Wester Ross Lochan, Watercolour Landscape Painting

Wester Ross Lochan, watercolour and felt pen on watercolour paper

This is one of my favourite watercolours. I love the way the browns (my least favourite colour) worked and the way the felt pen spread when I wet it.

Oh, and if you're wondering how to pronounce lochan, it's that Scottish ch sound from the back of the throat, like loch - a lochan is a tiny wee loch, by the way.

Smokey Jura, Landscape Oil Painting

Smokey Jura, oil on canvas

This was a tiny wee painting. I started out painting murals, so working on something so small was a real challenge for me. It went well, I think, and the painting has sold.

Greetings cards of it are available through my website.

Goodbye Comfort Zone, Suilven Landscape Painting

Walk into Suilven, oil on canvas

I don't like brown. I really hate it. I never wear it. It's an old school uniform thing.

But while painting, I decided to push myself out of my comfort zone. So I got the brown paint out.

• Burnt Umber
• Raw Umber
• Raw Sienna
• Burnt Sienna (I quite like that one, actually)
• Yellow Ochre (it was in my school tie, so it's still hard to stomache)

I mixed in blues and pinks while I was working, just to alleviate things and even scraped away paint with the hard end of my brush. This is what I came up with.

I'm not finding brown quite as offensive as I once did.

Loch Assynt Winter

Loch Assynt Winter, watercolour and felt pen on watercolour paper

I decided to do a bit of experimenting with this wintery painting, and used a water based felt pen to draw out my image first. As it wasn't permanent, as soon as my watercolours hit the pen, it spread in all sorts of directions and in different shades of blue and purple. I loved working this way - it was so unpredictable.

I took this painting into my framer to frame, and he promptly bought it. I still have cards available on Etsy and Folksy.

Christmas Activities

Loch Dochart Winter, mixed media on canvas

This is the time of year when the artist has to sit back and my inner retailer/sales person has to come to the fore. If you want to make a living as an artist, you can't always be precious about your work, and Christmas is just round the corner.

I have to concentrate on all forms of my work, paintings, prints, greetings cards, fridge magnets, key rings and my new notelets. Today, friends and family went into their places of work, very kindly carting some of these items with them, selling to their colleagues on my behalf.

Meanwhile, I spent the morning on the phone speaking to the outlets which already stock my greetings cards and prints to find out if they need more (happily yes). I also contacted one of my local leading high street retailers to see when I would be able to come in in person to sell to their staff (over 100 of them), work that could act as small gifts or stocking fillers - I had already discussed this with the manager a couple of weeks ago.

My website and online shop are up to date and running smoothly, I can accept credit cards and my Google ads are running.

Now I have to just hope that when I post purchases to my customers, the queues in the Post Office don't grind me to a complete hault. While I am standing waiting in line for around an hour (no exaggeration) I hope I can at least plan the next series of paintings I want to start in January, and I really can't wait to start on them.

More abstract ones, using colours that are out of my comfort zone, I think - it'll make for some surprises along the way.

Vandalism and Other Irritations

It's not been the best start to the year. One of my paintings, hanging in an exhibition, has been vandalised. Somewhat upsetting as it is gratingly obvious.

Someone just decided to pick off some of the light coloured thick paint right in the middle of the canvas revealing a hole at the bottom of which is dark under paint. It was just such a pointless thing to do, and I find it distressing. What does it say about the painting, or my work, or me as an artist?

Meanwhile, I have been told that my paintings are morbid and have been asked if I could do something cheerier, like flower paintings. I was somewhat taken aback and rather upset (stoically tried not to show it) as I've never heard my landscapes and skyscapes described like that, certainly not to my face.

I find the criticism all the more confusing as the people doing the opining have my paintings in a corridor against dark wallpaper. The lighting is angled at the dark blue carpeted floor and not my paintings. I'm trying not to let it bother me, but I still find it unsettling even though the conditions aren't exactly of a gallery quality.

Here's one of the morbid ones; let me know what you think.

Image: New Year's Day, Troon, oil on canvas, 102 x 76cm (40 x 30")