and watch, see what the whole thing is about. So what I'm saying is, 7 for 7.30 at The Ferguson Hall, Nursery Lane, Belford and £5 per ticket; feel free to bring your own refreshments.
I teach 5 hours a week, at the moment and getting into the swing of it is challenging; a few more early nights are necessary to prevent burn-out! (A collegue of mine teaches 10; I need to take some notes.)
It may seem a little confused, a little unfocused to split my career up into three (counting writing, too) but I find, if I'm organised with my time, painting, dancing and writing compliment each other perfectly; (I'm a lucky old blighter, aren't I?) It probably means I'll never be exemplary in any of my chosen disciplines but I'd have a difficult job choosing one over the others.
Point is, I've not begun painting, yet, this year (too dark, cold, wuss!) but I have sorted out choregraphy, reviewed some of my stories, so I'm not really juggling, just doing the things that are most appropriate for the time- sap is rising now, though, and the studio mucked out. I'll post any new work, meanwhile, enjoy a few class photos...

Happy new year.

Let's all agree now to have a good 2009, shall we? I'm feeling moronically optimistic and don't want to be in a club of 1.

I've not got back in the old shed, yet, in fact I'm looking for bigger premises as 8x10ft has limitations for my messy creativity.

Warm, light, spacious, cheap, if you are asking and within walking or cycling distance, running water and mains electricity. Don't want much, do I? But there's no harm in asking, I reckon.

Ideally I'd have a place where I can leave more than one project out, have plenty of wall space to pin up sketches and photos and storage for an embarrassing collection of art materials, which probably will get used, ahem.

Oh, and I wouldn't mind getting my writing published, this year, please, Universe, since I'm making a list.

And yourselves, what's on your wish list? Go on, tell me...

I feel I'm finding a style that is particular to the garden paintings and drawings; I like the kitchy-50's edge that keeps appearing in some of my larger paintings (will post soon). I feel it deals with the overwhelming amount of information there is, amongst the flowers and shrubbery.

Areas I have agonised over; 'Shall I include that? Must I be slavishly realistic?

Natasha has erected a Cath Kidson -ooh, I was going to call it a tent, there- tent, it is not- anyway, such a magnificent display of roses, red and pink, on a blue background have settled my questions for me!

I remember, as a child, I stayed at my maternal grandmothers house during the (then, achingly long) summer break. I'd be indulged outrageously for three or four days and have the run of a lovely house in a local market town; each room decorated tastefully, if of a time.

Downstairs, the front room was most certainly Victorian; Gran had an eye for furniture- dark furniture, and rich fabrics; (one steered one's attention from the plastic sewn on the edges of rugs, and the covers to hide the wear-and-tear), upstairs, though , some of the bedrooms had been furnished with sinks, to accommodate fee-paying guests, on a bed and breakfast basis ( young doctors, mostly- my gran kept up with families for years afterwards) ANYWAY the pictures in these rooms were fascinating- awful, I remember no one wanted them, when it came to finally clearing out her home. The whole picture, frame, backing, was one piece of cardboard, folded and cut and depicted scenes of open squares thronging with people, houses with red geraniumes, or cosmos-like flowers dashed over painterly backgrounds. I visited each of these pictures in turn again and again, on rainy afternoons, or pausing on an errand ('Your legs are younger than mine').

Such little, incidental pictures are coming back to me- not the whole image, you understand, but the brushstrokes, the colours, the way some forms are picked out, some discarded and dealt with using whimsical colours and brushstrokes...so I shall indulge my urge for whimsy, for fun, and a trowel-load of sentimentality and leave the botanical drawings to the botanists!

That's the art tour over with- no 'phew' moment this year, strangely enough; I'm usually lying in a darkened room with a towel over my head, but so much to do, I'm straight back up to Natasha's to sketch and finishing other projects.
The little drama company I'm involved with is performing in Bamburgh Castle on Saturday morning at 11.30. come along if you don't mind paying the entrance fee to come in!
A little incident I wanted to share- at Natasha's- lovely day, had this enormous canvas propped up to paint a particularly beautiful bed of roses (Geoff Hamilton, apparently), foxgloves and huge aliums. I stopped, hearing a scuffing noise accompanied by a high-pitched chatter.
Looking up ,I spied a hacked-off looking squirrel in the lower branches of the box tree that towers over the garden. I tried to get on with my work after (I thought) exchanging pleasantries with the squirrel but it really wouldn't let it lie. It continued stamping its little feet and chattering at me; 'ah, I thought, it objects to my presence.' I moved under the tree. I peeped around the enormous trunk to see a squirrel-shaped silhouette, peering the other way around the trunk.
The chattering began again.
'Alright, alright.' I thought and abandoned my canvas, feeling the creature was cross enough to launch an assault (don't laugh, I could picture me at the vet's having the squirrel removed from my hair!). i went indoors, feeling eyes follow me across the gravel.
I took the opportunity to have a drink of water, waited a moment and returned to the door. Who do I see, glaring furiously (I swear it was!)? It was bent, peering right into the hall to where I was standing! I retreated and watched the squirrels progress from a tiny window.
It made its way to an apple tree and skirted the garden, SAS-style and disappeared from sight.
I returned to the canvas, safe in the knowledge I wasn't disturbing the locals anymore.