I bought a painting today, I bought it for real cash money. Quite a lot of real cash money, but it's money I might not have had (that's another story), so buying a painting seemed like a good use for it. One of Nancy Mitford's heroines bought jewellery with windfall money, it's that kind of thing.
The painting is in Japan, drying in a wintry fire-warmed Japanese loungeroom in an icy northern harbour city. It's green and blue - the painting, but also a lot of that island. It's a painting of a shed, an honest, stalwart sort of thing, that my friend who painted it really likes. She can see it from her little place on the coast, and she doesn't tire of painting it.
There are little sailing boats scored into the background, they're for me, because I like sailing.
I put the real cash money in an envelope and dropped it into a post box. It was the best way, my friend told me. It's her own fault if it gets lost, she said. The bank fees are crazy, she explained. I told her I had the horrors when I dropped it in, and felt queasy afterwards, but actually I didn't, I just let it happen in a moment, and then that moment was gone.
My painting
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I go down to my workshop and open it up, give the dogs some water, do some of the work I've planned. But it's two hours drive there and two hours drive back and I don't have a lot of time. If I'm early enough I take the dogs for a walk and look at things I'd like to paint. Then I come back to the workroom and it's got such a great table and window and so I sit down and across the road is this shed I really like. I'll just paint that shed, I think. One day I'm going to go there for a week. Go fishing and visit some bars and paint something that's not that shed....
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