Having a relatively short attention span when it comes to ideas and preoccupations, I rarely draw 'studies' for paintings. I'm never really that well prepared, and am usually just hoping things will turn out OK. Mostly, the image is making a kind of faith-based jump from my mind to the page. 

And, unsurprisingly, it rarely turns out how I'd initially hoped it would. 

So I'm trying to form a habit of working on studies; familiarising myself with what I'm trying to produce. Here's a couple from the weekend, which, as so often happens, just deteriorated into me painting gum blossoms. 

Also, a time-lapse video of me drawing is up on the Volcom blog here. 

Rings by Rejoice the Hands, Coyote Negro and Southset (now Of Earth and Stars); Volcom pants; Jo Mercer shoes; Cait Miers Washed Elegance photo book. 

So, I acquired three really excellent things last week – a car, a banjo, and my Harley boots back from the re-solers – but I have none of them actually here. To wit, the banjo is en route from the supplier, the car is back at the farm approximately 2000km away, and I had to take my boots back to the shop because the glue didn’t take properly in one spot.

These kind of occurrences are totally indicative of my life in general … happy – occasionally disappointing and frustrating – but mostly happy, and forever in anticipation of something good in the works, which isn’t quite here yet. 

ALSO, there was one more excellent arrival in my life last week ...
When we were moving house last year, we found a weird, tentacle-y, potted succulent in our backyard, hidden under a bush. As with anything vaguely interesting that I stumble across, I took it with me.

Then last week it sent out some unusual looking shoots, and I started to second-guess my assessment of it as a benign alien-plant.
It was up to something. 

But, as it turns out, it was just flowering; producing one perfect, five-petaled bloom. I've been told it's a carrion flower -- Stapelia -- which is kind of gross, but the stink is definitely outweighed by the weirdness and beauty. 

Sketchbook pages December 24 - January 4, vintage necklaces and dress (underneath sketchbooks), rings from Coyote Negro and Rejoice the Hands.

Right now I'm feeling a little put off by everyone starting the new year with great health-and-fitness plans and super-new-work-ethics and every kind of world-dominating resolve that comes with a two-week break mostly fuelled by alcohol and too much food. 

Because all I'm starting the year with is some kind of throat/chest infection and I've spent the last three days sleeping/whingeing/watching bad TV shows.

So I'm just hoping that that old new year's adage -- that how you spend the first day of the year is a portent for how the rest of the year will be -- is totally untrue (although, if it were true, wouldn't most people just be hungover all year, which … well, never mind). 

Anyway, I'm not one for new year's resolutions -- or even life goals for that matter. My plan is, as usual, to stick to working hard and see where that takes me. Last year, at least, it took me some pretty interesting and memorable places. 

The only thing I'm highlighting as a possible resolution is to take better care of my health, and to stop pushing myself to burnout. Last year was probably the worst year of sickness and collapsing immunity that I've ever had. It was also the year that I pushed myself the hardest and probably also drank too much, too often. So that's my one thing this year, to try and circumvent that kind of behaviour.

Oh, and I'm buying a banjo. That was one of last year's resolutions, but, whatever. 

When it comes to banjos, I feel like any time is a good time. 

Just before midnight, we carried a ladder down the street and up the ramp into a nearby level parking lot. A group of maybe 20 people, one after the other, climbed up onto the roof, avoided the thin skylight panels, and stepped over to the edge. From there, we could see the fireworks all across the Melbourne skyline, from one strange outlying building to the heart of the CBD. 

We were laughing and chattering and drinking and half-watching, but we were soon forgetting it and trying to work out how to get down the ladder and move on to the night's next concern, whatever that was. 

So, now I just hope the rest of this new year is full of more moments -- however brief -- that are bright and unexpected and unusual. 

Wishing you magical wonder vibes for the year ahead.