I got to bed at 3am, after a long evening spent re-working sketches for a new painting. An hour and a half later, I was up again. I wanted to beat the hell-ish crosstown commuter traffic on the long drive to my enamel studio in the 'far west' of Sydney.A two-man team from a specialist shipping company arrived at the studio at 9.30am to wrap and take away a two-metre high Dangerous Career Babe bound for Melbourne. I put in four solid hours drawing in the outline for another large work on a freshly gessoed timber frame, then approved the colours to be applied to two large areas of the composition. My cell-phone interrupted me half a dozen times: enquiries from collectors in the UK, USA and closer to home, most of whom found my prices daunting even before I told them how much specific works were.
The new owners of The Surfer, the most recently completed Dangerous Career Babe, dropped by after lunch to inspect the finished painting and to organise its delivery to its new home in one of Sydney's more fashionable beachside suburbs. The couple loved the work so much, they wanted to throw a party to celebrate its arrival. It struck me, suddenly (and a little sadly), that the work had ceased to belong to me and rather like a mother whose child has grown up, I had to let it go.I made it home again long after sunset. I stripped, showered and fell into bed to eat a light meal while I watched an old Stewart Granger movie on cable. I fell hard asleep before it ended.