Happy today

I'm not happy my wife and I are separating, nor am I thrilled with the huge upheaval this is causing our children and family. It sucks, and more often than not my moods are all over the place, ranging from outrage to melancholy, to giddy, morose and everything in between – as you might expect. However, with every major turmoil of this sort there are plenty of opportunities for reflection and reassessment of priorities, then a chance to do things differently ... and hopefully better. There are silver linings to everything, and rediscovering my freedom and sense of spontaneous joy are just some I've experienced recently.

For the past few years I've had a little studio in a shed behind our house. The operative word here is "little" because it's about the size of the Tardis, but without all the extra room inside. It's been good though, with a stream that babbles nearby, sunlight through a big window, a proximity to our house that has provided both distance and closeness when needed, and most importantly, a door I can close that says to the world "I'm working. It's important. Go away."

But for a while now I've been aching for something new, something different, something ... well, bigger. Like a cicada nymph that has outgrown its skin, I've been yearning to stretch my wings and inhabit a space that more aptly suits my ambitions. It's been great, my modest shed, but it's also time to move on and become more professional.

The place where a person works is important of course, and it can be inspirational or soul-crippling depending on the environment. Over the years I've drawn and pursued my art in all kinds of locations: in bed with a notebook when I was in high school; on the kitchen table when I was at university; in a rented room in an old Victorian-era house when I was first having a crack at becoming a pro; back to the bedroom when I was flatting in Seattle; then various out-of-the-way corners of whatever house I was renting when I first moved to Nelson. Most have been been determined by necessity (and a lack of money) rather than choice, but as I've gotten older my tolerance for crappy working spaces has decreased and I'm increasingly unwilling to compromise.

My shed has been the first real studio completely dedicated to art, writing, model-making, bug collecting, or whatever else catches my fancy. It's been an extension of my imagination; an impregnable sanctuary where I've been hatching plans and concocting stories for ages, and it has been wholly mine. And while I've been thinking of shifting somewhere else, I've also been reluctant to let it go because of the comfort, the memories, and the ease with which I slip inside and disappear into other worlds.

Enter my divorce. Now that we're selling our house, the decision to move has been made for me, so for the past two weeks I've been on a quest to find a new creative space. It had to be secure, close to Nelson, with good light and plenty of room. But most of all it had to be me, which is to say, kind of quirky and kind of homey, infinitely playful but with a sniff of seriousness and the occasional hint of sophistication.

I looked all over the city, called a real estate agent who showed me several brand new premises right downtown, but all of them had yet to be broken in and had the plastic, chemically smell of new carpet. Plus they looked too pristine; the walls were too white, the floors yet unstained by ink. I couldn't imagine myself settling in and making them proper studios without incurring huge bond fees when I eventually departed.

Then, out of the blue I happened to remember where my artist friend Dean once worked several years ago. On a former rubbish dump (true; they put a marae there too, which almost beggars belief) at the edge of town there is a marvellous place called Founders Park that is rapidly becoming the "it" spot in Nelson. From humble beginnings as a collection of unwanted heritage buildings, it has grown into an estate that is both museum and lush park grounds, civic meeting place and function centre. It has a fantastic cafe and organic brewery called ... yep, Founders Brewery ... a working railroad, collections of aeroplanes and cars, studios for artists and craftsmen of all sorts, venues for every conceivable festival, and now a place for me. I called the manager and inquired about studios; one just happened to be available. It was Providence.

The pic at the top is an old home called The Duncan House, relocated from Collingwood Street some time ago and refurbished after it arrived at Founders. My new office has everything I dreamed of: space, cosiness, the amenities necessary for my work (i.e. broadband), good light, a safe location, and best of all it's situated in the most peaceful, fun, funky, and inspiring spot in town. It's probably haunted too, which is cool. I couldn't have envisioned a better studio; every time I see that pic or imagine how it's going to look after I move in, I smile. It feels like both evolution and a return to my roots at the same time.

I may not be happy all the time, but thinking of where I'm going to be working soon, I'm sure as hell happy today.

Now, to the toons. One commenter on my blog this week wondered if I had an axe to grind with the new government, suggesting most of my cartoons recently have been attacking them. I said I didn't have any particular grudge against one party or the other, and that my comments were philosophical opinions, focusing on the issues ... or something like that. But if you saw this cartoon and the one the day before, you might disagree because, well, they're definitely making fun of our new government.

Look, I admire the certainty, decisiveness and conviction with which National is implementing its plans and trying to improve New Zealand. For the first time in nine years our elected officials are getting things done without having to horse trade, quibble and haggle over every detail with the minor parties, and that's refreshing. But I still can't say I agree with everything they're doing, and wholesale ditching our green policies because of the recession is plain stupid. While the rest of the world, and the United States in particular, is waking up to the realities of climate change, New Zealand is slamming its gears in reverse and beating a hasty retreat back to the 1980s.

Saving the environment can be as profitable as it is physically edifying, and only the tragically myopic (or patently stupid and evil) would seek to continue the way we humans have been living beyond our means. "Sustainability" isn't just the rallying cry of the affluent urban eco-warriors who have the time and money to be activists; it's soon going to be the requirement for our continued existence upon this planet. Repealing the ban on coal- and gas-fired power generators while making no other plans or provisions for cleaner alternative sources of energy is totally retrograde – as is repealing the biofuels requirements for petrol companies.

I think Santa would have something to say about this. Unfortunately his punishment of choice would bring a smile to Gerry Brownlee's face.

I was sceptical when I heard Labour accusing National of playing up ACC's account deficits so it could soften the public to the idea of privatisation, but now I'm not so sure. With the announcement that ACC levies are soon about to increase and completely eat up our tax cuts, some people will now be thinking that private insurance is the way to go.

It's not.

As someone who has lived in America a large portion of his life, I can tell you first hand what it's like to be uninsured and always worried about what would happen if you injured yourself and couldn't work. It stinks. The States can indeed be a place of opportunity and fabulous success for those who work hard, but it can also be a mean place, where disadvantaged people fall through the cracks in the system all the time – never to be heard from again.

Be very glad we still have our social safety nets, even if the people running ACC have made some boneheaded investment decisions recently and left themselves exposed to the argument for privatisation. Meanwhile, brace yourself for a heated discussion about ACC's future next year, when the levy chickens come home to roost. All of this is playing into the government's hands pefectly. Even if they didn't plan it, you can bet they're enjoying it.

Have a great weekend!