The Mysterious Traveller

I get overwhelmed very easily with the amount of projects I give myself. Some are commissioned pieces and some are actual jobs, but most are personal projects that blossom magnificently for their moment in the spotlight before getting shelved in place of another idea. I don't always believe this a bad thing because it's so clearly a healthy trait to indulge every creative idea that pops into your mind. They all deserve a sketch or treatment.      Right now I am faced with a plethora of thoughts and ideas,  amalgamating into a very interesting looking soup (let's say). I am a big fan of soup, so if it can become a culinary metaphor (as well as a delicious lunch option) then everyone is a winner. So this pot of soup is simmering away and I am getting very excited about it (we are still in the metaphor, by the way). The problem is that I need to distinguish each ingredient (idea/project) before it all blends together to become an overwhelming (but tasty) bowl of food. I want t

Well, I finally did it. Whether it was due to the overwhelming anxiety-driven previous 12 months or simply pure instinct telling me to take the plunge into the unknown, I left the studio. It was something I had wanted to do for most of 2023, but the need for routine and stability amongst colleagues and friends overcame my adventurous ambitions. I think it helped me, the structure of daily familiarities; not quite a regular yoga practice but it was something.  But as I continued to work on these small projects, my motivation really waned. I must point out that this was, by no means, the fault of the studio. Whatever is happening with me, it's a personal matter (internally, I would say) and nothing to do with the work of others.   And for me to fully reflect on the mental, spiritual and physical factors of Tommy Grainger's life, I packed up the van and went on a six week road trip around Portugal and Spain.  I originally had the idea of keeping a travel blog filled with updates a

As I gorge through a packet of Maria biscuits alongside an ill-timed mug of coffee (it's after 18:00) I consider my options. Having a mental list of things is no good, due to the inevitable subconscious winds of change that blow priorities right out of the other side of your head. I need a physical list. Something that I can pin to my laptop or wardrobe door to remind me of the outrageous number of tasks, jobs, projects, ideas and adventures I try to juggle all at the same time. I say outrageous; perhaps others deem it healthy? Healthy to keep busy and follow such keen interests and hobbies?     I cannot deny this, of course. Those who choose a career in the arts are blessed with a creativity that can touch many hearts whilst subsequently earning a (relatively modest) living. But I digress; back to this list of mine! Although my love of list-making is surpassed only by that of tea-making, I can honestly say that my current (yet to be physical) list has overwhelmed me beyond repair.

 ' Alas!' cried the old man, shaking his wretched fist belligerently at 2023. 'That you have bested me leaves a bad taste in my mouth! You thwarted me with broken promises and less hope than I can shake a stick at!' Fate had gifted the old man with a gnarled old stick, lain upon the damp verge beside him. But the very idea of picking it up for emphasis and farce was quenched as the darkening clouds kept their word and rained an almighty downpour onto the world below. The winds howled and isolated any chance of a peaceful stroll home.  'Bother and befuddle!' the old man persisted. 'This weather doth trouble my mind, and yet, compliments in such a way that leaves nought but admiration. Such timing!' Distracted by the poetic irony, he continued to shuffle against the breeze and into the future.  Days turned into weeks and then? Perhaps in to months; the old man knew not. His mind was burdened with unexplained circumstances and missed opportunities. The life