THE SYMPTOMS OF ARTWORK ANTIPATHY

The malady set in badly yesterday afternoon. It's a strange debilitating condition, the main symptom of which is a pressing urge to do anything else rather than sit down at my workstation and paint. For an hour after lunch, all I wanted to do was google filing cabinets on the web (I am in need of such an item, but only in a particular design and finish).

The day had started so well. I had finished my stock painting of Shetland-model boats drawn up near Burravoe pier in Yell (shown above) during the morning. I had paused to make, eat, and wash up after, my lunch, and it was then that the artwork antipathy hit me like a sledgehammer. I just couldn't face doing any more work on my Lerwick South End commission (which is in dire need of some serious attention, as the deadline approaches). Maybe it was the beautiful weather outside, or perhaps it's the fact that I am sick of painting this particular scene - I have portrayed this location, which is one of the most iconic views of the town, so often that I can nearly paint it in the dark.

Eventually, I mustered the will-power to prevail over the ailment, and did some work on the painting, but the results were well below my usual standard, and I'll have to make substantial adjustments during my next session on the picture.

Other items of bad news this week may have contributed to the malaise. The replacement for the large canvas, which was delivered substantially damaged last week, arrived on Thursday, also with a hole in it!` I knew, as soon as I looked at the gash in the single layer of cardboard (which was all the protection afforded by the suppliers) that there was no way in which the contents of the package could have survived intact, and so it proved. I immediately phoned the firm responsible for sending me this inadequately protected item, and they are sending me yet another one. The woman assured me that the next package would be more adequate for the purpose (it will have to be!). I also phoned my client, explaining why the deadline for completion of the artwork might have to be extended. Fortunately, he is an understanding kind of chap, and was sympathetic with my predicament. Other clients may have been less accommodating.

That same day, I heard of the death of my friend Tommy Watt, who had been ill for some time with leukaemia. He was only 50. As curator of Shetland Museum, he had overseen most of my exhibitions at the old building, and I could always rely on him for a fair and frank assessment of what I'd put on display. One of the last occasions I spoke to him was on the day I hung my only (so far) exhibition in the new museum. His words were enthusiastically approving of what was on the walls around us, but I could see then (early last year) that he was not in the best of health. I intend to be at his funeral in the museum on Tuesday, and I shall miss him.

"In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part," wrote Alexander Pope to HIS friend Jonathan Swift. I seem to have lost an awful lot of friends in recent years, and perhaps it's this diminution which I've been suffering from lately.

I promise you a more upbeat post next week. Stay safe!