There’s art to be made.
The Muse Letter No. 166
I feel like I have fallen out of time and in a way that is actually true as the sun is kissing my feet, looking over the vast green landscape of southern Mallorca: I am having a second summer.
I wake up in the morning and find the house circled in white mist, opaque sunlight shining through glistening water particles swirling in the air. I’ll have ginger tea and eggs for breakfast, I’ll write my morning pages, stretch as the sun is reaching the patio, meditate, draw a tarot card for guidance and start my day. An artist residency is a peculiar state of being. This idea that a change of scenery and pace will illicit something.
At the beginning of this week, before taking two flights to escape the November grey of Edinburgh, I went to a book launch in Portobello to hear
present his latest book Consolations II. Someone had sent me one of his poems years ago, when I was going through a harrowing breakup and this one line has never left me since then:‘Sometimes it t…