Possibilities

acrylic on paper

I have started a new body of work.  I am painting leaves on paper, water colour style only it's acrylic and much thicker, more like a gouache I guess.  Although the painting requires quite intense periods of concentration, I am enjoying working on a much smaller scale.  I am working on paper 20cmx40cm, which I have ruled into four panels, each containing a painting of a single leaf.  The idea at present is to paint roughly ninety-six individual leaves, cut each panel in to a separate piece and the sew them all together.  Why?  It's a fair question.  I want to present work that examines the notion of collecting and the obsessiveness of the collector.  I believe for the art works that I am proposing regarding the collection, mass is an important element.  I also want a response from the viewer along the lines of 'that is just crazy'.  I want to produce labour intensive works.  And while they are labour intensive as a whole, as an individual each leaf takes me about an hour to paint, which is great when you are time poor in the studio.

The collecting of the leaves has included my children who help me find them on my studio days.  They understand the type of leaf I like to paint, well seven year old Ella does at least, she has found some great leaves.  Three year old Charlie however finds mostly dry leaves that have already lost their lustre.    I tend not to paint his leaves, I prefer them brightly coloured with a waxy, flexible quality to them.

As I mentioned, the plan is to cut each panel and sew them together, but I am beginning to consider other possibilities for display.  Having said that I think I will finish this piece as intended and make another work to be displayed in another manner.

Think

My Pilbara collection January 2014.

I have been working, collecting, sewing, painting and thinking.  I often find thinking a difficult thing to do.  Not the day to day thinking of who does what today, where do I have to be and when, and most importantly, what is for dinner.  No I am talking about deep, contemplative thinking, the kind you do on your own in a quiet space.  Not the kind you do on your feet in a house of noise and chaos.  

Unfortunately my studio days are non consecutive and I find that the things I thought on one day may have disappeared entirely by the next studio visit, only to be rediscovered several days (maybe weeks) later.  The other thing about thinking is that it has to be quality thoughts.  Driving, for example, often provides a quiet time for contemplation, however I find myself 'vaguing out' and thinking about how dry the grass is, or the formation of the clouds, or the colour of the sky.  All very romantic, not very helpful when deciphering Jean Baudrillard's 'The Cultures of Collecting' and how any of it relates to my work...or doesn't.

So rather than over thinking, which is easily done, I opt for the more serene thought pattern of the grass, the clouds and the sky.  Sometimes it is easier to just drift rather than set a course.  Sometimes that is where the best ideas are found.

Studio

Studio desk

Studio shelving with 'Flock'

I am finding this increasingly difficult.  As you may have noticed, but probably didn't, I missed the December edition of my blog.  It was close.  I actually went so far as to open the page, upload an image and begin typing, but found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what I was typing and eventually gave up.  That said, I have been extremely pro-active in the studio.  Yes, I now have a studio fully set up and equipped and I have to say it is the most wonderful thing to have a space of my own where I can work without distraction, where I can put something down for the day rather than pack it away and mostly wonderfully of all I finally have a place where my mind can wander freely.  I have a place I can switch off and switch over to think about things other than washing and cooking and cleaning and ironing and what everyone is going to eat for lunch.  My studio provides sanctuary, pure indulgent escape, something I have craved for years.

So with my new found freedom an emergence of new ideas has erupted.  I am finding it increasingly interesting the way my ideas are unravelling themselves.  Usually when I start a painting I have a very firm idea of what the finished work will look like.  However, at present I find myself viewing my work from the periphery.  I catch a glimpse, but if I turn to look it vanishes.  I have vague ideas, I have vast collections, I have no idea, I still have vast collections.  I have found my work to be cyclical in that I will pursue one line of inquiry for years until I it runs its course or I run out of momentum.  In this case my last few paintings began a line of inquiry that lead to a logic that required change - of subject matter, of materials, of investigation.

Chance played a wonderfully intervening role in providing me with an idea toyed with but not explored which I began some ten years ago and had since forgotten.  I have found it has taken on a life of its own, yet I only have parts, a glimpse and not the whole picture.  I don't think this is a bad thing, rather I am excited by the possibility of discovery and I am interested to see how the ideas unveil themselves and how the work will progress.  I am in no hurry for the work to be completed, preferring it to take its natural course.  I must say it is a relief after becoming so meticulous about the previous paintings to relax a little and allow the natural flow of creative thought take its course.

Collect, catalogue, classify

Canvas, acrylic, oil, feathers, cotton.

While unpacking boxes containing decades of collected material can be a laborious dust filled task, it was with unexpected pleasure that I rediscovered some little treasures including this one.  I don't recall making it but I know it was in my second year of post grad while studying for my MVA (Master of Visual Arts) at VCA (Victorian College of the Arts).  It is a collection of feathers that have been sewn and painted on to small strips of canvas, which in turn have been sewn together.  I am thinking of adding to it, making it a quite large piece.

This little treasure I have labeled 'Flock' taps in to something I have been thinking about for a while now, that is systems of classification and mans desire to create order and clarity in nature.  I notice that even the humble garden is something that must be orderly, clipped and contained.  I like that man has to document, collect and classify everything in his world and beyond in order for him to understand his position in it.  Of course most of these concepts are relatively new, within the last couple of centuries.  Once man rejected God as the creator of life on earth he looked at the earth itself and discovered science.  This is probably an overly simplistic version of events, but I am interested in that period of change and discovery where man stopped looking to the heavens and began to note the world in which  he lived.

All of this thinking has lead me to examine my own collections and systems of classification and how I might go about my own analysis of them.  Meanwhile I am still in the process of sorting through the collections and wondering exactly how sort, document, categorise and store them.

Positive Procrastination

Tootgarook studio

Well, we are back 'home' on the Mornington Peninsula just south of Melbourne.  This is called procrastination.  I took this photo this morning, and rather than go and attack and sort and record and organise, I am sitting here blogging under the pretence of doing something.  The large paintings in the back left are from my last exhibition three years ago.  The large flat boxes and two large bubble wrapped paintings on the right arrived from Port Hedland about a month ago.  The rest of the work has been residing on level 31 of the Human Services building in Bourke Street, Melbourne for the past 10...12 years.  The Department of Human Services is relocating to the 26th floor and no longer requires the services of my paintings, some of which date back to 1995, my last year as an undergraduate at university.

So now I am waiting for the rain and the wind to stop so I can set up the easel in the back yard and photograph the decades of work.  I am waiting for a set of bookshelves to arrive so I can unpack the 10 or 12 boxes, currently housed in the spare room, full of magazine subscriptions and catalogues of inspiration.  And I am waiting for incentive to kick in.  

I found this in The Good Weekend on Saturday and I am going to quote it verbatim.  

POSITIVE PROCRASTINATION

People who like to put stuff off need feel guilty no longer.  Turns out procrastination can be put to good use: to get things done other than the task you are putting off.  Scientists reason that procrastinators rarely do nothing, so they can still be productive if they do (useful) stuff when they're avoiding doing other stuff.

So if the scientists agree, and I rationalise that what I am doing is useful, I really don't need to sort this studio out for a few more weeks yet.

Hedland Art Awards 2013

'Transit' at the Hedland Art Awards 2013

Well, here she is, Transit at her place of rest in Port Hedland's Courthouse Gallery.  I have to admit to being pleasantly surprised by how finished the painting looked, considering I spent another four hours painting on the day I had to drop her off at the gallery.  For me what was both surprising and delightful  was the luminescence of the work, an etherial quality I had not anticipated.  I'm not sure whether it was the lighting, the two litres of white I mixed with my colours or the thousands of variations of colour.  Maybe it was a combination, but it was the most proud I have felt about a painting and it is the first time I have seen my work in a group show where it seemed to belong.  

The overall show is one of the best I have seen in the gallery.  There is a clarity to it, a sense of place, a very distinct place.  There is an intensity of colour and a sense of quiet energy within the works that I have found unique to the Pilbara, yet the gallery maintains a calm that allows the viewer to engage with each piece individually.  

It is with great disappointment that I have to depart the Pilbara.  It will be a place that I will continually return to.  I will be interested to see how my experience translates in future works and how time and memory play out against each other in the following years.

Farewell dear Pilbara.  It has been a pleasure to know you.

Cyclone Tracy

I have just found this wonderful image painted by Rover Thomas, titled 'Cyclone Tracy' 1991.  The image depicts a black void as the cyclone gaining intensity as it makes its way towards Darwin and the resulting winds kicking up the red dust, which feed into the void.  Cyclone Tracy is both sophisticated and simple.  The black void allows for quiet contemplation of the wake of the devastating and destructive winds and emphasises the scale of the event that occurred.

This is what a cyclone painting should look like, something organic, imposing and encompassing.  It is not green.  Nor is it a literal reproduction of a computer modelling system.  It is time for me to move away from the literal and in to something much more intuitive.  I am in immense anticipation of once again having a studio in which to spread out and allow ideas and concepts to ferment, develop and grow without having to pack them away every afternoon.  Rather it is time to pack away the projector and allow the imagination to run rampant.

http://nga.gov.au/federation/Detail.cfm?WorkID=148012