It is true to say, living in Paris, makes it much easier to make contacts. It has been quite a long journey and I have I have to be thankful to a friend of a friend who invited me to an exhibition and suggested that I introduce myself to the gallery owner and make an appointment to show her my work. The first showing of my work involved some painful silences while the gallery owner leafed through my drawings. This was only stage one of the process. Luckily I was able to convince her I was worth another look. I was told to call after the holidays, there was no sense of urgency on her part, to arrange a time for her to see my larger works. This also gave me time to buy some large canvasses and to try to forge a better impression with her, I knew full well she was a tough cookie to impress

We made an appointment. I dragged more and more of my work, getting more and more desperate, again there were desperate distraught silences. As she gawped at my work, I was calculating, what was going on in her mind. She was worried I presumed I did not have enough work to fill her gallery. Finally I got the nod of head approval I was looking for, however no definitive date. Months past and thought my promised exhibition had been forgotten. Then a card to say, my exhibition would be in May, but no concrete date given, but my hopes for a exhibition, seemed a lot closer. Finally an e mail with a proposed date. It is nice to work towards something concrete, rather than just working for the sake of working, but the last few months have been all about this exhibition. Polishing up. old works, keeping an eye on the streets of Paris, for discarded pieces of wood, that can be transformed into works of art, or other suitable objet trouvé.

Painting is an obsession, it drives me crazy. I live in a small space, a space dominated by painting. My paintings are never far from my mind, plotting strategies and colours, how to improve my paintings. People often ask how long it takes to complete one of my paintings, the truth is some of the paintings in my exhibition, had been started maybe four years ago and have been constantly worked on and re-styled, a constant evolution and with regular reappraisal.

I can wake up in the morning look at a painting and feel an urge to work in it, sometimes clad in a t shirt and boxer shorts. If people really knew the state I live in, I would be taken away by men in white coats, but there are painters out there who I am sure understand my obsession, with slapping on paint. There are periods when you wonder, why do I go through all of this? Is there any outcome or reward at the end it? Take the paintings out of my dark and dingy apartment, put them in orderly lines on a white wall and they take on a new identity. I had to struggle to take some of them on the metro. I have had to balance working towards this show and doing my job of teaching. The fact is, paint gets everywhere, when you are working in a confined space. You get paint on your favourite clothes, clothes that are supposed to look immaculate for work, because I work with professional business people, some of whom are interested in my other life, but other would totally unimpressed if they spotted a dollop of paint on my clothes or remnants of paint on my hands.

It?s a dangerous game doing a bit of painting before going on a work mission, but sometimes my painting obsession dictates, I have to fulfil this requirement. Painting drives me crazy, other creative activities, relax, but when I paint, I can get into a frenzy. My apartment gets more and more chaotic and rituals of tidying get brushed aside, despite the fact I like order. When I get into painting mode nothing can stop, I paint until I feel I am done, and only then can I do necessities such as eating. It is a very insular world, I don?t what I do, until this exhibition, where my soul is laid bare.

It?s great to see the work up on the walls, but standing with the gallery owner and her long grey bearded friend, a musician who had been to England to pursue his musical career and had rock star circa early Pink Floyd, written all over him waiting for people to arrive, is a nerve racking experience. My biggest fear, will people come? Of course I have sent out invitations, e mails to anybody I thought might come. I have coaxed friends to invite their friends, if they have rich friends, even better. A lot happens Paris and people have choices how to spend their Saturday nights. I struggle to make polite conversation in French, I feel uncomfortable and almost inadequate.

The first person to arrive, is a man with a pork pie hat, in fact a few minutes after the anointed time for the opening of the show. We are all huddled by the bottles of wine and bread and pate. I suppose for all the first people, I watch what they do. The gallery owner is not the welcoming type, she would fit in a Dicken?s story easily. She only shows empathy towards the group of people who come to all the exhibitions she puts on, who have been coming for years no doubt. Having been to previous shows at the gallery L?Usine (the factory) I knew that at least some long haired rather elderly Monet look alikes were likely to come. I?d had this dark fear a few days before the opening of my exhibition, when I imagined French transport workers would go on strike, meaning my show would be a sure disaster, with people staying at home. All this absurd paranoia sweeping through my mind.

With a small crowd assembled, at least my first fear, of an empty vernissage (private view) was averted. Then of course you want the people to stay a reasonable length of time. My next fear was, would they spend the time to look at the works, or would they just converse and drink wine, the art work being low on their agenda? This fear was also averted.

I was really impressed that people were making some astute observations, about some of themes that run through my work. Some told me their preferences, which is fine, we are all entitled to our preferences. In the end, the price and effort was worth it. When this exhibition is over and I shifted all the work back to my small apartment, I will look towards doing another exhibition, but the memory from this one will be positive and will remain.

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