Michelle Knowles

The poetry of light...

2012-02-11T10:22:00.001+10:00

I hear the wind among the trees

Playing celestial symphonies;

I see the branches downward bent,

Like keys of some great instrument.

And over me unrolls on high

The splendid scenery of the sky,

Where through a sapphire sea the sun

Sails like a golden galleon.

~ From 'A Day of Sunshine', Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

I've been playing with the most beautiful and elusive element, trying to capture it's fleeting presence. Light. It's all a game of hide and seek, chasing down those perfect, precious, light-filled moments. Sunbeams radiate through leaves and hit the lens, creating glinting, glimmering flares in red and blue. They are mischievous and won't easily be coaxed into stillness.

The creek is alive of late. Summer rains have forced it to swell and it rushes with conviction towards its final destination. The banks are lush and green, overflowing with waxy grasses and dense undergrowth. It is soggy and my shoes squelch in the sticky grey mud.

Dusk is the best time of day for creek wanderings. It is cool - the humidity has escaped from under the trees. Shadows create dark caves of mystery and the water glistens in the soft afternoon light. I pass few people. Most are in their homes settling in for the evening. I peer into their windows on my walk home. I can see their tv's blaring, smell their dinner preparing on the stove. This is all part of the journey, a simple daily ritual intended to exercise my body, but which more importantly brings great peace to my mind.

Around here...

2012-02-09T11:52:00.000+10:00

It's all a little bit lovely around here lately. Well, that's not entirely true. The moments where I'm not violently ill (damn you tasty nasty food!), cursing the universe, or generally being an obnoxious prat are lovely. Yes. Mostly it's lovely. Sometimes it's not. But I don't think one can hope for better than that.

Weeks of monsoonal rain have given way to bright sunny days with afternoon storms. It's perfectly summery. When not wandering down by the creek I've been embroidering, watching documentaries online and spending time in the kitchen experimenting with food - not always successfully mind you. I'm thinking of doing a course in ceramics so that I can learn a new skill. But it's expensive and as I'm determined to get to Antarctica next year I think I'll have to stick to polymer clay. Never mind. I'm sure that the icebergs will be worth it.

This week I set myself a challenge to photograph all of the work sitting around my studio that hasn't seen the light of day yet. Strange sculptures and objects, some over 12 months old, that need to be documented. I'm thinking that a big website overhaul is due right about now too. Apart from that it's all about going with the flow, relaxing into the tempo and gliding softy across that rainbow lake called life.

We miss you magic land!

2012-02-05T09:38:00.000+10:00

Feast your eyes upon this! What sugary, pastel sweetness could this be? Why, it's the We miss you magic land! exhibition at GOMA by Perth based collaborators Pip an Pop. This installation has major WOW factor. It's a miniature psychedelic wonderland made for marvelling at. On entering the large room that houses the installation an usher explains that the work is not to be touched. But oh, it just begs for it! It's much like that scene from Willy Wonka. You know the one where the kids go sick eating all the high calorie sweeties that make up the candy forest? It's a funny thing, but the desire to run my fingers through the granular mandalas and pick apart the lolly-like baubles was so strong. I'm not sure where that desire comes from. Is it plain old curiosity or a more sinister craving to destroy and shake up the complete stillness of the vitrines? In any case, my obedient side won over and I didn't lay a finger upon the magic land. Nope.

We played 'spot the teeny weeny animals'...

The snow fox was as big as the moose. This bothered me, though I'm not sure why. Anything is possible in Magic Land right?

Check out the abundance of detail! I mean, this thing must have taken a phenomenal amount of work to complete. I do admire handcrafted detail. An old friend used to say "God is in the details' an awful lot. I think that she was right. There is something awe inspiring about all the little things that make up a whole. Micro worlds inside a macro cosmos.

The whole thing reminded me of those model trains that travel through miniature villages. It also triggered a memory of this little place called Mole Hill in Tasmania where somebody had spent an inordinate amount of time building a tiny village inhabited by moles that wore clothes and ran stores . Outsider art at its finest. The installation was part of the children's art centre at GOMA, so I don't know how much serious critical attention this work will get. I'd love to read an article on this work written by a critic. Something long, wordy and in-depth that draws on critical theory and art history. Because whilst I see this as somewhat saccharine, sugary sweet, and easy to consume, it has to be asked why this synthetic, pop, fluorescent mini world is so appealing. Is this our idea of utopia? Or does it simply offer us refuge from the dystopia that we currently find ourselves in? Briefly, at least.

Whatever the case, if you can't marvel at Magic Land, you're probably one tough, dry cookie. :P

You can view the installation pictures HERE!

Polka dots, infinity and beyond...

2012-02-04T20:48:00.000+10:00

Today we went to see the Yayoi Kusama exhibition at GOMA. I'm a bit of a sucker for the work of Yayoi. It may appear boisterous and joyful but there's a very dark and serious undertone to the work which is rooted in the most basic and gravest of human fears - that of nonexistence. Whilst completing my BFA I would try to pick assignment topics that would allow me to incorporate her work into my writing. I dug up as much information on Kusama as I could and have to admit to becoming infatuated with her life as much as her work. She is a myth-maker of epic proportions. I love that in a personality - the ability to frame and shape one's own personal story with little regard for actual history or fact. I find it impossible to separate Kusama from her work. In fact, I think that to try too would be to miss the point.

The Obliteration Room:

Paintings, flowers and infinity nets:

Inside a Yayoi sandwich:

Kusama Reading:

100 Days!!!

2012-02-01T17:57:00.000+10:00

Hooray for completing 100 days of my 365 days self portrait project!!! I've had trouble finding time every single day to do this so they aren't consecutive days. Still, I'm getting there. Only 265 more days to go. Good golly. At this rate I won't be finished until 2020. Slow and steady...

Warp and weft...

2012-01-31T11:31:00.000+10:00

It has been raining here for what feels like forever. Consistent heavy rain has been pounding our rooftops, filling our waterways and making everything damp and soggy. It's what you might call monsoonal. It's the kind of weather made for staying indoors, lighting candles and curling up with a good book. I did all of that, but the rain also sparked a desire to weave and knit - to turn my hand to something repetitious and tactile. So, being the inquisitive, flighty soul that I am I abandoned everything else I'd been working on and delved into the world of weaving head on! I started with a rag rug tutorial. I weaved and knotted that thing for two days straight and have a circle only a couple of feet wide. It's a repetitious process of knot and pull, knot and pull. The potential evident in such a process is limitless. I see big knotted mandalas in all the colours of the rainbow. Heavy, dense webs of recycled textiles adorned with tassels and exotic threads. I've been experimenting on smaller pieces, adding yarn and ribbons randomly, exploring the possibilities.

Ever since I can remember I have wanted to learn how to knit and crochet. Having no needles or hooks on which to start the procedure I embarked upon learning how to finger knit. It's so easy and once again, the potential is huge.

Then, in more random internet wanderings I came across a weaving exhibition. Some of the photos from the show displayed cardboard looms on which the public could weave their own works. In minutes I had constructed a crude loom (OK, pitifully crude) on which to test the potential of various textiles I had sitting around. A small sampler was born. It's remarkably hideous, but represents quite a few hours of work - all of which I enjoyed greatly.

All of this has led to the conclusion that my heart is truly in craft. The tactility of materials is something that first led me into art - the process of making something from random objects. It's all about the pure joy of creation, of sitting and occupying the mind with the hands' activities, of problem solving through intuition and touch. It is a highly sensual process, and one not without its frustrations. Once again I am drawn to exploring the intersection between art and craft (and indeed, if there even is one.). What does it mean to be an artist who crafts? Is there a distinction any more? What do these materials say? How can these 'craft' processes be manipulated in unexpected ways? I explore these questions in the 'doing', in the physical act of making.

Long live crazy crafts!

2012-01-28T08:08:00.000+10:00

I have a penchant for the sad and the useless (evidenced by my daily visit to sadanduseless.com). So, when I stumbled across the tutorial for this yarn dog, I had to drop everything I was doing and start making one for myself, immediately. I recall seeing yarn dogs like this made with synthetic wool in baby blue and pastel pink when I was a young girl - circa late 1970s/early 80s. If I remember correctly, this was around the same time that macrame owls and fibre optic lamps were popular. I'd watch G-Force, HR PufnStuf, and Banana Splits on the tele and ride the trip like only a tiny tot with an imagination active enough to believe in life-size psychedelic talking puppets can. Yarn dogs fascinated me then. Still do. Some things never change.

I didn't have enough balls of the one colour yarn to finish this little puppy so he's ended up a bit of a mutt. But that's ok, because his colour coordination is tops. I could have used twice as much yarn to really make this fella nice and dense, but alas, I ran out. Remember, there was no planning involved. I required instant gratification! Still, that's a really good tip for those who plan on chasing the dream and making a yarn dog of their own - don't underestimate how much yarn is required! Also, this dog takes quite a bit of time to make. I spent about 5 hours putting this one together and I probably should have made double the amount of rounds. I'll probably be quicker second time round though right? Yes, I will go there again. I'm convinced that I need to make one in fluoro pink and lime green.

Yarn dog tutorial

P.S. How perfect are those googly eyes? And, I'm not the only one, see?

Cocooning...

2012-01-27T19:06:00.001+10:00

More triangles. Painting and cutting paper scraps. Watching documentaries online and doodling in an oversized moleskine. Consistent heavy rain. Oppressive, low clouds shrouding the mountaintop. Creek walks between showers. 1970's craft tutorials on dreary, wet nights. Dreaming of Antarctica. Making it happen. Ignoring commitments because I still can. Sharing the couch with a sleepy old scrap cat. Eating bbq leftovers and home-made fries with mayonnaise.

Discoveries:

Augustina Woodgate - especially keen on this poetry bombing project and these objects.
Hilary Pecis - fantastic collage.
Meg and Iddie
Low Commitment Projects - this is so great!
More triangle art.

'Acknowledging the past' and 'fur, hair, scales and skin'

2012-01-25T20:19:00.000+10:00

Tomorrow, January 26th is Australia day. For many it's a day of national celebration and pride. But this country has a dark history which is often suppressed and hidden from the rest of the world, written out of history books and denied by a vast majority of this country's inhabitants. This day is also referred to as Invasion Day in acknowledgement of cultures that were raped, pillaged and massacred, used as slaves, stolen from their families and abused in the name of the crown.

So, I thought instead of a 'Happy Australia Day' celebratory post (it is odd to celebrate this day which is one of darkness for so many), I'd focus my attention on some of the creatures we share this great land with. Amazing creatures from the animal kingdom. Some we adore, some we fear, and others we merely tolerate. I'm not a great fan of the slithery kind, but respect their place and power. Taken on a visit to Australia Zoo over the weekend:

Aldabra Cadabra

2012-01-23T12:04:00.000+10:00

The Aldabra Giant Tortoise. What a glorious beast! I went to the zoo on the weekend and had the pleasure of spending some time with two lovely, gentle tortoises called Igloo and Goliath.

These amazing creatures are found in the Aldabra Atoll, a part of the Seychelle Islands. It is a UNESCO world heritage site and mostly untouched because of its extreme remoteness. There are over 100, 000 of these creatures existing in the wild. Hooray for remote and tricky island habitats! I couldn't imagine coming across a colony of these large reptiles. They're quite something to behold. I watched a burly, bearded, tattooed, biker-looking type of man become mesmerised by Igloo and Goliath. We shared eye contact and a smile.

You couldn't even imagine such a creature, really. They look as though they are from another time and another place. I love the way their skin wrinkles around the neck, and the geometric patterns on their shells are really beautiful - all in earthy, ochre, dust and mustard hues. Delicious creatures. Large prehistoric reptiles that plod slowly and stoically across the sandy earth of their island home.

Planet earth never ceases to amaze me.

Visual Provocateurs

2012-01-22T08:57:00.003+10:00

Check out this new project I've created in collaboration with Benjamin Clarkson, an artist I met at the Banff Centre in Canada last year:

Visual Provocateurs

Bookmark it and follow our progress!

Triangulation

2012-01-20T22:05:00.000+10:00

tri.an.gle

Noun:

1. a plane figure with three straight sides and three angles

2. a thing shaped like such a figure

Seeing triangles in everything I do. Beautiful angular geometry.

Type "sacred triangle" into google and this is what you might discover: The 'Sacred Triangle of all-inclusive Force'. A discourse on the "compassionate love of the solar lord" and his pursuit for perfection. That is a bloody fantastic article title. I have no idea what the page is about except that it's got something to do with 'esoteric philosophy.' Uh huh. The triangle is a source of great esoteric wisdom. Everyone knows that.

You'll also find a plethora of information about the sacred triangle (apparently), a dvd about David Bowie, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop. Actually, it sounds really interesting.

There are all manner of strange articles about the sacred triangle, ranging from the unexpected to the downright bizarre. I'm only interested because I've been seeing triangles in a lot of what I've been doing lately. My latest journal is full of them. I am attracted to both triangles and the three dimensional shapes that can be constructed from them. The pyramid is perhaps the most beautiful and mysterious three dimensional object on earth. Take these for a case in point:

See? Oooh, the intrigue! Here's some more evidence of my triangular obsession of late:

Art Lust: Sarah Cain

2012-01-17T13:33:00.000+10:00

Wandering the long, winding corridors of the interwebs, I happened across the work of Sarah Cain. She works both on paper and canvas, but also installs her work into the architecture of a space as seen in THIS exhibition. What first attracted me to her work was the use of colour and geometry. But on further inspection I found more to admire - the integration of natural materials, the unexpected juxtaposition of chaos and order and the contrast of gesture and control.

Her work can be found at this gallery, and also here and here.

Just as sure as all is one and one is two, 2007, Gouache, silver leaf, tempera, watercolor, beva, stick, bead, thread, pencil, matte medium, and ink on paper

74 1/4 x 52 x 2 3/4 inches188.6 x 132.1 x 7 cm

Future Perfect Tense Two, 2009
Acrylic, gouache, watercolor, feathers and gel medium on paper
19 3/8 x 11 x 1/2 inches

Alpha and the Moon Code

2012-01-16T22:01:00.001+10:00

Alpha and the Moon Code (Reverse Dissemination), 2012, Paint by numbers kit, acrylic paint on board.

The result of my Paint by Numbers experiment. Colour recalibration was required. As was a heightened determination to stay between the lines. I like this for several reasons. Not the least of them being that wolves epitomise the new age like no other animal, except maybe the dolphin. Yeah, the dolphin wins hands down, but wolves, well, they come a close second. New age wolf worship can be kind of strange. I've been to pagan festivals where people howl at the moon in an effort to tap into their inner wolf. Actually, it's not really that strange is it? People do far madder things every day.

The colours in this are a hideous combination, but I find that kind of alluring. What can I say? Green skies and black moons are just so far out man. I'd say that this was psychedelic if I meant it to be. But I didn't. Still, there was a method to my madness. I just don't feel like revealing it.

Discoveries:

Theresa Himmer - particularly love THIS work.
THIS blog.

Summer in the studio...

2012-01-11T10:05:00.000+10:00

Simplicity in the studio. Wrapping, weaving, repetition. I work automatically. Objects start to fill a corner of the room. Wood and synthetic yarn. The understated and the bold. I want these things to POP! I am relaxed in the studio, finding a rhythm in making. No longer seeking discomfort or pushing to find that place of uncertainty. It will find me eventually.

A lust for the written word has overcome me. I read when my fingers tire of their labour. I read in my air-conditioned bedroom to escape the heat. I read of psychotherapist families with a dysfunctional core, dead rock-stars and small country towns. I write notes in a moleskine journal.

Today I will get low-brow and engage in a guilty little pleasure. Instructional art kits - pegasus and wolves. These things really do excite me. I always fail to produce anything that resembles the finished cover image. This, of course, is part of the fun. I haven't done a paint by numbers since I was a kid (my lack of patience always led me to royally f*&k it up). I doubt I'll be any better at it now. I am determined to give it my all.

Discoveries:

Stefan Gross - Yeehah! Dig it.
Aleksandra Mir: The Seduction of Galileo Galilei and the website of Aleksandra Mir.

Tangled webs...

2012-01-09T11:16:00.003+10:00

Weaving webs with string and wool. Using up yesterday's trash. Testing my ingenuity through intuition and feel. Going with my gut. Ignoring my head. Dropping seed beads on polished timber floor boards and leaving them there. They stick to the soles of my feet.

Watching documentaries on dead artists and wondering what constitutes madness. Hiding from the heat in a blue bedroom. Dreaming I was in Wyoming with the horses and the craggy mountain-tops. Reading the last few pages of 'The Great Gatsby' and contemplating my likeness to the characters. Attempting to write lists, but doodling instead.

This is my Monday morning. The rest is yet to come.

P.S. Just watched this fabulous fashion promo video for Christophe Coppens over at KLV

The costumes, the sound, the kaleidoscope imagery - all brilliant. In fact, I've become a little sidetracked from my morning tasks by researching Christophe's work. Check out this catalogue of his artwork and couture.

A burst of colour...

2012-01-06T15:56:00.000+10:00

I start the year off in the studio with a burst of colour. Bright, fluoro shades against a crisp white background. Colour is once again my friend. Working on old ideas that have never been given a chance to be actualised. Painting taxidermy forms white and waiting days for the paint to dry. Tedious. Patience is not one of my virtues. Feeling clumsy but pushing through it. Tentative experimentation. How does one become fierce?

Discoveries:

Malin Gabriella Nordin
Mary Beth Edelson at Balice Hertling and Lewis HERE.
Angela Bulloch at Micheline Szwajcer HERE.
Tyler Mackie: Hearting Craft: A terrible website (it's not very pleasant to navigate) but there is some really interesting and beautiful work here. Tactile and playful, vibrant and uninhibited.

Closing the gap (year, that is)...

2012-01-03T21:21:00.001+10:00

Perhaps it is the same every year, but I’ve heard a lot of people expressing anguish about the year that has just passed. 2011 - now lost in history as a time that was. I however, will recall this past year with much fondness and probably a whole lot of nostalgia. 2011 was, for me, a year full of adventure and recuperation. It was a selfish time for me, but I achieved exactly what I was hoping to - that being the restoration of my mental health. For 18 months previous to 2011 I suffered a terrible and debilitating depression that swallowed me whole. It took everything I had within me to fight through it and present a normal, healthy face to the world. Sometimes I succeeded, but I suspect that mostly I failed. I’m still astounded that I managed to actually finish my studies during that time. I am too proud to fail, always have been. This is not a bad thing.

But yes, 2011, oh what a year! What a fabulous, nourishing, self-indulgent time of pleasure seeking, reigniting old passions and reconnecting authentically with those that I love. Oh, there were ups and downs, moments of regression, long stretches of solitude where I blocked the world out, and terrible bouts of pathetic self pity. But mostly it was filled with adventure, excitement, joy and laughter. It was punctuated by love. I’m so terribly corny and not too cool to admit it.

Here, in no particular order, are my Top 10 2011 moments:

1. Yellowstone. Where I wept in the face of nature’s beauty and brutality. Where I remembered my grandfather and felt as though I was living out one of his dreams. Where I remembered that life is fleeting and cruel and that none of the bollocks we distract ourselves with really matters. Where I learnt that nothing matters more than the connections we have with people and the world around us. Not even art (and if it doesn’t facilitate these connections, then it matters even less).

2. Banff. Where I engaged with wonderful creative people from all around the globe. Where I watched the mountains many moods and pondered the drastic fluctuations of my own. Where I learnt that I am really quite a solitary creature and that simplicity is sacred.

3. The Australian Open. This is lame but true. I have a bit of an obsession with Roger Federer. Watching him play tennis live was as close as I’ll ever get to a spiritual sporting experience. He is a marvellous human specimen. I make no apologies for this ridiculous infatuation.

4. City Lights Bookstore. Oh, to tread those floorboards where the feet of so many literary greats had tread before me! The sense of history was palpable. I read Lawrence Ferlinghetti in the poet’s chair in a pool of sunlight – perfect.

5. Salvation Mountain. I’m convinced that this place is where the term ‘a labour of love’ was born.

6. Sleeping in a hearse. One that we owned! Everyone should sleep in a hearse and wake up in a forest, surrounded by snow. MAGIC!

7. California and meeting a wonderful soul-mate on the coast. I can’t think of anything better than meeting a like-minded soul through chance and happenstance.

8. Grizzly Bear! Seeing a real one in the wild. Amazing!

9. 'The wedding!' Between BJ’s brother and his partner of 10 years. It was a beautiful and momentous family occasion. It was luxurious, relaxed and a hell of a lot of fun. And I got to play at being a photographer.

10. Last, but certainly not least, celebrating 18 years with BJ. We’ve come a long way since meeting in the Maths 2 room at Bundy North High in 1993!!! I think that, after making it this far, we'll make it all the way. BFF's 4evs. Totes. :)

What an amazing year huh? See why I'm upbeat about the year that was? But, time waits for no woman and it's all about looking towards the future right now. If 2011 was a ‘gap’ year in terms of art-making, 2012 will mark a return to a serious, critical engagement with art – both my own and others. So, it will be back to the regular pre-2011 schedule for this little blog. After a year of acting as a travel blog and then sporadic creative outlet, I'll be reshaping its form back into something resembling a studio blog (with bits of the everyday scattered in-between).

Bye bye 2011.

Hello 2012!!!

I hope you all had an amazing festive season and a spectacular start to the New Year!!!

No fear of water...

2011-12-20T10:58:00.000+10:00

Watercolour is tricky stuff, an amateur's but really a virtuoso's medium. It is the most light-filled of all ways of painting. It is hospitable to accident...but disaster-prone as well. One slip, and the veil of atmosphere turns into a muddy puddle, a garish swamp.

~ Robert Hughes in "Winslow Homer" in Time magazine, 1986.

Watercolours are wet colours in water.

~ David Hockney.

Pushing wet colours on paper with soft brushes. Quickly and without fear or timidity. Watercolours sooth the restless soul and bring short periods of focus. This is meditation. There is silence here. And then there is music. I am reminded of Kandinsky and his declaration that colours are like sounds, vibrating at different frequencies through the soul and vessel of the viewer. They vibrate through me, energising me, spurring me on to add more colour, more water, more translucent layers. And this painting is like a dance - free, loose and rhythmic. There is romance in it because you must give up any notion of control. You must run with the wind, or in this case, with the unpredictable fluidity of water.

To observe the nature of watercolours is to watch something magical taking place. Water pooling and sitting atop of the paper like a bubble. Suddenly its skin breaks, the liquid spreads and soaks into the porous fibres. The way that colour combines in tendrils and pools, dripping and spreading across the paper. Dark, crazed edges on translucent puddles. It is all cause and effect. Chance and opportunity. It is whimsical, willow-the-wisp like, playful and light.

Watercolours have been my anchor of late. It is a world of hub-rub and hoo-ha, of chasing tails and manic busyness punctuated by frantic happenings and frenetic dos. To sit and play with colour and water provides a welcome reprieve from all of that self important 'doing'. I am reminded of why I first fell in love with art - it brought me back to what is real. This kind of art where my hands engage with a watery medium reminds me that life is a sensory experience. It reminds me that as cerebral as this experience may appear, all logic and meaning is created. My truth is malleable and in flux, deeply influenced by culture, science, and an endless stream of contemporary stimuli. I have the freedom to do whatever I like, but what I do will merge and pool with what others do and the effects may be unexpected. There is very little certainty. I have very little control. This is not scary, it is comforting, because the results are most often beautiful, or at the very least, unique. There is no painting exactly like the one I just created.

In this way I am applying my own truth and logic to an act which is essentially meaningless. But I have the freedom to. Outside of institutions, unfettered by rationality and formality, I find this freedom and embark on recreating my own frame of logic, much like Kandinsky, where the spiritual and the physical combine to create a wellspring of personal meaning and truth.

Seaside adventures...

2011-12-06T23:07:00.004+10:00

Rock pools. Mini ecosystems drifting under water's glassy skin. Lime green sea lettuce. Rusty rubber flowers. Sticky snails and limpets clinging to rocks. Small striped fish darting and dashing between weeds and crevices. Darkness obscures the crab, hiding under a ledge. A starfish, because you are lucky. The tip of its legs curl upwards in the palm of your hand. Urchin tentacles float and sway.

It is summer. These days are made for being by the sea. Before the midday sun turns harsh and cruel it is beach time - time for tripping through the breakers and sinking toes into wet sand. In the afternoon we visit the rock pools and explore nature's vitrines. Barefoot and adventurous. Inquisitive and brave. The ocean waves mimic the rhythm of our own hearts.

Octopus are awesome. This proves it:

Bubbles inside bubbles...

2011-11-30T11:21:00.000+10:00

It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky...a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.

~ Victor Hugo.

I'm hungry. I want to eat something delicious, have a beer and a cigarette. I've come back to Earth full of desires. The air tastes good.

~ Toyohiro Akiyama, first Japanese citizen in space - his first words after eight days onboard Soyuz TM11, 1990.

I'm once again immersed in all things space-y. Intergalactic gateways, psycho-space, time-warp connectors, asteroid bursts and ancient alien footprints on distant celestial bodies. Meteors, gas clouds, death lights and new-born glimmers. Solar flares and radioactive wastelands in the primordial darkness. Mega, no, super, UBER explosions. Multicoloured star dust - billions of years old. Astral travel, worlds between worlds and the immense, silky, breathing membrane that surrounds it all.

Discoveries:

Hubble telescope image gallery = AMAZING!
Malin Gabriella Nordin
International Association for Astronomical Artists

Fowl play...

2011-11-12T22:45:00.000+10:00

It is better to be the head of a chicken than the rear end of an ox.

~ Japanese Proverb.

Saturday night and I'm hanging with a bunch of cocks. I know, it sounds like a wild time! But the cocks are dead. Stuffed actually. Literally. Ahh, but who doesn't appreciate a good cock pun? So, yes, you know your social life is flailing when you spend Saturday night at home taking photos of your dead chicken collection. You also know that you've turned into a pathetic excuse for a human being when you can't think of anything else you'd rather be doing. Indeed. Is that sad? Please tell me it's ok.

The dashing fowl above arrived on my doorstep about a week ago and quickly joined the poultry party taking place in my studio. I'm rather keen on his colourings and shiny tail feathers. It's funny, but through that wonderful thing called imagination, I've prescribed quite well defined personalities to each of these birds. They're a quirky bunch - the best studio company a girl could have! I'll never tire of looking at them. They're just so....weird. And wonderful. Don't you think?

And here's a group shot. It's a bit cheesy, but really, what else would you expect?

Ahhh chickens - so humble, strange, tasty and tactile. What's not to love?

Did you know that the fear of chickens is called alektorophobia? It's true because google told me so. This had me in stitches: "some rationale for this fear might be a general fear of birds being coordinated to attack or perhaps by chicken's daily habits - eating worms and pooping in their own nest." I love the thought of dirty contaminated chickens conspiring to attack a human target. It's like fowls with guns.

Chickens and art (highbrow and lowbrow - I like 'em both!):

Koen Vanmechelen - the master of contemporary chicken art. Check out this Tedx video on his 'Cosmopolitan Chicken Project.'
Attention Chicken - So, so good. Just take a look.
The Seoul Museum of Chicken Art - What? Hell yes. A museum dedicated to showing work about the chicken in eastern and western art. Info in English here.
Mrs K Chicken Artist - I can't believe that there is someone who specialises in chicken portraits. I did a series of poultry portraits last year as a bit of a joke. So great! This woman also designs museum displays (one of those 'dream jobs' I wonder how you get into!).
Where's the Chicken? - Robot chickens in Hong Kong.

P.S. All photo textures used are from pareeerica on Flickr.

Signs of Summer...

2011-11-12T02:03:00.001+10:00

November, and the flame trees are burning up the summer sky. I am reminded of summers past - of long, lethargic days dominated by a greasy humidity. This summer promises to be the best I've had in years. Without distraction or duty I plan to relax into the scorching weather and do summer as it's meant to be done - with lots of time spent in the hammock and without a care in the world (I feel free of cares for the first time in so, so long). Icy cold beverages, fresh salads, afternoon strolls, beach weekends and swimming in cedar creek are all mandatory.

The last of the jacarandas are flowering. Spent purple blossoms litter the lawns of many a backyard and green-strip. As another spring comes to an end the city turns to embrace this new summer. Here, at the bottom of the mountain, it is dry and the shallow creek is starting to stagnate. Dried bamboo leaves fill the crevices between boulders. I throw them into the air like confetti.

City escapades...

2011-11-07T08:34:00.000+10:00

The chief function of the city is to convert power into form, energy into culture, dead matter into the living symbols of art, biological reproduction into social creativity.

~ Lewis Mumford.

Melbourne on film. 3 November 2011.

Flirting with film...

2011-11-03T21:42:00.002+10:00

In one of our recent closet cleaning episodes I came across something of a relic. Namely, Ben's brother's old ME Super Pentax camera. I looked at it curiously, wondering if the weighty little object might actually still work. After a trip to the camera store to buy some film (I haven't done that in a while!) and a quick refresher course from BJ on how to actually use a manual camera, I fired her up and she works a charm! Well, there are little issues, but these only give her character. She's what you might call temperamental. Still, after many sedentary years, I'm sure she's just warming up.

I haven't been able to purchase batteries for it yet, so I'm working in full manual, mechanical mode. It's fun and the unpredictability of it is rather exciting. I took my first roll of film to be developed yesterday afternoon and the results were far from brilliant. :) But that doesn't mean I wasn't pleased. Only half of the images actually worked, but I'm so in love with the colours and the grain. Blurry edges, a lack of focus, red stains and overblown white light really please me. Honestly, I find these images quite charming.

I've spent the last couple of days in Melbourne and took the opportunity to shoot off another couple of rolls of film today. I'm looking forward to seeing how they turn out. I also discovered the most delightful photobooths in front of Flinders St Station today. Having been there quite a few times now I've never noticed them. How odd. They are of the genuine vintage variety and the images are sooooo fun and wonderful.

If it seems as though photography has taken my artistic fancy of late that's because it has! It has stolen my heart in so many ways. The more I learn, the more possibilities arise. I am starting to really appreciate the amazing things that can be done to the photographic image, both digitally and manually. The next step is to set up my own darkroom and develop my own film. Then I want to try some hand-colouring. I'm in the experimental learning phase, which in my opinion is the *best* place to be. Lovin' it.

As darkness descends in the north, I pretend in the south..

2011-10-31T23:02:00.000+10:00

"In general, satanic possession is nothing other than an action of the devil by which, from God's permission, men are urged to sin, and he occupies their bodies, in order that they might lose eternal salvation. Thus bodily possession is an action by which the devil, from divine permission, possesses both pious and impious men in such a way that he inhabits their bodies not only according to activity, but also according to essence, and torments them, either for the punishment or for the discipline and testing of men, and for the glory of divine justice, mercy, power, and wisdom."

– Hartmann, Pastorale, 1160-1161.

Found here, for those who want further information. You'll also find a list of signs of physical possession, just in case you were uncertain.

I've been relishing all of the halloween ghoulishness of late and exploring the supernatural in my 365 project. It's the wrong time of year for halloween here (it's actually Beltane in the southern hemisphere), but not to worry, the interwebs makes it difficult to ignore all of the northern hemisphere revelry. My supernatural phenomena of choice has been demonic possession, and on doing a little bit of online research I'm 100% convinced that the spirit of evil is inside of me. Call me an exorcist!

Happy Halloween - hope it's haunted and screamy.

Don't watch this alone in the dark:

33 days...

2011-10-14T14:01:00.000+10:00

1. 2/365, 2. 3/365, 3. 4/365, 4. 6/365, 5. 8/365, 6. 9/365, 7. 10/365, 8. 11/365, 9. 12/365, 10. 13/365, 11. 15/365, 12. 19/365, 13. 20/365, 14. 21/365, 15. 22/365, 16. 23/365, 17. 24/365, 18. 25/365, 19. 26/365, 20. 27/365, 21. 29/365, 22. 30/365, 23. 31/365, 24. 32/365, 25. 33/365

I've made it through a month of daily portraits - actually 33 days! *phew* Only 11 months to go! Taking a decent self portrait requires more work than I first imagined. It's not just taking the photo - it needs to be loaded onto the computer, edited (I like that part the most!) and then uploaded to flickr. All in all I'm spending about an hour on it every day and it's become something of a daily ritual. It still hasn't felt like a chore yet, but there are days where I am time poor and I have to accept that my image isn't going to be something I'm particularly happy with. I'm viewing this as skill development so the results aren't overly important. I'm just pleased to have made it this far and I am learning so much through taking the time to focus on one thing every day.

I've also been playing around with video again, focussing on a single work which is proving to be something of a trial. After a lot of fiddling and cutting, layering and editing, I'm still not really convinced that the work is very good. But this is all part of the process I suppose. I'm waiting for a breakthrough moment and looking forward to a peer critique in the future. It might help! Until then I'll continue to tear my hair out.

Discoveries:

Paula Rebsom - On discovering the work of Paula Rebsom I was truly blown away. Her site specific installations are both poignant and whimsical. Found through Design for Mankind.
Camille Seaman - stunning iceberg photographs.
Inna Babaeva - I'm really keen on the sculptural works here. Fluro colours and blob-like, intestinal flubber spilling from, and over, everyday objects.
Paul Octavious

Present tense...

2011-10-12T16:22:00.000+10:00

Blue skies demand more outdoor wanderings. The jacarandas are starting to bloom. Magpies are swooping. Butterflies are invading the garden (and they're most welcome!). I'm waiting to spot our resident tawny frogmouth owls perched on the high branches of the gums that line our yard. I hope they come back this year.

The herb garden is wild and unruly. It needs some tlc and a lot of hard yakka put into it. The rocket has gone to seed, the lettuce have started flowering, nasturtiums are rambling all over the other plants and weeds are starting to sprout in areas where the mulch has disintegrated into the earth. But it's all ok. There is no perfecting a garden. The cycles turn and the once lush spring garden starts to descend into chaos and decay. I let most plants self seed so that next year I might be surprised by what pops up.

This phase in the garden kind of reflects how I feel right now. It's been a funny old week. I've been in a bit of a funk, unable to commit to anything, undecided about the path I want to follow. I find myself in this same position every few years. I'm somewhere in-between. In-between what, I'm not sure. The past and the future. I guess that makes me smack bang in the centre of the present. It's an odd place to be, stuck right in the here and now. We talk so often of 'being in the moment'. But it's an uncomfortable place to remain for too long. At least for me. I do better if I have something semi concrete to look forward to.

But not to worry. In a world so consumed with productivity, output, and certainty I feel a little bit rebellious by wallowing in this zone. I feel it even more when people ask what I've been doing and I say "Oh, not much, just chilling out, pottering around, going for walks, taking photos and being quite homely." The response is either an awkward grunt and a change of conversation or a backhanded "Oh, wouldn't *that* be nice." Yeah, when you allow yourself to enjoy it, it really is!

Fragments of creekside wanderings...

2011-10-04T11:12:00.002+10:00

In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.

~ da Vinci

A world between worlds. The corridor is long and sheltered by a rich, green tapestry. Golden reflections.

Fallen leaves turn shades of red and brown.

Moss and lichen. Heavily shaded nooks. Wet stone.

Trickles. Drips. Delicate broken webs floating on the breeze.

Those clouds did break...

2011-10-03T13:23:00.000+10:00

Hanging creekside. Making faces at the stagnant pools. Bamboo leaf litter is slippery underfoot.

Bearded dragons. Dry rocks and fallen branches, made furry by unknown bug larvae.

Clouds overhead, promising rain. Monday morning. Earth time.

Mojo risin'...

2011-09-30T21:59:00.001+10:00

I finally got around to visiting the Surrealism: The Poetry of Dreams exhibition at GOMA today after realising that it closes on Sunday. I really enjoyed it and wish that I had gone earlier so that I could make a second visit. It's always difficult to see everything in one go. Still, I was totally smitten with a number of works there, particularly the works of Dora Maar ('The Eyes' images were so, well, surreal!) and the delicate little collages of Max Ernst. The films were amazing and I spent most of my time standing in front of the massive projections, losing myself inside the strange world of nightmare imagery. I'd just been complaining about the difficulties I've been experiencing in making video works, but I can't imagine how time consuming and complicated it must have been 70 or 80 years ago! The superimposing and layering of moving black and white images was quite mesmerising.

My friend Jess had her honours exhibition this week and she invited me to contribute a few works. The show called Delicate Conversations aimed to "create a dialogue regarding femininity and body image in the 21st century through craft-based artworks," (from the exhibition catalogue.) She had been working hard on a number of projects, embroidering the beautiful slip (below left) and curating a project whereby she stitched together squares of fabric contributed by members of an eating disorder forum to create a quilt of shared experiences (below right). Jess and I started our arty journey 5 years ago at a local technical college, so we've both come a long way! It was really lovely to be a part of her graduate show. Thanks Jess!

All that glitters is gold (left) and The Patchwork Project (right), Jess Dyball.

She was not abandoned, but set free (top left), installation view (top right), and Her reappearance sent chills down the wanderer's spine (bottom left and right), Me!

Kinding (left), Kinding, There Were Two and We Intertwined (in order right), Lauren Carney.

Also, finally picked up a copy of The Selby is in your Place and have been getting lost in the wonderful creative spaces presented within it. I've been following The Selby website since its inception. I find the homes and studios of creatives just as inspirational as the work that they make. I also think that Todd Selby has my dream job (outside of being an artist of course!). I think it's amazing that this one project became something of a phenomenon.

Apart from all of that I've been working on compiling and editing images and video from our trip which features Damien the hearse in all his deathly glory. It's been a long trial, finding images, deciding on what to do with them, how to put them together and how I want to display them. I'll have to look for somewhere to exhibit the project, but as of now I'm lost in the intensity of working on it. It's been a good way for me to get back into research and thinking about theory. Finally, I feel like I'm getting back into the groove of practice and that's a relief. For the past two months I've been a bit worried that my working mojo had gone, but I think that time was required to get back into the rhythm of being at home and in the studio. Onwards and upwards. Michelle has her mojo back!

Discoveries:

A dense, tangled growth...

2011-09-26T22:21:00.002+10:00

Rainforest

~ Judith Wright.

The forest drips and glows with green.

The tree-frog croaks his far-off song.

His voice is stillness, moss and rain

drunk from the forest ages long.

We cannot understand that call

unless we move into his dream,

where all is one and one is all

and frog and python are the same.

We with our quick dividing eyes

measure, distinguish and are gone.

The forest burns, the tree-frog dies,

yet one is all and all are one.

I've been spending a lot of time in the great outdoors lately. It keeps me sane and grounded. All that green has a positive effect on me. The forest is a temple. - a space in which to confront my own mortality. To be reminded that the world will turn regardless of my place in it - this is a comfort. Life and death on the dank forest floor. "A dense, tangled growth".

Discoveries:

Here comes the sun...

2011-09-19T10:36:00.002+10:00

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.

~Nadine Stair

Spring has well and truly taken ahold. Cool breezes and chilly evenings have given way to hot days and temperate nights. The season's are turning and I finally feel like the perpetual winter is over. You see, I have spent most of the year, thus far, in cold weather - apart from a few weeks spent in the south of North America. I am longing for warmth and the long heady days that summer brings. In the past I have moaned loudly about the heat and humidity, but this year I will try very hard to enjoy it by remembering how much I hated being cold.

All over the city trees and plants are flowering, dropping their blooms and starting to sprout new green growth. In my own garden the rain trees, completely barren only one week ago, are shooting out new amber coloured leaves. It will only take another week for these to grow triple in size and change colour to a vibrant lime green. When the rain trees boast new full growth my garden becomes a tropical oasis, shaded and wild. It is a tangled mess out there, but one that I love dearly.

There hasn't been much art making going on around here. I have barely thought of art, or cared much for caring about it. But I have been taking my camera with me everywhere I go, snapping the world around me, trying to capture it from different angles, experimenting with light and composition. I have become more interested than I ever have before in the actual technical side of taking good images. I am reading about it, thinking about it, trying things out instead of haphazardly hoping that the final image comes out ok. I think I am starting to learn a few things, and improve. I thought about taking a course, but have decided that this experiential learning is best for me...it's natural, easy and fun. I need to make my own mistakes. And whilst I do that, I can capture all the glorious-ness of spring unfurling around me! It's a win/win kinda situation.

Discoveries:

Cassandra Smith - Oh me, oh my!!! I can't believe that I haven't seen her work before. Of course, I totally love it.
The new Ruby Mag. Always love what they have to offer. This edition has given me a painting itch.
Patrick Hubry.
This post by Dawn Tan is thought provoking. How many of us can relate?

The measure of a man...

2011-09-15T15:23:00.001+10:00

Goodness is the only investment that never fails.

~ Henry David Thoreau

I dedicated today's 365 days self portrait to the memory of my grandfather by donning his work hat and grasping a cow! Last night, after downing a bottle of savignon blanc, I lay my head on the pillow to catch some much needed sleep. As I was drifting into a blissful slumber I suddenly shot up in bed, my head filled with the realisation that I'd missed the anniversary of Pa's death. It's not that I feel guilty about it as I think of him often and honour his memory whenever the time seems right. Like, while we were travelling, whenever we stepped foot inside a forest, or some wild leafy place, I would say out loud, "I wish Pa could have seen this." You see, his life was very simple. He had not the means, nor the opportunity, to travel far. But he loved watching nature documentaries and he had a great admiration for indigenous cultures, the world over. As a man of the 50's generation who left school before he even reached his teenage years, he was incredibly wise. He also had a great sense of compassion for those less fortunate than him or burdened by hardship.

I idolised my grandfather as a child. Perhaps I still do. I have never met another human being with more integrity or grace. He was unassuming, polite, very funny, industrious, and loving. He spent a lot of time alone working on the farm. He worked hard. Bloody hard. After a day at the forestry he'd come home to the farm and tend to the vegetable patch, feed the chickens, milk the cows, water the flowers and pick fruit from the orchard. When he felt like a rest he'd take a pillow out underneath a row of large norfolk pines, close his eyes and listen to the wind. I swear he spoke the language of nature. He was so connected to it, to the land and the elements.

Pa was also incredibly imaginative. We'd go elephant hunting through the paddocks, talk to trees and administer medicine to sick goats that could speak of their ailments. I think I must credit him for nurturing a sense that there are world's within our own world that we can access simply through believing they exist. I'm so appreciative of that.

I sat by my grandfather's bedside, with my grandmother, as he lay dying. It was the most difficult week of my life. On the night he passed I was lying in bed, on the verge of sleep, when I felt an arm fall across my body and start to grip me tightly. I was terrified, frozen with fear, and trying desperately to convince my mind that it was a dream so that I could wake up. The phone rang. I heard my grandmother get out of bed. She answered the phone and calmly responded to the voice on the other end of the line. "Ok." "When?" "Right." My grandfather had died only minutes earlier. The nurse on the phone had witnessed his last breath. I think that the arm I felt around me in bed that night was my grandfather trying to reassure me and say goodbye. Unfortunately he frightened the living daylights out of me, hah! But, in hindsight, it all made perfect sense.

I smile now at this memory. I'm not superstitious and find it difficult to accept that the dead can communicate with the living. But this memory, real or imagined, has become something of a comfort to me. I choose to believe that my grandfather was telling me that he loves me and that everything was going to be ok.

He may be gone now but his legacy is rich and lives within me. If I have learnt anything from him it is to stay humble. I don't just mean in terms of how one thinks of oneself, but also in terms of how we live. Live simply and reject the desire to want more. Be more, consume less. This lesson is really hitting home now that I'm in my mid 30's. Where I see people around me grasping for "more, more, more", I am convinced that it is best to stay humble and appreciate everything I have now. I have everything I need. Sure, sometimes I want a bigger home, a newer kitchen, a designer handbag, or a killer figure, but if I can't find happiness and contentment right here with what I already have, then nothing is going to bring me fulfilment. The older I get, the less I desire, with one exception. Experience. I will lap experiences up greedily and do it in honour of the last gentleman that I ever knew. Clary Knowles. I love you. You were such a good, honest man.

Personal projects...

2011-09-12T20:32:00.000+10:00

Image 1/365 for the 365 Days project.

I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.

~ Frida Kahlo.

I've finally joined the 365 Days project on Flickr. I'd been thinking about it for a while thanks to Amy's photostream, but having spent a large portion of this year travelling it seemed unlikely that I'd be able to do it justice. Basically, it involves taking a photographic self portrait every day and posting it to the image pool. Sounds simple right? Right. However, from what I've heard it is more difficult than it sounds and requires a high level of commitment and self discipline. I have neither of those things in spades, but what I do have is enthusiasm and an endless stream of inspiration.

I plan to be in it for the long haul, but we'll see how I go. What I hope to gain is new and better refined photographic and editing skills. And surely there'll be gold amongst the hundreds of images that I'll finish up with at this time next year. I'm hoping to produce a few diamonds and lose them in amongst the rubble. It will also be nice to have something of a creative routine every single day. There are some very high calibre works and photographers amongst the 365 Days group to be inspired by! Check these out:

1. Day 268 - Remember Your Roots, 2. 20110819, the 100th of my 365, 100/365, 3. Faint, 4. Y:3 Day 344: Light my way, 5. The Forgotten Childhood, 6. 365- Day 68. The Outcasts. [Explore!], 7. day one hundred & seventy three. Speak no evil., 8. the standpoint of daily life., 9. the subtle grace., 10. 123/365, 11. 243/365, 12. 168-365 Habitación Absurda/Absurd Room, 13. Day 37, 14. The bridge between now and nightmare., 15. All your ghosts are crying (press L!), 16. Kaddish Yatom

So today I posted my first image (at the top of the post) to the group and my 365 Days set. Only 364 days to go!

I've also signed up for this year's Sketchbook Project. I keep a sketchbook and thought that I might as well share those daily drawings with the rest of the world. I wanted to take part in this project last year but knew that I simply didn't have the time to commit to it. Well, now I do. I can't wait to get started on it. Here's some video from last year's travelling exhibition:

2011 Sketchbook Project Tour Seattle from mightymoss on Vimeo.

Cut and paste...

2011-09-09T16:57:00.002+10:00

Collage is the noble conquest of the irrational, the coupling of two realities, irreconcilable in appearance, upon a plane which apparently does not suit them.

~ Max Ernst.

In between reworking old soft-sculpted work for a friend's honours exhibition I've been cutting and pasting, creating little collages for another handmade book. I came across a stack of old national geographics in a secondhand bookstore and as we all know from creating primary school projects, the wonderous images inside beg to be hacked up and reconfigured.

It's so easy to get lost inside these magazines. From the micro worlds of amoeba and insects, to the macro universal images of galaxies and star clusters, the imagination stretches and curls back in on itself in an adventurous journey which is both aesthetic and informative. The most exciting part of this journeying involved finding articles on places that I had actually seen first hand and realising how blessed I was to be able to travel and see such amazing things. What is it that they say? Oh, yes, "the world truly is an amazing place." A world which fuels human creativity and inspires the mind to travel farther than our feet could ever take us. It's a treat. One that we might easily neglect to take stock of. I get all buzzed on the miraculous nature of it all at times...buzzed and blown away!

The process of image selection is organic and intuitive, but also highly considered. Simple shapes transform images into totemic structures. Hybrid creatures play on the emptiness of the white page.

Reading: When Marina Abramovic Dies - I started this several months ago but didn't get far before I went overseas. The start was fairly heavy going, but I'm really starting to enjoy it and feel like I have a greater insight into the amazing artist and woman.

Drifters...

2011-08-31T16:56:00.000+10:00

Remnants of life

Once concealed below the waves

Lines that curve and bend

Sculpted by the elements

How long have you drifted?

Drifters, artist book, 2009 - 2011, watercolour and polaroids on 300gsm cold pressed archers watercolour paper, 150 x210 mm (approx.)

Coptic bound with embroidery thread. Found a fantastic tutorial for coptic stitch binding here. It's in two parts and so easy to follow. I can't tell you how fulfilling it is to finish something that has been lying around for over two years!

Sketchbooks, seascapes and the sublime...

2011-08-30T23:39:00.001+10:00

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity...and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.

~ William Blake.

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

~ John Muir.

I'm obsessed with forest creatures at the moment. I keep drawing them in my moleskine. You see, I've been dreaming of returning to Yellowstone next Spring (northern hemisphere). It's not going to happen, but I can dream, right? I even bought the most recent BBC documentary series on Yellowstone and watched it in one sitting on Sunday. It is so stunning and incredibly wild. It is difficult to believe that places like this really exist. Yellowstone is like paradise - albeit one that is both beautiful and brutal. That word, the 'sublime' applies in spades. I have never fallen so deeply in love with a place in such a brief amount of time. I was only there for four days, but it had such a deep impact on me. Oh, beautiful Yellowstone...I miss you and your amazing critters!

I've also been working on old projects. Mostly drawings, collages and artist books - some that have been stagnant for years. These little projects were discovered in my studio clean up a month or so back. They were too near completion to throw out, but required work in order to finish properly. One half-made book in particular contains delicate watercolours of ocean debris and dusty polaroids of Bribie Island beach scenes. It's so clean and sparse - I can barely believe that it is something that I made. Tomorrow I will give it the attention it deserves by adding text and stitching the heavy pages together. I hope it rains while I work.

P.S: A little preview of the place I've become totally enamoured with:

Inside a loaded brush...

2011-08-26T10:25:00.000+10:00

As I looked at this modest building...I could see, just as freedom is most on the mind of those confined to dungeons, imagination can fly from humble, quiet, unstimulating places.

~ Robert Genn on the home of Dylan Thomas.

Overcast, wet and windy late winter days have provided the perfect conditions for a little bit of hibernation. Venus the wonder-cat and I have been doing just that - closing all the doors, turning on the heater, listening to sweet tunes and embracing the environs of the great indoors! I've been directing my creative energy into watercolour painting and I've enjoyed it greatly. Watercolours are my favourite drawing/painting material. The unpredictability of the medium keeps things interesting. You have to give up a certain level of control when using watercolours. Chance and happy accidents need to be embraced and a sense of adventure is required.

I haven't put my mind to painting in this way for such a long time and I'm amazed at how confident I am with a loaded brush. I love the translucent layers of soft colour that build on the paper. Actually, the paper itself is something to marvel at. I prefer hot pressed paper, at 300 gsm. It has a beautiful heavy weight and is smooth to the touch. Paint dries relatively quickly on this paper and I am able to work at a nice pace. I get annoyed if I have to wait for layers to dry.

I've taken to painting in the kitchen, as the dining table is large enough to hold all I want it to. Plus, it allows me easy access to the kettle and instant coffee. I enjoy a few pick-me-ups when I'm working in this way. Today I plan on painting all day and completely losing myself in the process.

P.S. If you're out and about today, don't forget to pick up some daffodils and support Daffodil day for cancer research. They have a few different varieties this year too. So charming!

Shape Shifters opening..

2011-08-22T11:31:00.001+10:00

Saturday evening saw in the celebration of our collaborative exhibition Shape Shifters. The nice folks from the Wandering Room helped us organise an opening which included an afternoon tea style spread. There was ambient live music from some friendly animal hybrid musicians, Horsemouth, and a crowd of art-goers who filled the space with a chatty energy. All in all it was a fabulous way to celebrate the end of a two week collaborative project. Thanks to Zoe for being such an awesome person to make art with. I love the environment we created - totally transforming the industrial looking shop-front into an otherworldly, shrine-like space. And cheers to the Wandering Room for the opportunity!

Progress..

2011-08-18T21:44:00.000+10:00

Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious.

~Jean Cocteau

This is how I feel at the moment. Rational, well-considered choices coupled with spontaneous and intuitive actions maketh the work.

Zoe and I are making progress on our installation/works down at Grey Street. We spent the greater part of the day blowing up balloons, pondering options, painting walls and spontaneously making. Things are starting to come together and after a super human effort tomorrow we'll be ready to show the results of our experiments and hard work on Saturday afternoon. Hope you can make it!

Flickr faves...

2011-08-18T09:50:00.001+10:00

1. natural god's eye, 2. ., 3. Untitled, 4. Untitled, 5. Untitled, 6. after dinner., 7. Spider, 8. Untitled, 9. day 201, 10. clay paper chain, 11. Bang bang. Baby's dead., 12. Untitled, 13. Untitled, 14. ., 15. Still dancing ...., 16. Marine Life, 17. the world above, 18. Local artist Bradley Delay at Upper Playground in Portland, 19. The disturbing truth surrounding the existence of Daniel Crowley., 20. Untitled, 21. "The Revolution Won't Come without a Price", 22. Land, 23. The renegades., 24. come undone, 25. (Der Ort des Geistes)

Washed out palettes and soft light. Blacks and whites. The body, partly concealed. Faces obscured. A haze. A dream. Elsewhere.

The garden path...

2011-08-17T21:18:00.001+10:00

In gardens beauty is a by-product. The main business is sex and death.

~ Sam Llewellyn.

One of my favourite places in this fair city of ours is the Mt Coot-tha Botanic Gardens. I can't count the number of times I've visited this special place over the past 17 years. It is typical of most botanic gardens, being carved up into sections including a desert garden, japanese garden, rainforest, native bushland, and tropical dome. Many kilometres of bitumen paths weave through all of these garden terrains. Scrub turkeys and water dragons scuttle through the fallen leaves and shrubs on your approach. Ibis stalk the grassy areas and turtles bask on rocks in the ponds and lakes.

Still, my favourite part of the gardens is the herb section. It's not as well planned as other herb gardens I've visited, nor is it overly pretty (as herbs can be notoriously scrappy), but herbs are special plants and I appreciate them for their varied uses and delicious scents. Once upon a time I was a herb officianado and used them to make all kinds of lotions and potions. These days I grow them for culinary or aesthetic use only which makes for easy gardening - the Brisbane climate being herb friendly.

We recently visited the gardens for the first time since our return from the States. This place, so familiar to me, totally rejuvenated my spirits after a morning punctuated by a case of the blues. I was reminded that gardens are indeed places of healing - for both the wearied body and tired soul. After a short walk through the towering figs, past waxy gingers and deep bird's nest ferns, I was completely reenergised and willing to explore the farthest corners of the property.

We took the camera on our wanderings, pausing to examine the strange shapes and forms of the exotics, the alluring colours of the flowering plants and the city views that present themselves on the higher garden paths. This, the simple act of moving and observing, should not be underestimated. But I do, far too often. What is it that they say about smelling the roses? That's right, take the time. Simplicity seems such a difficult goal to achieve in these times. Complexity and busy-ness is rewarded, or applauded. How often am I reminded of how busy everybody else is? And how often do I feel guilt over my own seemingly uncomplex (it really isn't!) life. The thing is that I wish to simplify more and create a regular routine which allows plenty of time to smell those proverbial roses. I strive to keep occupied, but not busy. Relaxed, not lazy. Engaged, but not obsessed. If it sounds boring, it really isn't. Maybe I'm ageing, but intensity and extremity doesn't interest me so much anymore and I'm working on beating that side out of me - the side that always leads to chaos.

Like Llewellyn says, the garden (a microcosm of our planet) is all about sex and death. Beauty, that 'by-product', is in a constant state of flux, as are we. Need we complicate this anymore? It seems enough to deal with, enough to take stock of, enough to observe and marvel at. So much of the rest seems like a failed tactic at avoiding the garden, which of course, we cannot. In the words of the naturalist John Burroughs: To learn something new, take the path that you took yesterday.

Exhibition invitation

2011-08-16T21:30:00.000+10:00

If you haven’t heard The Wandering Room has a new temporary address S13/14 Grey Street at South Bank. This space marks the start of our Wandering Room on Grey Street project. This project involves an artist or a number of artists being invited to use our space as a studio and produce an exhibition that develops and transforms over time.

Come along this Saturday the 20th of August at 4pm for our first afternoon tea Shape Shifters. See collaborative, experimental, performative and three dimensional work by Zoe Porter and Michelle Knowles. Both artists work across various disciplines and are interested in textures, fabric, animals and hybrids.

There will be tea and coffee as well as sweets available and the afternoon will also feature pirate funk musical outfit Horsemouth.

Wandering Room on Grey Street is being supported by South Bank Corporation and Grey Street, South Bank.

Shapeshifters

2011-08-16T18:44:00.000+10:00

Shapeshifter: a person or being with the ability to change their physical form at will.

~ oxfordictionaries.com

In my second week down at the Wandering Room space on Grey Street in Southbank. Zoe and I have started the week fiddling with the wall work, playing with chickens and editing some collaborative digital collages. It's nice to be given the liberty to explore and play with another's work and have my own reinterpreted through the hand of another artist.

Today a couple of the South Bank workers came in to fix up the air conditiong ducts that were hanging from the ceiling. One of them went straight for a chicken and acted out a rabid poultry attack! Hah! Love a bit of audience participation. I think we should hire him for a performance piece!

Our 'opening' will be on Saturday afternoon at 4pm.

Collaborative adventures in space and time...

2011-08-11T11:13:00.001+10:00

I think it is in collaboration that the nature of art is revealed.

~ Steve Lacy.

So, lately I've been hanging out at The Wandering Room Pop-up space on Grey Street, Southbank, collaborating with artist, Zoe Porter. The opportunity to use this space came up only a week ago so we've been thrown in at the deep end. This is how I like things. Spontaneous and intense projects are thrilling and fun. It's energising and exhausting all at the same time. Initially we were going to exhibit our work independent of the other, but on being in the space and examining each other's work it appeared that it would provide fertile ground for collaboration. In these images Zoe is working on a wall painting she composed from some of my photographs. It has been a joy watching these images transform through her magic, painter hands. I look forward to seeing it complete!

If you're around Southbank next week pop in and see me. I'm in the old 'Egg' shop just South of the cinemas (on the opposite side of the road) on Grey Street. We'll be having an official 'opening' next Saturday afternoon.

Discoveries:

Fun and interesting work by Thomas Forsyth. Great blog too.
New Ruby Mag with the theme 'otherworldliness'. Nice. Particularly fond of the soft scultpure installations of Elsa Maria Merlendez and the photographs of Ryan Schude.
Amazing photographs by Iiu Susiraja. Especially intrigued by this series. Body/object relations. Humorous yet also strangely austere. Discovered through the blog of Camilla Engman.

Lillywhite...

2011-08-04T13:50:00.000+10:00

1. Narnia Trees, 2. Castle Mountain, 3. Mirror Lake, 4. Banff, 5. Vermillion Lakes, 6. The Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, 7. Sea of Cloud, 8. Winter Sunrise, 9. Louise Falls Climbers, 10. Patience - Moraine Lake, 11. Bow Lake and Crowfoot Mountain in November, 12. Winter Scene, 13. Winter Sun, 14. Columbia Ice field Glacier哥伦比亚冰原的冰川IMG_9886, 15. Frozen Moraine Lake at Sunset, 16. Timeless Banff in the Spring

Heading back to the snow. In my mind at least. I will sit in the frozen wilderness for two weeks and block out the noise from the streets. The chill is already entering my bones. But the view is beautiful from here.

Online wanderings and artists that have taken my fancy of late:

Michelle Blade
Ellen Black
Kelly Lynn Jones
James Mollison - especially THIS series.
Brea Souders

The domesticated hen...

2011-08-02T22:21:00.003+10:00

Housekeeping ain't no joke.

~ Louisa May Alcott.

I have a love/hate relationship with housekeeping. Some days I loathe it, becoming irritable and full of resentment at the thought of it. Performing mundane tasks that I know will have to be repeated again and again can feel like plain old drudgery. And then there are rare days, like today, where all I want to do is indulge (yes, indulge!) in routine domestic duties. There is no in-between. It's either love or loathe. After a few days away and *another* bout of sickness all I wanted to do today was freshen up my abode and revel in a little bit of domestic bliss. I even baked and gardened, confirming my status as a domestic goddess. Temporarily, at least.

And why is this important? Well, it isn't. But a lack of adventure or art-making of late has led to a distinct lack of things to blog about. I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel so to speak. Still, there is art in domestic life - you just have to seek it out. Or stick on your favourite chicken mask and make a private performance out of taking care of your household duties.

Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.

~ Sigmund Freud.

I heard of the passing of Margaret Olley last week and watched an interview with her that was conducted quite a few years ago. I was struck by her spritely personality and commitment to her vocation as a painter. She wasn't too enamoured with contemporary art, having the opinion that much of it was "indulgent". I'm not entirely sure what she meant by that, and though I largely disagree with her, I don't begrudge her for her views. Instead, I admire both her commitment and dedication to her work and to the strength of character she displayed in continuing to share her painterly vision with the world.

Olley loved flowers and literally filled her home with them, incorporating them into the still lives and vignettes that were represented in her paintings. Who doesn't love flowers, really? It would take a hardened spirit to despise them. Before I felt compelled to become an artist I painted flowers, amongst other things, in my spare time. Painting proved a leisurely way to pass the time and observing flowers in all their delicate, colourful glory was akin to a form of meditation. Rarely do fresh flowers not adorn my home. They come either from the store, market or garden, I don't care where. A few blooms can totally lift the weary spirit. So, here's to the flower, that extroverted natural marvel that brings so much pleasure and adds colour to one's life:

As can be discerned from this post, I'm continuing to be a homebody. However, whilst I've been cocooned in the domestic life my work has been out in the world, adventuring and meeting new viewers. I have a work I made on my Banff residency in a show entitled 'Object Relations' on now at LEVEL. I will have some other works from my Shriek to the Echo series (visible here) showing at the QUT Arts Week exhibition at The Tidy next week. And another opportunity has recently arisen which will soon see me out and about, and making art like a trooper for two full weeks. I'm excited by the thought of fully engaging with the world again and of creating in an open studio environment. Bring it on!

A slow awakening...

2011-07-22T17:05:00.000+10:00

I've been in hibernation for quite some time now, partly due to a pesky sickness, and partly due to a desire to nest after so much time on the road. Home is important to me - it is more than a place to rest my head - it is my sanctuary, a place in which to cultivate dreams and love. I know it sounds lame and I feel like such a sap writing it, but I feel grateful to have such a place in which to cocoon myself from the world. But I've felt the need to start reconnecting, both with my work and with the world around me. The holiday is well and truly over and only now am I willing to let it go and step forth into the unknown murkiness of the future.

It's taken me nearly a month, but I've tentatively set foot inside the studio (to make work) for the first time since I returned home from my American adventure. Last week I spent 4 days clearing out a whole skip-full of junk and unused materials that were cluttering up my studio. I could barely breathe in there for the claustrophobia-inducing towers of 'stuff' that were filling the room. I was ruthless and fierce in my purging - marching garbage bags full of unimaginable things from the upstairs studio, through the house, down the front stairs, straight towards the skip. I felt a weight lift from me with each box or bag that got deposited into that bin. By the end of it I felt so light, and so did the studio. It still does! All that remains in there are a few essential supplies, a shelf full of contemporary art magazines and journals, and a selection of favourite old objects that I can't yet bear to throw out.

My white documentation-background wall is back in all its starkness - this pleases me no end. I love having one white wall that I can position my work (or myself!) against in order to see it in isolation. Sometimes I stare at that wall and imagine all sorts of things upon it. The possibilities are endless. Right now I am attempting to be disciplined and thorough by going through my Banff works with a fine toothed comb and editing everything into a nice body of work. But there is a part of me that likes loose ends which float around resisting capture. Stray hairs that end up in the corner of your eye, or tickling your nostril. Annoying really, but untameable, rebellious....

Yeah, I like those wispy threads. Still, the works as a whole require some attention. And then there are the endless folders full of photographs on my computer that need sorting into some kind of...ahhh, some kind of...what? Some kind of ordered system. That will do. I don't know where to start.

So, today I planned to make a dint in all of that, sitting diligently at my newly cleaned desk, facing the computer and sorting, sorting... Until I saw some pencils and a nice fresh pad of creamy, smooth aquarrele watercolour paper sitting on my supply shelf. Next thing I know I'm sharpening pencils and drawing a bear (a creature I've become enamoured with since sighting some in the beautiful forests of the US). This is all very well and I'm keen to look upon it as a limbering up exercise. But really? Old habits die hard and already on day one I am seeking out avoidance tactics. It's not like anyone is even asking me to do the work I set out for myself - I set my own goals. The procrastinator in me lives on.

Still, this is a start and as long as I'm using my hands I'll look upon it as a step in the right direction. Besides, one of my new year resolutions was to go easy, take time to indulge and try to enjoy every single moment of the journey. After the frenetic energy that surrounded me the past few years I am convinced that it is good and right to seek calmness and indulge in long stretches of quiet solitude and reflection. And really, there is no need for haste, as I have no idea what exactly I'd be racing towards. In any case, I hope the finish line is a loooooooooooong way ahead! I'm going to try and be the tortoise for once, instead of the hare.

Monday mosaic...

2011-07-18T22:04:00.001+10:00

1. Untitled, 2. Untitled, 3. watch out, 4. Weatherman., 5. Untitled, 6. the flock, 7. in a world of greater mortals, 8. nestled, 9. why, 10. Trix, 11. Sleeping Giants, 12. july 8, 13. Bobby Gonzales, 14. tiny sea star, 15. Untitled, 16. swing, 17. ., 18. Untitled, 19. Untitled, 20. Untitled, 21. ., 22. Above the Line, 23. 2011 Fireworks, 24. The Second Visit, 25. Foggy Melbourne

More flickr faves. More cool tones. Water, mist and clouds. Forests and fireworks. The city and the sea. I'm intrigued by what is concealed within these images or hidden beyond the frame.

Exploring the familiar...

2011-07-14T22:54:00.000+10:00

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.

~ Marcel Proust.

This is one of my favourite quotes. I used to repeat it to myself when I first started taking drawing classes so that I would remember to find the extraordinary in everyday objects. Having recently spent a good number of months travelling I was surprised at how fresh and interesting Brisbane appeared to me on my return. All of the beautiful vintage buildings and facades are so unique to this place, as is that iconic piece of northern architecture, the Queenslander. The light here is something I always miss when I'm out of Australia. It is harsh and unforgiving, but it is also honest and pure. You can't hide under the Australian sun. I also appreciate how green our city is, filled with small patches of bushland and forest. I am lucky to have beautiful streams and rainforest only minutes walk away from my house and I often find myself wandering there in search of escape from the regular suburban routine.

I've started taking my camera with me everywhere I go. I did it while we travelled and became used to having it with me. In fact, if I go somewhere without it I always regret it when I see something that I'd like to capture through the lens. I'm not interested in the technical side of photography - it took me a long time to work out what iso and f-stop meant (hah!) - but I love the instantaneous nature of it. It allows one to be creative on the run and fulfils a need within me to constantly be able to reinterpret the world around me through art.

I've taken all of these images since arriving home two weeks ago. I'm still seeing my city in a fresh light and I feel like something of a tourist in my home town. In Proust's words I have 'new eyes' with which to see the landscape. I like these new eyes and I want to keep them, but I am aware that time has a habit of taking the gloss off of anything that becomes too familiar.

So I've set myself a challenge to try and hold onto this sense of discovery that comes with having new eyes. After 17 years there is still so much of this city that I haven't explored. I think that it is time to travel deeper into the complex web of my city and its surrounds. My first destination will be Moreton island - I can't believe that I have spent all these years as a Brisbanite and never made the boat trip to Moreton. I've only been to Straddie twice! It just doesn't seem right. I'm keen on booking a day trip to the island, seeing the dolphins and walking in the sand as soon as possible. But until then I hope this sense of fresh vision continues. It's priceless and golden.

A cultivated collection...

2011-07-10T00:04:00.006+10:00

1) Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen, Typewriter Eraser, 1999. 2) Roy Lichtenstein, House 1, 1996.

I've been sorting and shuffling through all of the photographs I took on our trip, dividing them into folders which make some modicum of organisational sense to my brain. It's tedious work and I am easily sidetracked. This morning I came across a whole heap of photographs that I took in Washington, a place I kind of neglected to talk about whilst on the road. I suppose it wasn't really my kind of place. Outside it was quite dull and blech, but inside all of those Smithsonian buildings was a veritable smorgasboard of wonders. I did talk about the Natural History Museum, which was a big bucket of awesome, but I forgot to mention our wanderings through the National Gallery of Art and the Air and Space Museum. Oh, art and science, what a wonderful combination! Throw in a bit of superstition and I'm in heaven!

So, anyway, may I present a little snapshot of our journey through the American National Gallery of Art! First stop was the sculpture garden. It was a stinking hot day that day, something like 37 degrees celsius, and walking around the garden proved something of an effort. Still, each sculpture was like a little reward that took us one step further towards the comfort of an air conditioned building. Ha! I was delighted to finally see one of those spindly monster spiders crafted by the divine Ms Bourgeois. I would have liked to have stood under it but a bed of flowers blocked me on all sides. These works have always reminded me of Shelob from The Lord of the Rings - you know, the big spider creature that chases Bilbo and Frodo through the dark mountains on the edge of Mordor? Yeah, I'm one of *those* people.

Louise Bourgeois, Spider, 1996.

It's always odd encountering the kinds of sculptures we saw outside of the gallery. Sometimes they can look a little misplaced, uncomfortable within their own form, struck frigid from their exposure to the elements. I wonder about placement and who decides to put what where. Some pieces stood tall and obvious, fully exposed to the sun on grassy, low-cut lawns. Others were hidden within the shrubbery, like this piece consisting of a group of small statured, headless body casings cast in bronze. I know nothing about this artist, but I wish her headless children were exposed to more sun...they looked fragile and pale under a thick canopy of leaves:

Magdalena Abakanowicz, Girls, 1992.

I walked through the Juan Miro below believing that I was reversing my birth, until I read that the bottom element of this work was modelled off of a donkey yoke. Uh huh, sure Juan. I believe that 'Bird Flash' is a euphamism. Right? I get it. And this rabbit was just cute, in a Donnie Darko kind of way. What's with creepy rabbits? Cute gone wrong, apocalyptic nightmares...arghhh! I have to admit that I'm guilty of embracing the creepy rabbit myself.

1) Juan Miro, Gothic Personage, Bird Flash, 1977. 2) 3) Barry Flanagan, Thinker on a Rock, 1997.

On entering the beautiful facade of the regal building that is the National Gallery we saw stunning religious sculptures and impressionist masterpieces like these:

That was nice, and I didn't begrudge wandering around in the cool air, but on that particular day I was in the mood for something a little fresher. So, we stuck to the more modern and contemporary galleries. The passage connecting the East and West buildings were joined underground by this amazing work of art by Leo Villareal. Called Multiverse it gave the effect of going through a space/time continuum. I spent a good half hour in the cafe facing the work just watching people come towards me or slip further away into the vortex of little lights.

Leo Villareal, Multiverse, 2008.

There was a function being set up in the contemporary galleries so we only really got to explore the bottom floor, which was filled with art from the 70's onwards. An exhibition of Nam June Paik works was on but we couldn't find it for the life of us! Still there was plenty of interesting works like those below to keep us interested. I think that every gallery in America has a collection of Mark Rothko's. Bloody hell, that man was prolific! I really don't need to see another Rothko in my life. I'm all Rothko'd out.

Bruce Nauman, Fifteen Pairs of Hands, 1996.

Sol Lewitt, Wall Drawing #65. Lines not short, not straight, crossing and touching, drawn at random using four colors, uniformly dispersed with maximum density, covering the entire surface of the wall. first installation, 1971.

I think my favourite part of the gallery was this room of works by Alexander Calder. Floating mobile sculptures fluttered and twirled above the gallery floor casting dancing shadows on the round walls of the vault-like, cylindrical space. All of these works were quite delicate and had a lightness of being that stood in contrast to much of the work surrounding it which was either dense, heavy or large in scale. I was surprised at how much Calder's work looked like a lot of contemporary design, and can only imagine that he had a strong influence on designers like Alessi and Philippe Starck.

Alexander Calder, various works.

I often feel as though I'm in some kind of a vault or tomb when visiting a gallery. And I suppose in a way that I am. Climate and temperature control, cold floors and white walls can be reminiscent of a morgue. From the outside of the building I imagined that the National Gallery would feel like this, but it didn't. In spite of it being a quiet afternoon in terms of people, the art itself spoke loudly. Walking down the central corridor of the west wing was like taking a walk through history where art told the story. The east wing was odd and a little awkward but sometimes it's nice to encounter something unexpected in a space, especially in a large gallery.

All of this is to say that I liked the space, and I enjoyed the gallery. It was pleasant - in a sunday afternoon stroll kind of way. I'd rather be startled, moved, surprised, or even offended. Still, I suppose that the people's gallery should cater to the people, and it really is such a beautiful collection. The kind that makes you marvel at the skill, perseverance, humour and intellect of those artists who have paved the way for this time in arts ever-evolving history.

Wednesday wonders...

2011-07-06T08:59:00.000+10:00

1. [140/365], 2. The forgotten housewife., 3. Teenage Dreams [Explored], 4. Show Me Your Colours, 5. Fancy, 6. lightwire, 7. synchrodogs, 8. Das Unheimliche, Sara Rees., 9. Anne Harrison (Moss) :Photo by Richard Simm Norton Street and 40 Islington Liverpool, 10. Buon Natale, 11. Leones marinos, 12. GALAXY COUNSEL, 13. The time traveler., 14. feathery seedpods, 15. beaver .. meet toothbrush., 16. Stacey Rozich at Sky High Gallery, 17. Red barn, 18. natural waters, 19. outtake, 20. curiosity, 21. 38/100?, 22. In the garden today, 23. Little Red Riding Hood (new version), 24. :: sprouting ::, 25. Untitled

Latest flickr inspiration. Cool wintery hues. Mysterious whimsical women. Nature's magic. A thin warm veil of burnt umber and rich earth.

Art in the Street (in a gallery)...

2011-07-05T08:32:00.000+10:00

I didn't see a whole lot of art while I was in America. Before leaving I was so excited to see everything that I could, but in being there, if I had a choice, I'd generally choose the great outdoors over the stark, cool interior of an art gallery. Still, we attended some fantastic galleries and shows and when the rules allowed for it I made sure to take plenty of photographs. The first big blockbuster show I was able to photograph was the Art in the Streets exhibition at MOCA, held in the Geffen Contemporary building in LA. I wasn't overly enthused about seeing this show to begin with, but in walking into the gallery space I knew that we were in for a treat. The space was huge - the size of two large warehouses and it was chock-a-block full of art. Perhaps too much so as I sometimes felt that I was at a street art jumble sale. But still, it was a visual feast and I was introduced to some pretty phenomenal work, much of which had a strong conceptual basis. This wasn't just a show of tags and graffiti, but an exhibition that traced the rise and history of street art in all of its various guises.

I don't know the names of all of the artists presented here, but these works were some of my favourites:

Click on images to see them larger!

There were a couple of pieces by Banksy that really didn't shine in the gallery space, after all his work is made for the streets and its place defines the context. But seeing the work below within a gallery fills it with a wonderful irony. We had a good chuckle.

I think this piece below was my favourite work in the whole exhibition. The artist, Erik Brunetti, collected lost animal posters off of the streets over a period of many years. It was a striking work, and I found it far more provocative than any of the candid street life photos in the exhibition. So much hope followed by so much loss. Simply put, it made me feel sad.

Oh, and then there was this wonderful paper sculpture by Swoon. It filled a whole room with its papery, delicate lightness and provided a beautiful contrast to the heavier handed, denser and more 'masculine' works in the show. The combination of cut paper and light filled the installation space with soft complex shadows. It was magic.

Criticisms? I guess it's always going to be difficult presenting a street art exhibition inside a building. Context is stripped from many works by placing them inside the gallery. Or perhaps the works are given a new context, which paradoxically becomes less about the street and more about the gallery. The gallery is too clean, and where streets and city grunge are created or alluded to it becomes about a kind of artifice. To me, this exhibition was saying that the art establishment has started to embrace (and commodify) street art - yes, there was a gift store and it was stocked with very trendy items, branded and fit for consumption.

There was, as always, a large lack of women artists. However I can understand that street art history has been dominated by men. Here's a brief video discussion about the lack of female representation in the streets put together by a friendly sponsor:

More images HERE.

Home is where the art is...

2011-07-04T17:53:00.000+10:00

No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one.

~ Elbert Hubbard.

This is so very true. It's amazing how quickly that the routine you left behind grips you on your return. I have been home just 6 days now and I already long to be back on the road, wandering strange lands with sketchy plans that change on a whim. I miss Damien, the hearse, who was such a wonderful companion on our journey. But I'm glad that we found him fantastic new owners who have big creative plans for him. I think Damien will be very happy with this sweet family:

Aren't they the cutest? They plan on converting Damien into some kind of ice-cream van. I can't even imagine it! How hilarious!

I've heard people speak of the post-holiday blues and I think I have a pretty severe case of them right now. I miss the freedom that came with living out of a suitcase and I enjoyed being anonymous in an unfamiliar land. I didn't have to make any plans, fulfil any expectations, make goals, or justify the use of my time. But all that is over now and I'm loathe to accept it. Still, one must look on the bright side. And the bright side really is very bright indeed. Now I have plenty of time to attend to the work I made whilst I was away. I've had three months of separation from the work I made in Banff and I'm looking forward to familiarising myself with it again. A few images are currently on display on this new site:

twelve-one

Apart from that I will be focussing on making new work and on future plans. Once again I find myself at a crossroads where I ask, "what next?" What next indeed! I've been putting off thinking about it, but without some kind of goal I'll just float around in this fluffy little bubble called life. I'd like to latch onto some kind of trajectory. The difficult part is trying to work out in what direction to take those first tentative steps. Maybe I'll leave worrying about it for another week or two...just until I've shaken off the last of these post-holiday blues.

Yellowstone Part 2: Into the Wild

2011-06-24T17:02:00.000+10:00

There are no words that can tell the hidden spirit of the wilderness, that can reveal its mystery, its melancholy, and its charm.

~Theodore Roosevelt.

Wildlife abounds in Yellowstone. Just driving through the park we saw numerous bison, mule deer, elk, ground squirrels and chipmunks. But we also got to see some more elusive creatures, including black bears, a yellow bellied marmot, a wolf (which ran across the road right in front of us!), a bighorn sheep and, the ‘piece de resistance’, a grizzly bear! I was convinced that we were going to see a grizzly on our Yellowstone visit, but on our last afternoon with no sightings I was starting to give up hope. Driving along the lake, I asked Ben if bears could swim. His answer was ‘of course.’ Less than five minutes later we were crossing a bridge over an inlet when I saw a bulky brown blob tread stealthily out of the forest. I nearly jumped out of my seat with excitement. Ben stopped the car and we stood on the bridge and watched as the great furry creature walked straight up to the base of the bridge, took a good look at us and then proceeded to swim across the inlet and disappear into the forest on the other side. It was perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better sighting.

Then, only 15 minutes later, I spotted a beaver in a small pond off of the Yellowstone river.

Bison were everywhere! They'd walk along the roadside totally unfazed by the passing cars. We saw great herds of them on the plains, and being spring there were many cows with calves. So cute! Also little chipmunks and ground squirrels were running about all over the place:

It was also the most perfect time of year for viewing wildflowers. Even though it was unusually cold for this time of year, they were still so plentiful and pretty:

Yellowstone Part 1: Welcome to Wonderland

2011-06-24T02:48:00.000+10:00

We saved the best for last. Yellowstone National Park is one of those iconic places, known globally as one of the last truly wild places on earth. As the world’s first National Park, World Heritage Site and Biosphere Reserve, it certainly lives up to its reputation. There aren’t enough superlatives to describe Yellowstone and I’m finding it difficult to write about it without reeling off what sound like a list of platitudes. So forgive me if I sound like I’m exaggerating or being unnecessarily saccharine. I’m not. I assure you that my enthusiasm for the place is sincere.

Yellowstone is literally breathtakingly beautiful. It is true that I’m an emotional pushover (and sometime wreck!), but to be so moved by a place is rare. There were moments where I’d be looking at the view in front of me and scarcely be able to believe that it was real. The grandeur of the scenery and vastness of the place was humbling. Photos can’t do it justice. At least, mine can’t. But words aren’t working for me right now. How does one adequately describe this:

There was so much to see in Yellowstone and we packed as much into the three days we had there as we could whilst still making sure to stop and appreciate the entirety of the place at work. After all, we were inside one of the most in tact wild ecosystems on the planet. Reminders of this were everywhere. There were also many reminders of the fragility of the earth and our place on it. Geysers and hot springs, mud pots and steam pools hissed and bubbled all over the Yellowstone caldera. Underneath us, deep within the heart of the planet, the pressure inside the earth was building, set to one day explode. Yellowstone is essentially one big dormant (though snoring!) volcano. It is a beautiful sleeping giant.

The Wild West of Wyoming...

2011-06-18T01:44:00.001+10:00

We've spent the past two days driving at a leisurely pace through some of the most isolated places we've been to yet. We're in Wyoming, the state that is home to Yellowstone National Park. We didn't realise that there is so much more to see here and the drive through this beautiful state has been filled with awesome scenery and natural wonders. Our first stop was Devil's Tower, a sweeping stone monolith that soars above the wooded forests which surround it. Devil's Tower was America's very first national monument and was featured in the film 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind'. It is truly awesome, menacing and surreal, all at the same time. Prayer ribbons strung from the tree branches around the base of the tower brought home that this site is still very sacred to the local Native Americans.

Spread out at the base of the tower was an open field which played host to a whole city of cheeky prairie dogs. I love these animals and their crazy frenetic energy. They're so darn cute that I could hardly stand it! We spent a good long while observing their antics and laughing at their silly games.

We then headed further west pushing onwards over the Windy Mountains towards Yellowstone. The mountain pass took us on a gradual incline through meadows filled with the most amazing display of wildflowers I've ever seen. I just had to get out of the car and lie down in the grass. I watched a lot of 'Little House on the Prairie' when I was a wee lass and it makes you do these things, you know, romanticise about lying in fields of wildflowers. Dream fulfilled. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. I had the perfect wildflower field lying outfit on too. *sigh*

There was still snow on the mountains and lots of it! The streams and rivers were bursting with water produced from the snow melt already and there was flooding at the base of the mountains. It was all very wild and reminded me a lot of those disney tele-series I used to watch about American Pioneer families when I was very young. While breathtaking there was a sense that this land could be incredibly hostile at times.

Once at the base of the mountains the strangest thing happened - the landscape changed dramatically into something that resembled the arid hills of arizona. Rolling hills scarred with red cracks and crevices stretched out before us and ended at the horizon where violet snow capped peaks loomed in the distance. But the colours were incredible - so soft, almost pastel. I took some photos out of the car window.

Now we're in a place called Cody, Rodeo capital of the whole wide world! We went and saw some bronco and bull riding fun last night. Those cowboys are darn mad if you ask me! We're about to head off to Yellowstone for the last camping trip of our adventure. Apparently it has been snowing there and the nights are freezing...brrrrr. But enduring the cold is going to be worth it, I just know it! See you on the flip side with lots of photos I'm sure.

Far West South Dakota - a land of strange delights...

2011-06-17T10:20:00.000+10:00

After conquering most of the drive from east to west South Dakota we entered the strange, otherworldly landscape of Badlands National Park. It was like a reward for enduring the monotony of the landscape for the past 700 miles! Badlands might be the most surreal landscape I've ever seen. It was like being on another planet, and indeed, it has been described as the closest landscape to the moon's on earth. But that doesn't mean it is barren, no way! We saw prairie dogs, mountain goats, American antelope, deer and rabbits on our drive through the park. It was just like being in a nature documentary. There was no need to get off the beaten track - it was all right there in front of us. The weather was gloomy and wild and we got wet on our hikes through the strange world of the Badlands but it only added to the mysterious air that hung over the place.

From Badlands we kept heading west towards the iconic Mt Rushmore. Impressive as it is, in regards to the engineering of its construction, I was kind of underwhelmed. Which is to say that I thought it was bigger! Haha. It's just that every time I've seen it on television it has looked as big as a whole mountain. To be fair, the sculpture really is exceptionally large - each head measuring approximately 18 metres in height - and it looks quite strange sitting within the landscape of the Black Hills. A cursory read of the history of Mt Rushmore on Wikipedia exposes some nasty and shameful truths about the use of the site - it being 'stolen' from the local Native American peoples in the late 1800's. Furthermore, the sculptor who designed the work and chose the four presidents to be represented, was known to be sympathetic to the ideologies of the Klu Klux Klan.

But never fear! Only 20 miles or so away from Mt Rushmore a group of local Native American elders organised for the carving of their own monument - the Crazy Horse Memorial. The head in the image below took 50 years to carve! But when completed (it could take hundreds of years) this will be the largest mountain carving in the world, towering about 100 feet over Mt Rushmore. I really enjoyed my visit here, learning about the family working on the mountain and local Native American culture. It was one of those unexpected places that you learn about whilst on the road. I had no idea that this monument was being built, and the vision behind it and the commitment to its construction was rather inspiring. Still, to be fair, there is controversy over its construction within the Native American community, with some believing that it is exploitative of Sioux culture and an affront, rather than a memorial, to the memory of Crazy Horse. In any case, it was an interesting place to be and experience on our travels through South Dakota.

On the road again...

2011-06-17T02:25:00.000+10:00

This past week we've been on the road every day, smashing down long stretches of highway in order to make it back to the West Coast. Well, actually, we'll be stopping in at Yellowstone for a three day stretch along the way - the last 'hurrah', so to speak. It hasn't been all driving though, we've made sure to stop at places of interest along the way. It's just that our usual habit of 'hanging around' has been transformed into something more like pure and simple sightseeing.

Our first stop was Niagara Falls. It was darn impressive. A hell of a lot of water gushes over those falls - apparently it's something like a million bathtubs full a second! Wowsers! You can certainly feel the fury of the falls standing at their edge. Benny took the little boat trip to the bottom of the falls, but I traded that in for a sleep-in and a nice long session with some paper and ink. This little artist gets a bit shirty if she hasn't had some creative time in a while. It sounds so cliche, but it's true.

We stayed on the Canada side of Niagara Falls and drove through the bottom of Ontario, along the Great Lakes, and back into the States at Detroit. Detroit was mighty depressing and a bit of a mess. Abandoned buildings, graffiti covered walls, smashed windows, and unkept roads. None of the traffic lights worked in the city and there were no police to direct traffic. It was odd. It reminded me a bit of Bangkok which still shows the remnants of an economy that collapsed in the mid 1980's. So, we kept heading west towards Chicago, which in great contrast to Detroit, is a city of much wealth. Chicago is one of those cities I'd never thought much about, but it's incredibly beautiful and lively. So much prettier than either LA or New York and with absolutely everything those cities boast about. It even has a beautiful beach! The only drawback would be the weather - it was miserable and foggy while we were there and apparently it's windy and cold much of the year (hence the term 'windy city'), but you know, Chicago to me was a very nice surprise.

On leaving Chicago we made a stop in at Freeport Illinois to visit a beautiful creative soul I met online through a friend. It's so nice to meet people on the road - it helps to connect with a place. Amy was great, and she taught me how to fly! Here is Amy's website and blog. I wish we'd had more time to hang out. But onwards we marched, through the rest of Illinois and into South Dakota. Oh goodness! The trek through South Dakota was so long and arduous. The landscape was dominated by field after field after field. Barns, silos and farmhouses broke the monotony, but even they began to flicker past us as mere glitches in the landscape. The sky looked like a large dome above us. It was strange and sleep inducing - uncanny is probably the best word for it. Think 'Children of the Corn' and you'll know what i mean.

I've taken to journalling in the passenger seat, cutting and pasting, sketching and scribbling down little memories or points of interest along the way. The loooong drive through South Dakota required something other than staring out the window as entertainment, and though I've had to put aside some of my neat freak tendencies, I've found it a good way to pass the time. My journal has become like my studio on this trip and it contains every little morsel of creative expression I've had the time to muster... I still marvel at the possibilities contained within a blank book.

Back to the garden...

2011-06-11T01:22:00.000+10:00

We are stardust. We are golden. And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

~Joni Mitchell ('Woodstock').

The night before we left New York, the movie Taking Woodstock came on TV while we were flicking through the channels. "Hey, let's go to Woodstock tomorrow!" I declared. "Yeah, let's do it," is Benny's reply. Luckily we payed enough attention to the film to realise that the music festival wasn't actually near the town of Woodstock, but about 100 miles away in the Catskills just outside the quaint little town of Bethel, NY.

The drive to Bethel was beautiful - green rolling fields, forested hills, wild deer foraging in meadows, daisies and dandelions blooming along the roadside. We wound down the windows and breathed it all in as we passed by, and the city grime slipped away from us as quickly as it had found us. We settled down to dinner in the beautiful hamlet of White Lake, watched the sun set over the town's namesake and decided to try and find the original site in the morning.

Turns out that the site isn't all that difficult to find as it still hosts music festivals today. The fields in Yasgur's farm that were the site of the original festival is now called the Bethel Woods Centre for the Arts and an impressive list of artists have played there. The site itself is just as I imagined - a large sloping field of lush green grass surrounded by more beautiful fields and dense woodlands. We spent a good half hour there taking photos and being clowns, imagining that we were part of the brilliance that took place in 1969. A tab of acid, a mudslide and some Hendrix might have helped authenticate our imaginings, but we felt the spirit of the music, love and chaos all the same.

Peace out hippies!

Here's my favourite song about Woodstock by an artist who wasn't even there!

And one of my favourite performances of the festival:

New York, New Yaaawwwwwkkkk!

2011-06-10T01:41:00.000+10:00

Welcome to New York! At peak hour! Two hours to go 3 miles. Ouch. Yes, we’re in the big city now.

The smallest hotel room I’ve ever seen in the narrowest building I’ve ever been inside. Horns, sirens, shady looking characters leaning against walls, garbage bags piled high on the sidewalk, chaos, confusion, a headache. This was my introduction to New York. So, of course, we hit a bar, got drunk and made friends with people, and all was well with the world. I moved on… New York started to look better. I drank away my initial fears and after a lengthy sleep-in the next morning, I hit the streets, BJ in hand, and embraced the city of dreams.

We didn’t have enough time in New York to do everything we wanted to. But you know, I don’t think we’d ever have enough time. We played ‘tourist’ here in a big way – visiting all of those places that you are meant to – Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, The Met, Moma, Central Park and taking in a show on Broadway – but we also dedicated quite a lot of time to simply wandering the streets. This meant that we had to give up some of the expected tourist traps, but I for one didn’t mind a bit.

There were things I disliked about New York, the biggest being the smell of piss and shit that permeated the streets. I think I have a very refined sense of smell because at times people swore to me that they couldn’t detect it. For me, it was everywhere! Except in Central Park, which provided me with some relief. Central Park where the air is sweet! Ben thinks it’s because of all the pet dogs that have nowhere else to do their doggy business – he might be right. These are the things that people neglect to tell you about a place.

But of course, New York is fabulous, vibrant and so very alive! What people say is true – there is a sense that anything is possible here. I loved the diversity of people, the juxtaposition of old and new architecture, the mixed-up, jalopy style mash-up of grunge and chic. I loved the sensible numbering of streets which made it easy to navigate around a city that has the potential to swallow you whole. I detested the garish display of consumerism evident in massive conglomerations of billboards, but I still spent my money on things that I don’t need and enjoyed it immensely. The traffic was chaotic and driving in it was a little bit terrifying, however we made it out alive and for that I am very grateful.

There is one thing I loved about New York above all else, something that no one has ever told me about. A secret magical time of day when the universe reveals itself to those consumed with life inside the capsule of the city, reminding them that the world is bigger than themselves. Dusk. Just before the sun disappears behind the horizon the streets perpendicular to the evening display light up in the most amazingly beautiful way. Light bounces off of the sombre brown walls of the high rises and sets the streets ablaze.

And of course, there was the art. But I'll save that for another time...

Life inside the museum...

2011-06-02T14:04:00.000+10:00

I seldom go into a natural history museum without feeling as if I were attending a funeral.

~ John Burroughs.

Thankfully, I don't feel the same way. Death is a process, not an object. And a funeral is a solemn ritual that bears little resemblance to the curious, inquisitive and life-affirming, educative environment inside a natural history museum. Anyone who knows me is aware of my love of some of the inanimate objects that are a result of death. Bones, fur, feathers, scales, teeth and leather appeal to my senses, both in terms of their tactility and in regard to the talismanic and fetishistic potency inherent in such objects. A natural history museum is, for me, the best kind of wunderkammer. Sure, objects are often entombed behind perspex and glass, but from their stillness we can learn so much about life.

I was fortunate enough to spend today inside one of the best natural history museums in the world, the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. It was wonderful. I felt like a child amidst the dioramas, skeletons and veritable Noah's Ark of taxidermy creatures. From aardvarks to zebras, they had it all. I wasn't alone in my wonder - I heard so many grown adults 'oooh', 'aaaah' and 'wow!' in delight. We spent many hours wandering the maze of exhibitions and displays and I took hundreds of photos to archive for future use. This is the third natural history museum I've visited in the past 12 months (the other two being in Sydney and Banff) and I've enjoyed my time inside each one equally. There is nothing about them that makes me feel as though I'm attending a funeral. But then, I have spent most of the past 2 and a half months inside a hearse!

From sea to shining sea...

2011-06-01T13:10:00.000+10:00

Well, we've made it from the West coast to the East coast totally unscathed, except for a bit of liver damage and weight gain (they like to feed you in the South!). A couple of days ago we caught our first glimpse of sunlight sparkle on the Atlantic ocean. I wish I could tell you that it was something remarkable, but it really wasn't. I don't know what I was expecting but the parts of the east coast that we've seen thus far aren't really all that pretty. To be fair we did skip Florida in order to make it to Yellowstone before we head home, and everyone has told us that the best beaches are there. And, as Ben keeps telling me, we're just spoilt for coastal beauty at home. Still, a lack of coastal beauty doesn't stop the locals from enjoying the beach. We thought we'd go to a state park for a bit of quiet beach time, but we were dreaming. Literally thousands of people swamped the sand - it was like nothing I've ever seen before, not even at Surfer's Paradise, and we all know how busy that can be. Admittedly, it was Memorial Day weekend (a long weekend) and we had been warned that every American and his dog likes to hit the coastline. Still, I was rather amazed.

Instead of trying to resist the crowds we decided to embrace them, so we headed for Ocean City. Neither of us had heard of this place before. I'm not really sure why not because it is quite the tourist mecca. Think of a seaside sideshow alley and that pretty much sums it up. It was kind of wild. By day the beach is crowded with bodies, towels and umbrellas and by night the boardwalk becomes an ocean of people all looking for a good time. We spent far too much money on a horrible hotel room and ate copious amounts of seafood. And in order to say that we truly experienced the place we spent our last night in Ocean City getting irresponsibly drunk at a boardwalk bar with a bunch of fabulous Maryland locals. Actually, shit-faced drunk is probably a more accurate description.

So, we didn't really get our quiet beachside retreat, but that's ok. What we got was unabashedly American and that's what we're here for right? I can't help but love the madness, in small doses.