Materials and Stories

 

Rosalie Gasgoine

Lantern (detail), recycled retro reflective road signs on plywood 102.6x77cm 1990

Lorraine Connelly-Northey

Possum Skin Cloak, rusted  corrugated iron and wire 119.5x131.5x5cm 2005-2006

What a joy to finally go out in to the world and see some art again.  I ventured both locally and megalopolisly (Melbourne.  And yes, I just made that word up).  Most thrilling of all, was the opportunity to see Found And Gathered, the Rosalie Gasgoine and Lorraine Connelly-Northey exhibition at the Ian Potter Center in Federation Square.

Reflecting on this exhibition, several things come to mind.  The lack of people was eerily evident. The gallery was empty of patrons, which allowed for greater indulgence when spending time with the work.  The other thing that struck me, was the sense of light and space in this exhibition.  It was like the walls were breathing.  There seemed to be so much light and space, that each artwork floated in a sea of white space.  The combination of these two curatorial aspects allowed for a deeper contemplation and appreciation of each artwork on its own, and in relation to the exhibition as a whole.

My greatest admiration for these woman’s artwork, was the repurposing of discarded materials to create, or recreate, stories.While Rosalie creates an aesthetic from her collected objects, her titles often reflect poems or literary references.  Lorraine uses discarded materials associated with European settlement, wire, corrugated iron, pressed metal, and manipulates them in commentary on the relationship between European and indigenous cultures, the traditional stories of her maternal Waradgenrie Country.  

While Rosalies work explores repetition, wide open spaces, country and loneliness, Lorraines work explores her indigenous heritage and traditions, and stories of community and Country.  Both these women weave stories and experiences using industrial materials found in tips and roadside, documenting personal journeys and and a sense of place. It was my absolute pleasure spending time in an empty gallery with both of these remarkable women.

siobhankelleyartist.com

Experience and memory

Bay, acrylic on hand sewn canvas 42x54cm 2021

Intruder, acrylic on hand sewn canvas 153x123cm 2021

I have been pouring (pawing) over two of my Rosalie catalogues in awe of her love of the found object and her wonderful sense of aesthetic.  There is something about Rosalies sensibility in handling weathered and worn enamel, corrugated iron, road signs and wood that excites my imagination. Her work speaks about the experience of landscape in a way that is not literal, and yet it is. It is the experience of finding an object, washed up on a beach or discarded by the side of a road. The experience of walking through sun dappled trees in summer heat or driving through seemingly endless wheat fields, vineyards, cow paddocks. The endless expanse.

It speaks about the use of materials, abandoned when no longer required, left to weather and age in the landscape, often in tips. It talks about salvage and rescue and repurposing before it became a political agenda. It speaks of history made contemporary, and most importantly it speaks about our interaction with  the land.

I have been in adoration of Rosalie since high school, and while she was a huge influence on my work back then, it wasn’t until very recently that one of those pivotal moments occurred and I allowed her influence to once again wash over me. My interpretation of her work has emerged in the form of hand sewn canvas. I have been working on sewn canvas since my final year of undergraduate studies at university. By the third year of my degree, and after having moved out of home for the last two of them, I was pretty well financially ruined. In an attempt to both save money and keep painting, I began to sew together all the off cuts of canvas I had salvaged over the years. That year, I also began sewing paper together to create very large drawings. And now I find myself, once again at the top of that circle. Circle? Well, I guess it’s more like a spiral because it doesn’t end, it moves on. And I once again find myself creating the lush and textural finishes that make playing with paint a pure joy.

It is this that draws me to her work, how playing with such humble materials can evoke such emotion. 

 

Update from the studio

It has been a while, five years in fact, but I have decided to reinvigorate my blogspot, which I am then hoping to attach to my website…when I make the time and effort to sit down and do it. Harder for me is the business side of the self employed artist. Easier is the hiding in the studio, head down, brush in hand. This I could do, aspire to do every day. 

I wanted to share with you a painting I am currently working on. It’s based on a local boat shed that fell in to disrepair. At the beginning of last year I started painting over and cutting up old paintings, then hand sewed them back together to replicate weatherboard. For me the weatherboard represents the Australian landscape, everything from inner city workers cottages, to the country farm house, to the iconic boat sheds that line the Melbourne beaches. There is something about the pantina  piece of wood that intrigues me. It has a history, like everything else. It is also something I like to recreate with paint. There is something cathartic about applying and removing paint from canvas. It’s waiting for each layer to dry that makes me pace the studio impatiently.

The Secret World

 I have always found artists studios an intriguing and wonderous space.  I have always considered it a priveldge to enter another artists studio as it provides a glimpse in to the workings of another persons mind.  Artists studios are  filled with finished works, works in progress, abandoned work and those that are not working at all.  Visual refereces adorn walls and vie for space among the finished and incomplete pieces.  Sketches, marquettes, photographs, invitations and images of other artists work who inspire and nourish provide insight into potential and unrealised dreams.

I love the artistic language.  I love to hear artists speak about their work and their working methods with such confidence and clarity about the drive, the process and the realisation of completed work.  Whether it - in their opinion - achieved the original vision, fell short or exceeded expectation.  It is fascinating to hear them speak about the life experiences that inspire them and the processes of  reinterpreting and reinventing to achieve a completed work.

I love watching artists at work in their studios, watching the decisions that are made, the way materials are manipulated and applied,  the way tools are used to mark, carve, administer and smooth.  I love the artistic process and the extremes of emotions from the endless beating and berating in those long, dark, lonely hours when nothing seems possible (maybe not that part quite so much), to the sheer joy of the 'Aha' and the all over glow of success - how ever that may be defined.

 The artists studio is like entering a secret world.  Here is a small glimpse of mine.

In the studio

 Solitude, oil on canvas 120x120cm

Currently untitled (Gratitude/ Attitude), oil on canvas 120x120cm

It has been a while and there has been plenty happening.  As is evidenced from the two paintings above, I have been busy in the studio.  In another first for this year, this is the first time I have gone back in to the studio and painted landscapes from a combination of photographs and memory.  Obviously I have painted landscapes before.  I hardly think I could refer to myself as a landscape artist and not paint a landscape, but it has been ten years since I painted a horizon line or a sky in the studio.  When I returned to study a post graduate degree some...eleven(?) years ago It was all about movement and horizon.  I painted from photographs, or 'prints' as they were referred to and I observed colour and light.  Then in my first year of post graduate study my lecturer said to me 'I think you need to go outside and paint', and so I did.  (Have I mentioned this dialogue before?)  It was not until the masterclass with Euan MacLeod and he mentioned that he painted landscapes in the studio from photographs and memory that it actually occurred to me that this was a plausible method of painting.  Is that strange?  I also heard an interview with Amanda Penrose Hart, whose work appears so instant and lush and rich that it seems unimaginable she would spend more than half an hour applying paint to canvas or board, say that she had spent a year on one painting.  

Armed with all this information, several tubes of oil paint, a few old canvases and a couple of coastal photos that I took, I set forth to conquer the photographic landscape.  And do you know something?  I have actually been have fun!  I enjoy the play of paint, the experimentation, making a mark and then wiping it away again.  I have not become a slave to the image, which I thought I would having done so in every other painting I have copied from print, rather I use the image as a rough guide to colour, light and movement until the painting takes a life of its own and the image become irrelevant.  Essentially, the application of paint itself is all about line, depth, perspective, colour, light and tone, the language of art.

I am going to enter the top painting 'Solitude' in The Mission to Seafarers Victoria annual maritime art awards, The ANL Art Prize.  This painting is about not only those who spend months alone at sea, but the ones they leave on land.  Suitably melancholy.

The Blues

 

The Channel, acrylic on paper 21x15cm

 

The blues

 

At Anchor, acrylic on canvas 25x20cm

I am back in Port Hedland for two weeks of winter.  It has been winter, it rained three days in a row.  And it was cold.  I have been sitting at Cemetery Beach painting the ships as they journey in and out of the harbor, and those at anchor.  The challenges I have been faced with are numerous.  I have noticed how quickly the tide changes (I was nearly swamped on two occasions), how quickly the sun heats up in the morning, and how quickly it moves through the sky.  Light and tides changes more rapidly in winter here than at home on the peninsula.  Acrylic paint dries out in the pallet before it is applied to the canvas.

The other notable difference between Port Phillip Bay and the Indian Ocean is the colour of the water.  The bay is a variations of greens, turquiose and naples yellow.  The ocean is blue, cerulean, cobalt, ultramarine, phthalo or midnight depending on the intensity of the clouds, position of the sun and the flow of the tide.  Of course sometimes, in the afternoon when the sun is in the north, the ocean becomes as reflective as a mirror and emits an almost pure white, which you can tan yourself by.  I should know, I sat there long enough to turn a delicate shade of pink.

I think we are all conscious of the subtleties of the environment that surrounds us, but it is not until experiencing completely disparate environment that those subtleties are truly brought to light.  It has been a pleasure to finally be able to sit in this intense and desolate landscape and paint the ocean that has become so familiar to me over the past five years. I feel this is a very winter specific exercise for Port Hedland, as the thought of spending two hours painting in unrelenting sunshine over the summer does not excite me, but I do think next time I am here I will continue my studies of the Pilbaras light and colours with the intention of creating larger paintings in the relative comfort of my studio.

Masterclass

http://niagaragalleries.com.au/artist/euan-macleod

 Portsea, acrylic on canvas paper 21x30cm

 Queenscliff, acrylic on canvas paper 21x30cm

Queenscliff, acrylic on canvas paper 15x21cm

I am wondering how many adjectives I can use to describe the en plein air master class with Euan Macleod at Police Point last Tuesday.  Inspirational, broadening, beneficial, constructive, uplifting.  Unlike a previous en plein air workshop that I had attended through the Mornington Peninsula Regional Gallery, that left me feeling lousy and debilitated, Euan actually liked my work and encouraged me to continue.

In the past two months I had set myself a number of goals to experiment with, the first being time.  I have been attempting, since February, to paint more immediately.  My tendency, I believe, is to over paint an image to the point where it looses the lovely fresh, spontaneous marks of paint on canvas that is achieved in the first few minuets of a painting.  The second was to try painting on different coloured grounds, rather than white to see what happened to colour and light.

With these things in mind I set out for Police Point with a purpose and questions.  Fortunately I met Euan at the opening of 'Country and Western, the landscape re-imagined'.  This was helpful because it broke that awful barrier of awe, which creates a sense of unworthiness on the admirers part.  I spoke to him about the masterclass and he told me to bring some other work with me.

Arriving at Police Point, I had a confidence and sense of purpose that usually alludes me on these type of occasions.  As a result I was able to talk to Euan about my work and received some encouraging feedback.  I brought with me some of the small plein air paintings I had completed in Sorrento while my daughter learned to sail.  I explained that I was concerned about the amount of time I was spending on these paintings and showed him a few that were done in fifteen minuets.  He told me the longer paintings were as good as the quick ones and not to be concerned about the time spent on them, rather try to make a painting that works.  He also thought scale was not an issue.  Most of my plein air paintings are quite small, I usually sit and paint them in my lap.  He told me to do what feels right, to experiment and enjoy the process, which I do.  

Then we discussed the grounds.  He told me he usually cleans his oil brushes on a clean canvas, rather than trying to wash it, resulting in a grey ground on which to start.  I have experimented with several colours and read about the appropriate ground colours for the various landscapes.  From experience and observation I have found that using a lighter yellow brings a peninsula autumn to life.

Euan also observed, which I had never really considered before, that all of my horizon lines are centre in my work.  It actually made me laugh when I looked at all of my work.  "It's what I do, I am not even conscious of it, I start by dividing a canvas in two and painting a sky and a ground."  He suggested mixing this up a little and then added, "Maybe you don't need too".

The final thing we discussed was my skies.  I have spent the majority of my plein air life painting water, the sky is usually something of an after thought and something I have not given much time or thought to.  I usually throw down a bit of blue and a bit of white and whalla...sky!  Then I stumbled across Amanda Penrose Hart.  Oh my goodness, sky!  Amanda paints moody, gutsy, atmospheric skies that dominate the landscape.  They are thick and rich and edible. 

That twenty minuet conversation with Euan created in me a desire to paint and paint and paint, something that had alluded me for so long.  From this conversation I made a decision to listen to my intuition, to play and experiment and have fun and not worry.  I have some boards I am preparing to take outside and paint, possibly in oil.  Everyday I go outside now I am observing the sky, its colours and shapes.  I paint it in my mind, and then I observe the colours and shapes of the land and how they contrast against the enormity of the sky.

I am hooked, once again on painting the land, the skies, the sea and the emotion of my part of the world.

http://niagaragalleries.com.au/artist/euan-macleod

http://kingstreetarchives.com.au/artists/amanda-penrose-hart/

http://mprg.mornpen.vic.gov.au/EXHIBITIONS/Country_Western

Sex, death and serenity

Mona ninja and Bat girl selfie

The best and only way to arrive at MONA is to emerge from the 'posh pit' of the MONA ferry boat, full of champagne and canapes.  

Leaving for Tasmania I was convinced I was the only person on the planet who had not been to MONA.  'Sex and death' declared a lady in my Pilate's class, 'My seventy seven year old mother is going there this weekend, I'm not sure what she'll think of it'.  I was also told of the fifty plaster cast virginas.  Armed with this information and a head full of champagne, my very dear friend Louise and I ascended the 100 steps to the mirrored wall entrance of MONA.

MONA is an experience.  It is unlike any other exhibition space I have been in.  It is dark and immersive and unapologetic.  Its contents are challenging, thought provoking, provocative and humorous.  I am not saying that I engaged with everything within the dark cavernous walls, like any gallery or museum there are always artworks that are walked past without hesitation, but the pieces I admired most stayed with me long after our champagne induced return.

Sex.  The first of these I very nearly walked past.  From the outside it appeared as an enormous cube with a door in it.  It appeared as part of the building.  But then someone emerged from the room and we could hear music playing.  There was something in there.  There was indeed.  Thirty television screens with images of dedicated Madonna enthusiasts belting out the songs of Madonna karaoke style.  We pulled up some silver beans bags and settled back to watch.  I found it intriguing to compare the differing personalities and the obvious love and enthusiasm they have for their idol.  Naturally voyeuristic, it is not long before comparisons are made and favourites are decided.  Even in the comfort of a small room watching this strangely mesmerising and compelling footage, human instinct could not be tamed.

Death.  My other two stand outs of MONA were also rooms within the space.  Immersive in that entering the artwork was part of the experience.  I should put a spoiler alert on the following review, for it will give the secret away.  "Kryptos", or the binary room is a small dark space entered by a corridor.  Binary numbers and words appear in laser cut outs along the walls, and is lit by strip lighting under the path.  There is an unpleasant humming that echoes around the walls, that bring you to a narrower corridor, where the humming is reduced and almost relaxing.  The corridor leads to a small door way that requires crouching to move through.  The space inside is quite small, possibly the size of a small elevator and is very dark.  Louise had entered the space ahead of me and had just looked up as I began to enter the space.  I had not even stood up when I looked up and saw, what I believed, where two bodies hanging from ropes around their ankles.  Naturally I scream and shot out of the space while my head slowly registered it was a reflection of Louise and myself...inverted...in a black mirror? I don't know, and I did not go back.  Louise was so distressed she had to wait and see other people's reactions to the space to understand her own.  They were pretty much the same.  Later we marvelled that an artwork could evoke such emotion.

Serenity.  Possibly my favourite of all the exhibition pieces.  It is a completely white room, with fluorescent lighting, which takes a moment to adjust to after being seduced by the dark space that is MONA.  It is a library full of white bound books with no words.  It is blissfully peaceful.  It is like the space that you crave in your head or in your house or in your world.  A space devoid of information throwing itself at you constantly.  It is the zen garden.  Quiet, still, calm and breathing. Again this space made me think about art in a way I had not before.

I think that was the significance of these three pieces.  They each made me consider that art could be more than something to be looked at or critiqued or debated.  Art can be a space that can be entered in to and that can evoke an emotional experience.  I believe the lighting enhanced that experience.  The black walls and tiny spotlights produced a reassuring, calming effect.  It melted inhibitions and gave permission to stand and appreciate, or not, with out feeling the spotlight of judgement was on you.

Although confronting in parts, I have not heard anyone I have spoken to say a negative word against MONA.  I think that is because it is not trying to be something, it just is.  It is someones private collection, housed in someones private purpose built gallery, and it allows the most wonderful experience because of it.

A4

     Boney, acrylic and cotton on paper 297mm x 210mm

 Leafy (work in progress), acrylic on paper 297mm x 210mm

Feathery, acrylic and cotton on paper 297mm x 210mm

I have just realised that, in true Siobhan fashion, I do not have a phtotograph of the completed Leafy painting which I sent to Melbourne yesterday.  That means it will probably sell and I will never see it again.  Perhaps I should have listened to that voice in the back of my head whispering "Take a photograph now before it's too late."  Alas, I listened to the other voice that said "If you don't send them off tomorrow, you risk not being in the show". 

The Show is, of course, The Contemporary Art Society of Victoria's A4 Art Australia exhibition held on Herring Island as a part of the Summer Arts Festival.  Herring Island, for those of you unfamiliar with Melbourne, is a tiny little island in the Yarra River in South Yarra.  The only way to reach the island is by punt, which departs the Como Landing at regular intervals.

The objects I painted were chosen specifically for their size and shape.  I included the shadows of leaves becasue I felt they added depth.  I choose to ignore the shadows of the ibis skull and leafy sea dragon  because I felt the objects filled the page without requiring anything extra.  That and they were reasonably complicated.  I have noticed that while I always paint the shadows of leaves, I rarely paint the shadows of feathers.  I'm not sure why that is.  Perhaps it is because most of the feathers I paint are black and white and I tend to paint shadows in grey?  While leaves are quite curly and have remarkably interesting shadows that help create a sense of form and depth.

So these three paintings will be framed and hung with (no doubt) hundreds of other A4 sized art works.  And once again I have found another distraction from the work that I was doing.

Pleasure and pain

                                                       Pilbara flowers, acrylic on paper

                                                       Pilbara feathers, acrylic on paper

As you all know from my last blog, I spent Christmas in my beloved Pilbara.  The above are some small paintings I made while I was there.  The flowers were collected from the garden at the Port Hedland house and the foreshore at Cemetery Beach and the boat ramp.  I painted them on the day I collected them.  As you can imagine, they wilt pretty quickly.  The hawk or osprey feather I found on a windswept walk along Cemetery Beach and the earth stained Corella feather was located on Athol Street during my morning run.

I am planning a small work which will incorporate these paintings and include several more made from a collection of feathers and found objects that I made in addition to the daily collections for my jars.

After much playing, exploring and experimenting, I have decided that I love making small paintings, drawings and studies.  The reason for this is simple.  I only have small amounts of time in which to paint and draw, and it is immensely satisfying to make a small finished painting rather than to work for months on a large one in small bursts.  I can stay focused on a small image and paint enough individual images over two or three months to make one large (120x120cm) sewn together painting, whereas I loose interest pretty quickly on a single image of the same size because my studio sessions are so random that it might be a week or more between visits and I find it difficult to sustain the same amount of enthusiasm over such a long period of time.  There is also a deep feeling of satisfaction in completing something rather than allowing it to drag on without any sense of an end.

With the help of a rather clever friend, I have found a way to hang these paintings, which involves just enough pain and obsession to be extremely satisfying.  So for now I will continue my small studies with much pleasure and small amounts of pain.

Collections

collection bags in progress

I am working on a new artwork.  It involves 21 jars that fit quite neatly in to an old wooden CD stand that became redundent several years ago.  It has been sitting in my studio - stand and empty jars -waiting for that moment of inspiration to hit, which it did when I realised we were spending three weeks of the school holidays in Port Hedland and three weeks equals twenty one days.  So I decided to make a collection bag for everyday that we are away.   

I have also spent quite some time thinking about the stand itself and what to do with that.  I finally decided to cover it in shipping charts of Port Hedland, over which I intend to paint images of knots.  It is quite a personal piece really.  As most of you are aware our family moved to Port Hedland for two years while my husband was training as a marine pilot.  I fell in love with the place, the landscape with its vast flat empty spaces, and the people.  Port Hedland is a community unlike any I have experienced before.  It is physically small with only one supermarket.  Everyone is within a five minuet drive of each other.  Families are largely based on a traditional model where the husband leaves for work every morning and the wife looks after the children and house.  Many morning exercise groups have sprung from a casual chat at drop off time and resulted in a daily workout.  Although this town is predominantly transitory everybody knows someone.  Even now, some two years after leaving, I can still walk into the supermarket and bump in to people I know, quite unlike home where there are five supermarkets and a remote chance of seeing anyone you know.

So the artwork relates to my personal connection to this town.  The shipping charts are the ones that Nath studied in the first weeks of his training and have always been related to him and his career.  The jars will reflect the daily happenings of our three weeks here.  It will reflect the colours, flora and quirks of Hedland. The knots were something I re-learned while I was sailing.  Knots are integral to sailing, even now on the giant Ore tankers, the ships are still tied to the berth.  They remind me of my time in Guides, where I learned to tie knots and make various shelving wracks and wash basin stands when camping.  They also have a literal meaning in 'the ties that bind'.  I still love this town and the people in it.  I love the landscape and the colours of sunrise and sunset, and I love beaches with their reefs and turtles and tiny little treasures.  

I am looking forward to returning to my studio, however to continue working on this latest project.  

Oil

The above are details of the painting I have started in oil based on a series of photos I took at Rye back beach one gloriously sunny, windy day.

There is a lot in that sentence I feel I need to explain.  Oil?  Yes.  Unfortunately I am at a loss to recall how it came that my dear friend Jackie sent me a link to Open Water Paintings by Ran Ortner, a man I have never heard of before.  Even now just looking through them on his website almost makes me want to cry.  They are enormous, immersive paintings of light on white washed water.  They are emotional, compelling living, breathing organisms...okay, maybe that is going a little too far, but they sparked in me a memory of painting waves from surf magazines.  These vast tributes to light and water compelled me to paint my own water paintings again.  But where to begin?

Initially I returned to the original source material, the surf magazine.  My favourite images are those from beneath the water looking up.  I have always loved that view - strictly photographic.  I should confess up front that I have a healthy respect for the sea and the multitudes of creatures that live in it.  I have been fascinated with the underwater world for decades, admiring it from the safety of the couch. When I was younger it was nothing for me to swim out past the breakers of surf beaches.  Now I am comforted just by sitting on sand and painting.  So I decided, I live ten minuets from a surf beach, I should go and take my own photographs and paint from them.  

Oil.  Oil is not acrylic.  Oil is malleable and translucent.  Oil can be painted with the hand or thickly with a brush or palette knife.  Gesture, energy, light, movement.  These are all qualities reflected by water that I just do not believe I can achieve with acrylic, not on a larger scale anyway.  For some time now I have wanted to capture the energy of the land, not merely replicate it.  I think this occurs within the first five minuets of the plein air painting, only I never stop there.  I refine until it looks more like someone has pushed the pause button.  

It has been ten years since I have used oil, and longer since painting waves, and I have to admit it has been a pleasure to reacquaint myself with this old friend.  Should I manage to wrangle something worthy from the oil on canvas, I will be sure to share it with you.

Please check out this website

http://www.ranortner.com/#!/portfolio/paintings//1

The Fraud Police

The Heads 2015, acrylic on linen

In her book 'The Art of Asking or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help', Amanda Palmer describes the Fraud Police.

“The Fraud Police are the imaginary, terrifying force of 'real' grown-ups who you believe - at some subconscious level - are going to come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, saying:
We've been watching you, and we have evidence that you have NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE DOING. You stand accused of the crime of completely winging it, you are guilty of making shit up as you go along, you do not actually deserve your job, we are taking everything away and we are TELLING EVERYBODY.”

Only I do not believe them at some subconscious level, I know they are real.  They are the judges, the board, the critics, the public, the galleries, the curators, every person who looks at my art work and they are all thinking the same thing.  I know this from the volume of 'Unfortunately' letters and emails I receive.

I have just entered this reworked painting of the entrance of Port Phillip Bay known as 'The Heads', in the Paddington Art Prize.  Thus on Thursday when the short list is announced I expect to hear...nothing.  It is true, as stated in the 2015 Entry Terms and Conditions 18. SELECTED APPLICANTS ONLY will be notified, sparing the rest of us the indignity of yet another 'Unfortunately'.

The Mornington Peninsula Regional Gallery are facilitating a symposium on this very topic, how do we judge art?  Do the judges of art exhibitions always get it right?  How does it feel to be refused today and can an artist survive outside the mainstream?  Because of course the judging of any work of art; painting, dance, performance, music, film, writing is all based on one persons opinion.  Actually, that's not entirely true.  Most art competitions comprise of three judges, still all with their own prejudices and opinions.  

And then you have to ask yourself, how many times do you have to be rejected before you either start listening or start believing?  I have never had gallery representation, and not from want of trying.  But I have reached a point where I just do not care anymore, and make work for myself, essentially.  I believe I have mentioned before that I refused to enter any competition for a period of many years.  It became pointless.  Now I have a new attitude, to once again throw everything out there and see what sticks.  I have such low expectations of my own work, hence for me the Fraud Police are alive and well and actively patrolling my area.

http://mprg.mornpen.vic.gov.au/EVENTS/How_do_we_judge_art_Success_rejection_scandal

Toorak Village Art Walk

Cove 36x36cm acrylic and cotton on canvas

Inlet 36x36cm acrylic and cotton on canvas

Reef 36x36cm acrylic and cotton on canvas

I have just entered these in the Toorak Village Art Walk, which is not a competition, but an annual event held by the Toorak Village Traders Association.  Artists are invited to submit three artworks to be exhibited in the shop front windows in Toorak Village.  What an opportunity.

The three images I selected are from a series of five I made based on a recent family holiday to Port Douglas.  They are painted strips of canvas, which I have sewn together to evoke a landscape.  Each piece took me roughly a day to sew.  I did this sitting on a cushion on the floor of my icebox (read studio).  My hands were red from cold and I believe I nearly froze to the floor.  By the time I had finished making these, Port Douglas was a distant memory.

The Toorak Village Art Walk will run for four weeks from Monday 19 October until Sunday 15 November.

http://www.toorakvillage.com.au/index.php?page=artwalk 

Spy Sea

Spy Sea 2015 41x21x5.5cm wood, acrylic, glass, plastic and found objects

I have had my work selected for the Aikenhead Centre for Medical Discovery (ACMD) Acquisitive Art Prize, which responds to the theme Art in Science, Science in Art.  There are a few exciting points related to this information.  Firstly, the work is three dimensional or relief.  It will still be hung on a wall but it is the first time I have ever entered a sculptural work in an art competition.  Secondly, it is a science based art prize.  I have an interest in natural history, geology, cartography and hydrology.  Mostly I feel like I skim the surface without delving into anything of great worth, but this provides a starting point for further research and discoveries.

The statement I wrote for Spy Sea described my fascination with, and exploration of, classification systems, presentation methods of natural history collections and a somewhat romantic notion of the naturalist as a collector, explorer and documenter, scouring the natural world engaged in the pursuit of scientific research.  My husband engaged in his own scientific scouring, discovering the spice rack in the front window of an op shop.  The objects themselves are from my collection found along shorelines from Port Hedland, Merimbula, Portsea and Flinders, hence the name Spy Sea.  They span a twenty year (probably more) period of collecting.

I began placing found objects in glass jars in my third year of bachelor studies, sometime back in the early 90's.  It was also a time when cameras took rolls of film and you had to take them to a shop to be processed.  I took panoramic photographs of landscapes (not on a panoramic setting because the camera back then did not have such a thing), but stood in the one spot and took twenty photographs, that when printed could be placed together, David Hockney style, to reveal the panorama.  In addition I also collected whatever objects were lying on the ground around me.  They might include plastic, wrappers and bottle tops from inner Melbourne, or shells, seaweed and fishing line from the beach suburbs.  These objects were placed in jars, which then included a label observing the date and location.

That is as far a that project went.  I never presented it for assessment or even discussed it with any of my lecturers.  It was the presentation of such items that I was unable to resolve in my own mind (having not discussed it with anyone).  I still own many of the jars, and now their labels look the way I intended them to some time in the early 90's.

I have found my work tends to be cyclical.  Ideas and themes re present themselves a decade (or two) later.  Anyway, I am very excited at having an object based work selected for a science prize and look forward to seeing it on the walls of St Vincent's Hospital.

David Hockney: Place Furtstenberg#1 Paris August 7-9 1985

DaDa

DDavid

Damsel

Ella Kelley 15.5x15.5cm pencil, acrylic, paper and ink on paper

Siobhan Kelley 15.5x15.5 acrylic, pencil, paper on canvas

Charlie Kelley 15.5x15.5 acrylic, pencil and paper on paper

Quite some time back, around March, I asked my sister what she would like for her birthday.  "A painting" was the reply, "A painting by you or Ella or Charlie or all three".  Oh, is that all? So I made the decision the painting would be by all three of us, although I was unsure how to create such a masterpiece.  My original thought was canvas.  Something substantial, something compelling, something worthy of hanging on a wall.  My son wanted to paint a pink and purple unicorn.  He borrowed Ella's pink and purple pillow pet unicorn for kinder.  It travelled to kinder in the front seat of the car.  For whatever reason he became quite fixated on painting the pink and purple unicorn in the front seat of the car.  The months rolled by and we found ourselves in May with only a pink and purple unicorn and little else.  Ella and I could only wonder at what we were going to produce to match Charlie's vision.

It was the school holidays.  I was working on a painting for the onefourfour April theme 'Transform'.  I had already made a painting, a collage of photocopied damselflies and dragonflies in nymph and adult stages pasted on layers of text and acrylic paint to produce a shallow perspective.  I had used these images more than twenty years ago when I was in the second year of my Bachelor of Fine Art studies at university.  Later, I made the decision to repeat the same image on paper but draw the insects instead.  So, when Charlie and Ella arrived in my studio I had squares of paper drawn up, photocopies and paint.  I left them to do the rest.

I have to admit I was surprised at how well the three paintings worked together. The red acts as an anchor for Ella and Charlie's pieces, while the green manages to unite all three paintings.  I had it framed with a teal green mount and a white frame.  When I gave it to my sister she became quite emotional.  I guess that means she thought it wall worthy.

Damsel 70x33cm mixed media 

Chance

Fence Sitter 26.5x60.5cm acrylic and paper on wood

alpaca wool

Chance is a wonderful thing.  I am by habit a creature of routine, but I often wish that I could live with more spontaneity in my life.  I remember a time, long before husbands and children, when I would wake in the morning and simply do what I felt like at that time.  I am quite sure those days will return to me, but for now I am strictly routine.

This is a round-a-bout way of explaining how I came in to possession of the gorgeously warm alpaca caplet - for want of another description - that I now own.  It occurred one afternoon in the playground at school.  There is a half hour time lapse between kinder pick up and the primary school bell, in which time parents with older children assemble around the playground and stare in disbelief at the amount of energy their four year olds still have at the end of the day.  This is where I met Alex.  Both of our boys are in the same kinder room, and as they played on the slide together, it seemed only natural to say hello.  We soon discovered that although we come from vastly different backgrounds (engineering/ art) that we both have a creative soul in common.  Alex knits and creates her own one off pieces,  some of which are for sale in boutique shops in Mount Eliza and Mordialloc.  

It was Alex who suggested that we swap our artistic wares.  We discussed our progress each afteroon in the playground.  She brought her knitting to school pick ups and I showed her the photos I had taken of my days progression.  Our ideas developed and changed, and by the end of the project we were both feeling apprehensive about revealing the work to one another.  It is always difficult when making a work for someone.  They have expectations, you have artistic vision.  There is also a desire for perfection in the work.  I think this is because it not only reflects yourself, but your regard for the other person.  

Needless to say we were both absolutely thrilled with the outcome.  Thanks for the inspiration Alex.

Nostalgia is not a dirty word.

Theme: Dreamworld 

-scape, photographs, paper on paper  6x6" 2015

Theme: Connection

Air Earth acrylic, pen on paper 6x6" 2015

I have become part of a group of twelve female artists titled onefourfour.  The group, (consisting of Sue Beyer, Tracie Grimwood, Julie Keating, Kara Rasmanis, Denise Reichenbach, Michelle Sanger, Sophie Towers, Amanda Van Gils, Irene Wellem, Shona Wilson and myself) has been organised by the very talented and equally lovely Ilona Nelson.  Each month one of the artists nominates a theme.  Everyone then has a month to produce an artwork in any medium based on that theme. According to Ms Nelson, "It is meant to be a fun project to encourage you to experiment and keep working". And it is just that.  I joined the group three months late, after one of the artists withdrew.  This provided me with the overwhelming task of producing three artworks for January - March, (dreamworld, diverge and connection) and then days later I was sent the theme for April (transform).  Thankfully I have been asked to choose the theme for May, which allows me an extra few weeks to plan and make.

Within these guidelines I have set some of my own parameters.  To make each artwork an individual.  Although when I compare the two images above I already feel that I have failed that goal.  They both contain a certain nostalgia.  They both display an atmosphere of space and distance.  They both have a horizon line, and to me they both present what I can only cringingly describe as, an inner peace.  Nostalgia.  

I was accused of committing such a crime in Post Grad.  It was frowned upon by certain members of staff to create anything of nostalgia, remotely nostalgic, or with any sentimentality.  Until  I looked at both images together I had not realised it was lurking.  I am currently working on the next two pieces, both of which are on canvas, one of which I am certain will fall in to the 'N' category again.  And so be it I say.  It will be interesting to see the twelve completed images together and to note the similarities and differences.  Now I am sounding like a post grad student.

http://onefourfour.org/

Creative arty things

Colour matching the Brisbane River

I own a book titled 'I'd Rather Be In The Studio'.  It describes itself as 'The Artist's No-Excuse Guide to Self-Promotion'.  It encourages you to explore chapters such as defining success, organising information, the power of your artists statement, creating a portfolio to impress people and how to amplify your online presence with social media.  As I said, I own this book.  I have even picked it up and opened it.  Hell, I've even read some of it.  It is full of fabulous positive methods of going out there (beyond the studio) and selling your art.  I often read it in bed at night and go to sleep full self confidence, and good vibes full of great ideas.  Then I wake up in the morning and beat (after dropping Ella and Charlie at school, shopping, buying petrol, swimming lessons, cooking, appointments...whatever else takes up my time) a hasty retreat straight back to the studio.  It is sanctuary, safety from the outside world and somewhere I can be in my creative zone, that currently feels more like a beaten up dog kennel than a palatial retreat for an uninterrupted thought process.

So, if you are wondering how the Siobhan Kelley art market is going...umm.  What I have done is finally unpack some canvases that I sent to Port Hedland three years ago and never unpacked.  That was confusing.  I discovered I owned six small square canvases that were completely blank.  Nothing drawn up, still wrapped in the same bubble wrap they left in.  Why do I own these?  Then weeks later I opened my visual diary, which also has not seen the light of day for an eternity, and I laughed out loud.  There was the plans for a painting incorporating six small canvases 'The Tropic of Capricorn', which spans the invisible line on maps through the three states it passes.  Two canvases for each state.  

I had thought I had moved on from the map paintings, but also packaged in these boxes were the beginning of 'Flow', a painting I had intended to enter in the Wynne.  It also consists of six square canvases - slightly larger than the unpainted ones.  This painting depicts a map of each capital city that has a river flowing through it.  The river is painted in pale blue with a darker blue outline and writing.  The idea is to join the rivers to produce one long flowing river.  Each canvas would be hung at different heights, depending on where the river ends and begins on each canvas.  It has been three years since I last touched any of those canvases, and do you know, I still like the painting enough to want to see it completed.  I actually still have a box with four containers of paint that I was using three years ago.  Naturally, most of it has dried up, so I spent an hour yesterday mixing new containers of paint with the thought that I will continue to work on this painting until its completion.  

I do not have it in me to sell art.  I hate selling art, I would rather give it away.  I would much rather be in my studio than any other place on earth...maybe.  I would much rather vacate my brain of all the useless information it has floating in it in order to fill it with deeply contemplated creative arty things.  Do you know something.  I think I will do just that.  Except for the bit about vacating all useless things.  Unfortunately I still need to know when the shoe sales are on.

Sales pitch

East Cape, acrylic on canvas board, 12.5x18cm

Sailors Grave, acrylic on canvas board, 12.5x18cm

Pearl Point, acrylic on canvas board, 12.5x18cm

Where to begin?  My mind is scatty and all over the place.  I have come to the realisation that in order to make more art work I need to make some money.  This is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do.  The thought of knocking on cafe, gallery, real estate and home wares shops makes me feel nervous, self conscious and sick to my stomach.  I dread it and yet it is the only way I can put my paintings out there on mass for the public to see at relatively no expense to myself.  I have been talking to my husband Nathan about this and am considering employing him to be my spokes person, at some considerable expense to myself.

These little landscapes on canvas board are what I am considering selling.  Fortunately this is something I love doing, small plein air paintings.  And the more I paint, the more competent I feel I become.  Just like knocking on doors no doubt.  The above paintings I had the pleasure of making while on a week long holiday at Cape Conran in far east Gippsland.  For two hours a day I sat on a beach and painted and despite some inclement weather, it was the most content I have been on a holiday. 

The idea is to frame these little gems myself and offer a small group to a premises that will allow me to hang them with the hope that if priced correctly, they might sell.  I call this bread and butter.  What I really want to do is paint leaves and feathers by the hundreds, but in order to do so I require materials (canvas), which is costly and as I have no income it makes it difficult to justify buying anything.

I am vaguely working towards an exhibition, which also incurs costs and, in my experience, results in negative sales.  For me art has never been about the money, it has always been about the making.  However it has come to a point where I need to start selling in order to pursue the ideas drifting around in my head.  So for now I guess I continue painting small landscapes, figure out a way to frame them and then...gulp...hit the streets.