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.

Girls can do anything

 On location at Newport Lakes Park, Newport.

Ilona Nelson at he conclusion of her performance piece.

When I was in high school our 'career councillor' gave us stickers that said "Boronia High School girls can do anything".  I was in year ten and it was a time when girls were being encouraged to consider careers in the male dominated trades and continue to study the less popular subjects like science and maths.  Of course I chose none of the above, but it was the beginning of a new attitude towards women and careers.  What the governments, schools and career councillors failed to impart on us however, was that girls can not do everything.  

Speculating from my own view point, I wonder whether this push to place more women on career paths within the workforce resulted in many of us not conceiving until much later in our lives while we pursued progress and promotions.  Then we did marry and had families and returned to work as soon as we possibly could, because hey fellas, us girls can do not only anything, but everything.  Which may be the case for the first years of your child, but eventually the dream of being Wonder Woman Super Mum would hit the invisible wall.  Suddenly, for the first time, compromise and concession lead to confusion about identity and idealism.  Suddenly those bawdy broads who could do anything were thrust back in to their tradition roles of being mother and wife, the very kryptonite we had all been desperate to avoid.  

Which brings me to Newport Lakes Park last week.  My daughter and I participated in a performance piece by local artist Ilona Nelson for her upcoming exhibition 'This Place'.  Ilona's work explores the very reality that most mothers, and artists in particular, encounter when a child's survival depends on you and your art studio is left for the spiders to make cobwebs in.  For the performance piece we were asked to wear silky dressing gowns, reminiscent of the 1950s, and adorn her in items such as texta colour, water, sand, oats feathers, stickers and my daughters favourite, tinned spaghetti which Ella delicately painted over Ilonas arms.

The performance concluded with Ilona collapsing into the grass.  For me, this performance was about the burden of motherhood and all of those surprisingly light and unexpected items that piled upon you only weigh you down.   My daughter, who is now eight, kept asking questions as to why we were wearing these gowns and what we were doing.  Trying to explain to an eight year old why I would rather be painting than looking after her is not an easy thing, and inevitably leads to the other culprit I have not discussed with you today, guilt.

"This Place aims to break the barriers of the white cube, create interactive art in a family friendly space and, perhaps most importantly, prompt honest conversations about the complexities of parenthood".  Art Almanac Dec/Jan 2014-15.

'This Place' is showing at Town Hall Gallery in Hawthorn from January 10 to February 22.

http://www.ilonanelson.com/

What difference does it make?

'Oh The Devil Will Find Work For Idle Hands To Do' 1992 acrylic and cardboard on board.

'I Stole And Then I Lied Just Because You Asked Me To' 1992 acrylic, cardboard and paper on board.

Welcome to my youth and the beginnings of my painting career.  You may recall me telling you about  my love of the graphic and Pop Art?  Well no one spoke to these sensibilities quite like Jasper Johns.  I began painting and drawing American flags and targets the year I decided graphic communication was not the career path for me.  

The titles of these works refer to The Smiths song 'What Difference Does It Make?', the lyrics of which I later scratched in to another canvas with a safety pin.  It caused me so much pain I stuck and icy pole stick to my finger just to finish the work.  Now that is suffering for your art.  Actually not sticking the icy pole stick to my finger would have been closer to suffering for my art.  I was in fact suffering from a broken heart and found solace in wise and upbeat lyrics of The Smiths, and anyone who cares to contradict me surely has not suffered a heart as broken as mine.

These paintings have been photographed ''wrapped in plastic'' (Twin Peaks anyone?)  I love the effect.  They were recently unearthed from the cubby house in the back yard of my parents house.  The same cubby house that at least two brush tail possums have called home for the past past million years.  As far as the possums go, they only tried to eat one painting.  Actually it was the pine wood stretcher they either used as a scratching post or a toothbrush rather than the canvas.  One canvas we found had disintegrated so badly there was barely anything left of it.  The rest of the plastic covered paintings had a pleasant aroma of shellac and possum piss.  A smell that would turn even a true nature enthusiast.

While the rest of my angsty Smiths/ Johns ridden youth were duly photographed before hitting the scrap heap, these two paintings I kept for posterity.  They have since been relocated to the relative safety of the garage, where they are now at the mercy of two hatch backs and my parents driving ability.