On occasions I simply cannot do what normal people do with ease and take for granted. I’m a complex creature, prone to strange rhythms and small rebellions against routine. It’s after lunch on a Friday and I have been up all night playing with my website, listening to music and looking forward to the sun coming up. The sun would rise, I would hear my brother leave for work, and then I thought up the great idea of closing my eyes—just for a second, I told myself. I inevitably passed out and didn’t wake until after 10am. I was meant to be out painting hours ago, I thought to myself, mildly annoyed and oddly amused. It always takes me time to wake up and motivate myself until a few energy drinks and coffees help boost my awareness of this space I inhabit. I have never been a morning person at all until over the last twelve months or so; progressively I have become almost completely nocturnal. It sometimes feels like I have the world to myself in those quiet hours, and I like it.
Anyway, I get up late, unmotivated; it’s raining, and I’m in a pissy mood—probably from a lack of sleep. A few hours later it dawns on me that, deep down, I had no inclination to create art today. It’s better to recognise that before I put brush to canvas, because at times like these I’m far better off not working while I’m feeling silly. I don’t enjoy the process when my head is like this, and I’m sure it shows in the work. The problem is that as the day wears on I become more energised, and then the artistic juices begin to flow. That means sleep is out the window. Somehow, in the end, everything feels complete. I’m definitely not a morning person!
I had planned to work on a large canvas, but I ended up brushing that idea aside to focus on something smaller and more manageable. I recently bought a stack of very expensive acrylic paper, and it has been a real treat to use. There's hardly any setup — I can work in the warmth of the house, listen to podcasts, and get comfortable on my bed. My psychiatrist insists my bed should be for sleeping; he is not an artist. For more than three decades, disrupted sleeping patterns were a torment to me. I would imagine the sky falling if I didn’t get enough rest. These days I don’t worry about it so much. I don’t have a conventional job that requires an early alarm, and most of the time I don’t have responsibilities that force me to crawl out of bed. I sleep when I’m tired and wake when I wake. It still puzzles me how I can arise after only a few hours’ sleep and function like a normal person. In the end, it comes down to my deep love of art and generous doses of caffeine — my constant companion and mischievous mistress.