Diolch yn fawr iawn

I am on my own in the capital, sitting at the round red table, while the artist remains with our children and her parents in the foothills, drinking a glass of red wine. (I have just spoken to her.) There have been times before when I have been in the capital and the artist has been in the foothills. There have been occasions when I have been working crazily in order to complete a project. There have been periods when I have simply been body-surfing across the up-raised hands of the capital. Or there are times such as now - like this - when I choose to communicate clearly and directly from the red table. (Howdy.) At the end of the day, it remains this blog’s ambition to reach that moment - that premeditated instant - when the artist has her exhibition. In the meantime, it's all about reporting the ride. In this light, let me say the artist has been charging up her batteries well, though there were in the foothills the usual little people to tend with, plus an energetic and effervescent little niece. It makes this blogger happy to think of the artist charging her batteries, as the artist needs to feel fit in order to perform. She is like an athlete, after all, and needs to be, so physical is much of her particular work. Her frame of mind is important too. The brain, as we know, is like a muscle, just as the creative juices are like blood to the body of work. At the risk of over-simplification, though, what I think the artist wants more than anything right now is one more major piece behind her before getting any more people to see the work in the flesh. This is not procrastination. This is artistic choice. That said, a more direct approach by the artist may begin shortly, conceptualising further the actual show. Another idea being discussed by the artist is a public space: she has a place in mind. I must say, it remains one of the frustrating ironies of this blog that the very thing it wishes to publicise must remain anonymous, but that is how it is. That - if you like - is the deal. Besides, art is magical enough to deserve a good-luck parallel, isn't it? Art is not just about the banging of a drum. It is also about leaning your ear to the rich green earth and listening to the plates below. And that - thanks to others - is exactly what we were allowed to do in the foothills.