Repeated ThemeRecurring Dream

Annual Reflection...

2011-12-31T21:41:00.003+11:00

Not much to say really. The end of another year has come, tomorrow sees the first day of 2012.

On a personal note, I achieved more than I did in 2010. That's a positive.

I have a few resolutions for 2012, but rather than say them, I might actually just do them.

Happy New Year.

Where has the year gone?

2011-10-04T14:23:00.009+11:00

It's so cliché, I know... but every year really does seem to go by more rapidly than the last.

I just noticed that I have not blogged since July... It's now October! It does not feel like that long ago I was burning the candle at both ends trying to get work finished for my exhibition at 19 Karen, (that has now been and gone).

I even thought I had already posted a few images from the opening and some installation shots... I was wrong. Therefore, I shall do so now.

Thanks again to Terri, Katy and all at 19 Karen for their support and hard work.

Palettes in Progress...

2011-07-30T10:54:00.004+10:00

Yesterday...

2011-07-29T12:21:00.010+10:00

28 July. It was on this day 2 years ago that I watched my dear grandfather depart this earth. It’s hard to believe it has been 2 years already. It does not feel like that long ago I was repeating myself to him several times because his hearing was bad… or that I was laughing with him because he was such a funny and dear old man who kept his sense of humour despite experiencing the onset of dementia… All my memories of him are still vividly clear… and, for the most part, joyful.

My mother recently visited my nan, (her mum), and spoke in great detail to me about the concerns she had for her. My grandmother, as expected, has just not been the same since losing her partner of 62 years. Despite being very mentally alert, her physical health and quality of life has been on a steady decline since even before my grandfathers passing. She will turn 88 next month… a fair innings… but she has confessed that she feels her time to go is fast approaching and she is not afraid of death claiming her, only perhaps of how it may do so – and when and where. Ultimately she would like to go peacefully in her sleep – in a perfect world we’d all live a long and fruitful life, and somewhere between 85 and 95 drift off into an eternal slumber without any complications… However, life can be cruel… and growing old can be even more so.

Until two years ago, my grandmother was a fighter. We came close to losing her a couple of times with various bowel operations and the complications that followed. She has had more knee replacements and operations than an entire football team and arthritis has crippled parts of her aging body for years… but she refused to give up – perhaps because she was concerned that my grandfather would not cope without her… subsequently, it is now her who cannot cope without him… or quite simply, just does not want to.

How does one ‘cope’ or find a ‘new lease on life’ after all they have known for the past 6 decades suddenly vanishes? If she was half her weight and effortlessly mobile, things may be different – she could tend to her garden, (which was always a passion of hers), but all she manages to do in her quaint little garden now is fall over in it. She has had 4 falls in the last few months which has slowly demolished any ounce of physical confidence that may have remained and left her with a fear of even contemplating doing one of the only things left that she loves. She now rarely even sets foot outside if she is alone – so unless my uncle or another family member is over, she is confined to a room full of heartbreaking memories and a deafening silence that penetrates her existence.

She does not deny that she has been lucky. She spoke of her younger brother who died in his forties, her sister who died as an infant and all the loved ones she has outlived and grieved for. She has watched people she loved suffer and in turn suffer with them – she has seen a lot of life and death. She is not after sympathy. She doesn’t even complain the way she used to about her failing body. I believe she just wants out. She has done everything she wanted to do and is grateful for the life she has had, but now has no real desire for anything anymore.

She left her home and her family in Germany when she was so young, and came to Australia with one man by her side… and he was by her side for 62 years. Most of us will never know what that would or could be like.

In recent weeks… months… I have been busy preparing for an exhibition at 19 Karen on the Gold Coast and have not had time for much else other than my two ‘jobs’… work and art… I see very little of my partner, despite living together and even less of my family as we are spread out across the state.

I had to deliver some paintings to a depot in Melbourne yesterday and was chasing my tail for time a little and although in my mind I had planned to go and visit my nan after delivering the work, I suddenly had a thought yesterday morning that perhaps I’d wait until I had a full day off with no other commitments to visit her…. Just as I had that thought a photo of my grandfather fell off the bookcase and onto the floor in front of me… I picked it up… it was the card from his funeral – Boris Bolotin, 3 March 1922 ~ 28 July 2009. I looked at my phone. It was the 28 July. I then looked at the photograph of him and into his eyes and said “ok Opa, I’ll go and visit her today”.

I’m glad I did.

It was a rather surreal day at times yesterday as my travels even saw me drive past the Austin hospital, where my grandfather drew his last breath two years ago… then on to my nan’s place as I also did that day… it brought back a tonne of sorrowful memories but after leaving nan’s I shook them up with just as many happy ones. By the time I was close to home I felt emotionally exhausted!

The day he died, I travelled that same road… it felt like the longest drive ever despite being only just over 1.5 hours. I remember feeling numb and not knowing how I should act in front of my partner when I got home as he lost both his parents to cancer within 6 months of each other when he was in his early twenties. My grandfather lived to 87.

I remember stopping off at my work on the way home. I had been rostered on to work that day but got a phone call regarding my grandfather early that morning and knew I had to go and be with him. When I stopped in on the way home they all knew what had happened. Without too many words, I was comforted by a line of people at the bar. The song from Cheers kept playing in my head… and for that moment, it was nice to be in a ‘place where everybody knew my name’. A group of friends and acquaintances joined me in a vodka shot salute to Boris. Something did change in me that day.

The following year, 2010, found me working elsewhere, however, again on that day – 28 July, I stopped in to the bar where everybody still knew my name and shared an annual vodka shot salute to Boris.

After experiencing a roller coaster of emotions on the drive home yesterday, I was almost home and despite feeling somewhat drained I was in a fairly good place, when a song came on and triggered something as tears began to uncontrollably stream down my face. I’d already decided that I was going to stop in for my vodka shot on the way home but had not intended to enter with red eyes. Coincidentally a number of people who were there that night 2 years ago were there again and I only had to hint at why I was there before the vodka shots flowed freely and everyone raised their glass “to Boris!”

Prost!

Re-Acquainting with an old love...

2011-06-19T12:12:00.004+10:00

I have recently rediscovered, or should I say re-ignited, my passion for the pen!

When I first started exhibiting my art, many moons ago, I started with only pen and ink works and pieces done with pencil/graphite. I did not graduate to acrylics until I was in the second half of my twenties - and since then (for over ten years!), acrylic has been the dominant medium in my work.

I have experimented with different styles, but having such a grounding in graphic design and illustration, and being a control freak with my brush, my work has always come back to fine lines and intricate detail. The pen allows one to master these things with ease... all that is then needed is patience... and (free) time! If only I had more of the latter!

The Coast and Canines...

2011-06-07T21:33:00.021+10:00

I arrived back home from the Gold Coast yesterday afternoon. It was a short trip - a brief two night stay in Mermaid Beach, a part of the world I had never seen - to attend the opening of Homage to Frida at 19 Karen, where three of my works are hanging as part of this large group exhibition.

I traveled alone - I often do when it's art related - and managed to fly without the assistance of xanax... although I did have two gin and tonics in a very short space of time on both the flight up and the flight back. It may be famous for being quite a depressant but it sure as hell eases my in flight anxiety... even if it is only a 1.5 - 2 hour journey!

The opening at 19 Karen was enjoyable but for the most part I felt like I was not really present. It felt somewhat surreal - but not in a bad way. I was not in the most sociable of moods so I spoke to only a select few people... the majority of my time there was spent silently wandering and perusing the modern warehouse-style space that is 19 Karen... tequila sunrise in hand.

I really love the space, and considering I am due to have a solo there in August, it was nice to finally see the layout of the place.

I did happen to meet, in person, (after knowing each other online through our artwork and social and artistic connections), Queensland artist Nic Plowman, whose work I have admired since first seeing it a few years ago.

One of my three works sold on the night. It was my personal favourite of the works I had created for the exhibition. It was a pen and ink piece titled "Elementos de Frida", (pictured above). I'm not embarrassed to say that I still get a kick out of seeing a red sticker going up on one of my works. What I also enjoy is observing people as they view my work... be it briefly or more contemplative, it always fascinates me. I only wished that my works had somehow been wired to an earpiece so I could hear any dialogue in reference to any or all of my works. There was a Mexican style band playing on the night, and despite them being very good and creating a great atmosphere, it made it impossible for me to eavesdrop whilst standing near my own work. Short of standing on the toes of anyone who viewed my work, there was no way of hearing what was being said as they pointed and or took closer and longer looks at my work. I did notice though that the detail in the pen and ink work seemed to capture people's attention enough for them to take a closer look and to find that it was not digital but hand generated artwork, which I think definitely worked in it's favour.

The thing about creating the works for a heavily themed exhibition is that whatever doesn't sell during "Homage to Frida" will have very little relevance once the show concludes as they were specifically created for this theme alone. I did, however, really enjoy creating these Frida inspired works and using diverse styles and techniques for each work.

I must also confess that I actually enjoyed my brief visit to the Gold Coast a lot more than I thought I would. I had no expectations of the place before traveling there and was pleasantly surprised by how much I 'liked' the area. At one point I even found myself daydreaming about owning a beachside mansion in Broadbeach... but then again - who wouldn't want to daydream about that! Some of the properties along Hedges Avenue and surrounds were just amazing and in some ways insane. It really is another world.

The weather, although I am not a real Summery or sun person, was just perfect. Given it is the start of Winter, 23 degree days are my ideal... and the nights were perfectly mild and fit for el fresco dining. I could have easily stayed another 4 or 5 nights... or longer. I some ways, parts of the Gold Coast reminded me of my time in Singapore... and even certain parts of Japan. One thing is for certain, as a general rule, the lifestyle up there does seem far more relaxed than down south.

In other news, since my last entry, my dog Teak had puppies. It was a somewhat traumatic experience as her labour was quite complicated and she did not take to the whole series of events very well or very naturally so after a sleepless night for both her and myself I took her to the vet. She's been pregnant with six puppies, three of which were born dead and the three that survived were, so I was told, quite massive. Two boys and a girl. The mother Teak (top photo) is a brown and white border collie and the father, Kip (bottom photo), who is also ours, is a brown kelpie with a tiny bit of white on his collar... the 3 puppies all have his colouring and markings and are incredibly cute. They are now almost 4 weeks old and full of beans! As we also have three adult dogs, it is fair to say that our house, at present, is rather chaotic!

Fumbling and Freestyling with Frida...

2011-04-17T12:59:00.002+10:00

Still in Frida mode...

I need to manage my time better.

Friends, Foes and Fetishes

2011-03-23T18:14:00.004+11:00

I usually shy away from the sun, or become slightly angered by it when it hits my skin whilst driving – however today I sat in it purposefully for a good hour… it was the morning sun, not at all harsh. There was an energy there that felt good

Whilst I don’t necessarily succumb to any sort of character labelling, I’ve often been told if a hippy merged with a goth you’d get me. However, and I laugh - I am not sure where my recent shoe fetish fits in…

Perhaps I could say – tongue in cheek- that I was more in touch with the hippy than the goth today as I even found myself stepping outside, once home, several times to mindlessly throw the ball for the dogs and soak up some vitamin D. Maybe it was due to the conversation I’d overheard earlier whilst out in the sun sipping on my – wait for it – soy chai.

It was impossible to not hear the conversation of a plutonic man and woman who sat across from me. We were the only three people at the table.

They discussed mostly her intimate relationship troubles and triumphs, and the questions and concerns relating to them, also new beginnings and spiritual journeys, self-discovery and growth, ashrams and, of course, the recent Super moon.

She was younger and more frenetic, attractive, and obviously in need of a coffee date with her older, calmer and perhaps wiser friend. He had a bit of a ‘been there, done that and now I am in a better place’ thing going on. He listened far more than he spoke, and when he did speak he spoke with clarity and compassion.

The conversation seemed to flow freely with me sitting in earshot but at times I felt somewhat awkward, the sun, however, felt comfortable, warm and non intrusive.

I grew quite fond of both of them whilst sitting there and when I did leave, with them still chatting away, I could see that she already felt more at ease than she did when they first sat down.

It stressed, in my mind, the importance of good friends and good listeners, and also that the only person that can really solve one’s own problems – is oneself. Although it does often help hearing yourself say things out loud to another person - to watch their reaction and listen to their response and thoughts on a particular matter.

Perhaps if I really did possess strong hippy-esque qualities I might link the recent natural disasters to something like the Super moon… then again, I might also be of the opinion that Mother Nature is just extremely pissed off with the way we humans are treating planet Earth… But, alas! I am neither a hippy nor a goth…. I am simply a girl in the world.

I like tags on my character as much as I like tags on my art, which is really not very much at all…. I like to think that just like my artwork, my character is open to interpretation…. I do not expect everyone to like it, or even to give it a chance or second thought but for those who do, I appreciate the fact that they look beyond the surface and find something they can engage in or relate to… in some cases things that also allow them to look inside themselves and ask their own questions…

Everything I write and or paint is in a sense a self-portrait… for it is always a form of self-expression.

Studio Day

2011-03-23T14:08:00.006+11:00

Some random images from the studio today...

Thinking about my home away from home...

2011-03-20T11:33:00.010+11:00

I don't really pray, but I am wishing and hoping incredibly hard that Japan 's crisis does not worsen and... without sounding insensitive towards the thousands upon thousands of lives that have been lost and deeply affected, that the people of Japan, in particular those in it's most devastated areas, can recover from this awful tragedy without having to fear things like simply drinking water!

In regards to radiation, I truly hope that a lot of what we are hearing through the media has been sensationalized.

A short post, yes... Simple, perhaps... but possibly one of the most heartfelt.

Homage after Hiatus

2011-03-15T17:49:00.008+11:00

Well, it has been a mad start to 2011.

I am finding it hard to comprehend where the first two months of the year disappeared to. It's almost like they somehow bypassed me, but I know I was there for them, during which time I turned 37 - (sometimes I feel I could say the same thing about the last 20 years)... but I have been present for them all.

I'm not as fearful of forty as I was a couple of years ago, though I would like to unpack my suitcase of dreams and ambitions that were packed away somewhere in my late twenties and have been sitting in storage for most of my thirties. If anything, with 40 being within smelling range, it has made me determined to pursue and achieve as many of those things as I can between now and the beginning a new (age) decade.

To commence, or perhaps continue, on this journey, I need to first find the road that leads to my studio. It's path has been somewhat obscured of late but I am slowly tidying things up in order to be able to see it more clearly.

My car wouldn't start today. At first I was a little irate about it, but that feeling dispersed rather quickly as I remembered what I had said to an eye-rolling, heavy sighing, nasty-muttering elderly lady yesterday as she was losing her patience with a checkout queue in Target... "at least we are not in Japan."

Of course, I love Japan, it is my second home, but my comment was a subtle yet direct reference to the recent earthquake and tsunami that has devastated far too large an area and population of a most beautiful country. I didn't feel any explanation was necessary, nor did anyone else around me say anything - but I know they all heard... and I can only hope that for a brief moment, the people in the queue, along with myself, stopped to consider perhaps how fortunate we really are and of course, how insignificant a slow service line really is!

I used the same thought principle in relation to my idle vehicle. Sure, I had a lot I wanted to get done today, but in hindsight, if I had done all these things, I may not have found myself back in my studio today enjoying the feeling of pens and brushes in my hand and paint on my feet!

It felt great. I felt happy. And before too long, I'd totally forgotten about my car and how I was going to fix it.

I have been asked to participate in a group exhibition titled, Homage to Frida (Kahlo) in June this year at 19 Karen on the Gold Coast. As she is one of my major influences I didn't hesitate to agree. I spent today browsing images of her and her works, scanning through her diary pages and reading a number of her better known quotes. It felt nice to be involved again!

And nice to, once again, be making marks.

Annual Reflection...

2010-12-31T20:48:00.004+11:00

Another year over.

I am sad to say, I did not achieve all I set out to achieve this year.

I am happy to say, I intend to pursue these ambitions in 2011.

My little reflection...

eleven eleven o ten

2010-11-11T09:41:00.000+11:00

Halloween Head.

2010-10-31T18:03:00.002+11:00

Taking Time before Making time...

2010-10-27T13:10:00.006+11:00

In relation to 'stopping and smelling the roses', I ventured outside in my own hometown last week only to be reminded that I had actually forgotten how truly beautiful it is.

I have vowed to make the most of it's beauty in the short period between now and holiday-maker hell.

It will be during that time I shall hibernate in my studio whilst the ignorant and arrogant populate and abuse this area's naturally picturesque and normally peaceful wonderland.

On the Road Again...

2010-10-06T20:34:00.014+11:00

I returned home late this afternoon from my 5th and 6th day off in 11 weeks, and the first two consecutive days off in over 3 months. My head and a piece of my heart told me to take the opportunity to get back into the studio and start planning some works for my 2011 exhibitions... a greater piece of my heart told me to get in the car and drive... and keep driving until I reach my parents place, just over the border, in New South Wales - so I did just that.

Although it was just a two day trip it felt longer. Partly due to the fact that Tuesday felt like Summer and today was on par with a stormy Winter's day, and partly because I'd forgotten what it felt like to have a proper 'weekend' - a whole TWO DAYS to do whatever I choose.

I chose wisely.

It just so happened that my 5th day off in 11 weeks fell on the 5th of October, which is my mother's birthday. I informed my father of my planned trip, but my mother had no idea, so the surprise made it even more worthwhile.

I was the last to leave my parent's house this morning, and as I did, I was overcome by a sudden wave of emotion that took me a little by surprise. It was quite short lived but did leave some residual impact. I must make time to visit again soon.

Driving back today, I decided to take the long way home and stopped off in Bendigo, and again in Castlemaine, taking advantage of the fact that there was no set agenda for the day.

The past two days were a reminder... to slow down occasionally and smell the roses... the flowers... or even the rain.

The Chop

2010-09-14T22:14:00.006+10:00

True to form, I have initiated a 'Spring Cleanse' by doing something either dramatic, spontaneous or both; this time it was chopping off all my hair.

For the first time in almost 20 years, I have nothing to hide behind.

... I'm still waiting for the feeling of so called liberation to set in! Perhaps after the initial shock has worn off..

Hiatus, Bronchitis and other things.

2010-09-02T12:20:00.010+10:00

Today I was forced to take my second day off 'work' work in 6 weeks.

My first was Tuesday of last week, when I drove to Melbourne to catch up with Andrew Chan, an artist friend of mine who was visiting from New York. Andrew and I exhibited together at Jackman Gallery in Melbourne some time ago. It was an enjoyable day, albeit somewhat rushed. I live a fair distance from the city centre so I don't travel there as often as I used to, or would like to.

I call it 'work' work because it has nothing to do with painting, or 'making art', other than the fact that in some way it will help me be able to afford the supplies I need to do so.

The past few months have created a number of extra financial woes and several weeks ago I took the opportunity to take on some extra work outside of painting and hospitality. This resulted in me working 7 days a week for close to 5 weeks until my day trip to Melbourne.

Today, I am home with a nasty cough that has gotten progressively worse over the last few days. After a sleepless night and several violent coughing fits, I managed to fall asleep this morning at around 6:30am, after turning my 7am alarm off. I re-awoke just after 9:30am and whilst my head was thinking about going in to work for a half day, my body would not allow it. My stubborn cerebellum had to surrender to my weary and continuously coughing corpus.

My painting hiatus has played on my mind every day over the past 6 weeks but I have been so physically busy that I've not had an opportunity to dwell. I am sitting only inches away from a tonne of art supplies but my fuel tank is empty. It's taking enough energy to type a blog entry. Although I am well aware this is just another one of those temporary pauses, I do feel a sense of both guilt and frustration that I am not in a position to offer the attention my art desires.

Sometimes in life we are forced to just stop and rest for a while, even if it is against our will or our ethics. It's against both for me but I'm doing it anyway!

Art for a Cause.

2010-08-22T13:16:00.006+10:00

Several months ago, I was invited to participate in a Screamdance project titled Schaffas 2.

Adelaideans Sam Barratt & Chris Edser (Screamdance), hand-picked art-friends from all over the world to customize their own breed of schaffas. They were each sent a similar blank shape and given free reign to add, subtract, paint or destroy these objects.

I received my blank Schaffas sometime in January. I contemplated for a number of months as it sat on a bench next to Matryoshka and Kokeshi dolls in my studio.

It looked like this.

After a lot of time spent staring at this naked wooden creature, Shinjuku Schaffas-San was born.

Unfortunately, I did not make it to Adelaide for the great unveiling of the Schaffas 2 creations, however, they were all made available for viewing online here.

I am happy to say that Shinjuku Schaffas-San found herself a new home, and all proceeds from the sale of the Schaffas went to a wonderful Oxfam cause: Close the Gap.

Thank you to Sam and Chris for organising such a fun event for a great cause.

Schaffas 2, the book, can be purchased from the Screamdance website.

Golden Opportunity...

2010-07-31T08:56:00.002+10:00

Pardon the pun, but I couldn't resist the title.... and who knows, maybe it is.

I am determined to keep an open mind about any new galleries that approach me. If I feel some kind of rapport through initial communications with the gallery director/s then I am prepared to take a chance. I choose to see it as an opportunity - for both parties... but unlike any professional relationships in the past, there won't be two chances. One should be ample. I'm not speaking from a sales angle, I am referring to the way in which the artist, and their work, are treated during the relationship with a gallery.

After being contacted by a Gold Coast gallery on July 10, I am feeling a sense of optimism about entering a new relationship of this nature. I have agreed to be represented in Queensland by 19 Karen Contemporary Artspace, and have a scheduled group show, (June), and solo show, (August), for 2011.

The communication I have engaged in with Terri thus far has been somewhat refreshing. Her words have been encouraging, but her actions, to date, have promptly cemented my optimism.

BB and the Babushkas

2010-07-28T07:34:00.004+10:00

This time last year, I received what was possibly the worst phone call of my life to date. It was my mother. She was somewhere between southern Queensland and northern New South Wales, my grandfather was in Melbourne, at the Austin hospital. Mum was calling me to tell me he had suffered a severe stroke and was not expected to recover, doctors expected he would not see the day through. They were right.

On this day last year I watched my dear grandfather drift away into the unknown.

On this day last year, I had to make the hardest phone call I have yet to make. I had to call my mother and tell her that her father had taken his last breath and that she would not make it home in time to kiss him goodbye.

It was my first experience of such a situation. It is a vision I will never forget, but he lived a life full of wonderful things to remember... and celebrate.

Despite feeling the past 12 months have gone somewhat quickly, it seems hard to believe he has been gone that long. My memories feel much more recent and his name is still next to my nan's on my phone's contact list.

I have recently been celebrating his life, and influence on mine, through my painting. I'm sure he would have gotten a kick out of them.

In loving memory of BB. 3 March, 1922 - 28 July, 2009.

X

Fuck EOFYS.

2010-07-16T09:23:00.002+10:00

If I hear that term, (EOFYS), once more this week I think I might scream.

I don't go to the sales, not just because I don't have money to blow, but I hate crowds, especially ones that are full of people mindlessly and madly fighting to access then purchase things they don't even really need. To me, it's just a reminder to do my tax. In recent years, I've even ignored that, having submitted three years worth earlier this year - but, alas! I am actually organised this year... for the first time in a LONG time... and it feels pretty good.

My recent visit to see my parents proved to be a very positive exercise in many ways. Although the stay was very short, I came back with a fresh mind and renewed enthusiasm. I've changed my way of thinking about certain aspects of my life... or even just life, and am slowly putting thoughts into action - little by little.

So - It seems I am once again grabbing onto some sort of symbolism that relates to the time of year and new beginnings and blah, blah, blah... but I've learnt that I don't have to wait for any specific day or event to remember resolutions or make positive changes - I can start whenever I like. I even said goodbye to blonde this week. It took almost a year to get close to the desired colour, but the maintenance became tedious and expensive so I decided to abandon it. I was toying with the idea of shaving it all off but decided just to kill the light with darkness. (As opposed to trying to kill darkness with light in most other situations.)

I've been approached by a Gold Coast gallery this week about representation. I'm seriously considering the possibility as it is actually a gallery I have been watching for a little while and so far feel quite positive about what they do and the work they show.

I have my gallery in Perth to thank for restoring my faith in the system a little. I am sure they are the minority - but the important thing is: they do exist.

Road Trippin'

2010-06-30T19:25:00.018+10:00

I returned home today from a short stay, but most enjoyable road trip to Moama. It was a long overdue visit to see my parents.

I had not seen my mother since a friends wedding last November, and my father since September. It seems like an awfully long time but has somehow gone very quickly. It always sounds so cliché saying things like "I can't believe it's the end of June already", and "the years seem to go faster and faster as we get older", even though it really does feel this way. I honestly did not think it had been so long since I last visited my parents.

I had decided to go on a surprise visit, but when I missed my turn off and drove a fair bit further on the Hume Highway than necessary, I called my father to let him know I was on my way - the long way - and that I had hoped to arrive before midday and surprise my mother at the radio station, where she was doing a community on-air slot that day from 9am - midday. For a little while I was concerned I was not going to make it in time but I got there with 40 minutes to spare... and the surprise was a success.

Although my father was already aware I was on my way, it did not stop him from exhibiting emotion when I walked into the studio. Every time I see him I am reminded where I got my ridiculously emotional character from! It was quite moving though, and made me realise I should do it more often, (visit them that is, not cry). Four hours on the road is really not an excuse to avoid visiting people you love. I can't expect my father, at 77 years of age, to make regular trips of that distance, and my mother, who, even though she is a fair bit younger than dad, got her license quite late in life, thus her confidence on the road does not extend beyond her surrounding twin township of Echuca/Moama.

I went alone this time, or at least with no other human traveling companion... I did however take one of my dogs, (Teak), to fill that position, and she proved to be the perfect choice.

My father, who pretends to not really be a fan of dogs, (although secretly, he has a soft spot for them, especially well behaved female dogs, as they remind him of a German Shepard bitch he had, and adored, as a young adult), actually let her sleep inside next to me, which was completely unexpected. Anyone who knows my father would understand what a big thing that was!

That part of Australia really does have a certain charm to it. Taking a morning walk along the Murray, for me, is one of life's simple pleasures. It reminded me that traveling (itself) is the important thing, not whether it's an exotic or overseas destination, or a lengthy duration - although I do enjoy the opportunities when they arise - but the feeling of 'being on the road', of 'no set agenda' that is appealing and liberating.

Ah, the wide open road. There were a number of moments where I had such a strong desire to just keep driving... and driving...

...and driving.

Head versus Hand

2010-06-23T22:58:00.008+10:00

I read an interview with Rotraut Klein-Moquay, the widow of Yves Klein today. It was not all that in depth, but it was enough to trigger a few thoughts and emotions inside me. Since last writing, I have been re-visiting some of Sigmar Polke's work and once again finding it quite inspiring. After reading this interview today, I re-visited some of the work of Klein and also read a little more about him than I ever had before.

Although his work has never stood out in any brilliance to me, the process, evolution and construction of his work, (and life), is brilliantly inspiring. Sadly though, it was all cut short, Klein suffered a fatal heart attack at only 34.

I must say I spend A LOT of time on the internet... probably much more than I should, but in defense of all it's non-constructive distractions, and voyeuristic social networking, it does contain a plethora of information so widely and freely available that used to cost me a small fortune from the arts section at secondhand bookstores. It provides me with a 24 hour virtual gallery and bookstore, full of images and information on art and artists that was never accessible to me when I was at Art School, but has now become a great resource for me, (as an artist).

One thing that has surfaced with my recent 'internet viewing', is this current battle between my head and my hand. Whilst my head conjures up images that are free flowing, multi-layered and dynamic, my hand continues to paint these finely tuned, super-flat, graphic slash 'pop' images. I stare at my painting with a sense of bewilderment, wondering how my hand once again managed to trick my head, how these finely painted lines and highly detailed figures keep making their way onto the canvas when my head has other ideas. Often I am even convinced that my head is governing my hand because the work may start out one way... but then the hand takes over and the head must just surrender into some kind of auto-pilot mode.

It's not that I don't enjoy painting this particular style of work... it's just that I so desperately want to 'break out'... or break the mold, step outside the square for a little while.

I've even been trying to convince myself that after spending hours upon hours fine tuning a piece, re-working every line, that I should either sand it back or paint a white-wash over it so that it becomes not the final image, but merely the base layer of the work... but I deliberate, after considering just how long the work has taken to paint and get to the polished and detailed state that it's in.

There is a sense of freedom and even liberation that comes with creating work that is not so refined and 'confined'. Of course, there is also a sense of satisfaction that still comes with paitning graphic and slick images that require enormous amounts of patience - (part of the satisfaction is the fact I have actually found that much patience within me). However, many of my recent ideas do not lend themselves to the hard edged pop style of painting, so I need to find a way to release the tiger from its creative cage.

Above image: Yves Klein covers a naked model in blue paint to use as a 'living brush'.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehen...

2010-06-13T21:31:00.006+10:00

Another one gone this week.

I speak of the artist Sigmar Polke, yet another influential artist of my time and an inspirational figure to me, who passed away on June 10th. He was 69.

I have been fortunate enough in my travels to see quite a number of his works in the flesh, including a fantastic retrospective exhibition in 2004 - I think it was in New York.

"Polke for a long time has been the most interesting, least predictable of the painters around." critic and curator Robert Storr, 2007.

Ruhe in Frieden Sigmar Polke.

above image: Sigmar Polke, Kandinsdingsda, (Wir Kleinbürger), 1976.

Fingernails and Fairytales

2010-06-11T17:04:00.009+10:00

I'm watching Roman Holiday while my 3 dogs search the house for my lost, or misplaced, inspiration.

My inspiration is not so much lost as 'cluttered'... confused. My ideas are currently torn between those from the past and these of the present, between child and woman, between innocence and cynicism... I feel like I am hovering somewhere between Betty Boop and Bettie Paige!

Perhaps there need not be any conflict of interest inside my head. Maybe all these ideas can work harmoniously, (or otherwise), together...

"If I’m honest I have to tell you I still read fairy-tales and I like them best of all."
— Audrey Hepburn

Props for the Procrastinator

2010-06-10T22:13:00.004+10:00

Perfect.

...and a handful of relative Henry Moore quotes.

'It is a mistake for a sculptor or a painter to speak or write very often about his job. It releases tension needed for his work.'

'Art is not to do with the practical side of making a living. It's to live a fuller human life.'

'The important thing is somehow to begin.'

'I sometimes begin a drawing with no preconceived problem to solve, with only the desire to use pencil on paper... but as my eye takes in what is so produced, a point arrives where some idea crystallizes, and then a control and ordering begins to take place.'

'I find in all the artists that I admire most a disturbing element, a distortion, giving evidence of a struggle... In great art, this conflict is hidden, it is unresolved. All that is bursting with energy is disturbing – not perfect.'

Ambition and Fear

2010-06-10T16:03:00.002+10:00

I have managed to master the art of procrastination over the past couple of weeks. At least, I have done far more of this than painting... or even attempting to paint. However, I did make one today, an attempt that is, but it felt half-arsed.

Since returning from Perth I have, creatively, been stuck somewhere between ambition and fear. This kind of anxiety is ridiculous.

It's hard to explain the fear side of things... (the ambition is self explanatory); it's like I get so worked up about starting a new piece in case it may not work out the way I want it to - hell, I should know by now that they very rarely do, and that often the further away from the initial idea they are, sometimes the better the work ends up being... it's like some sort of self-evolving lucky-dip... but lately, more so than usual, I have been so nervous about starting something new - it's like I feel that my every move in the studio is being watched and criticised - when clearly, it's not, (or should I say the only one doing so is ME)... but somehow, stupidly, I allow this kind of fear to enter, be it to provide an excuse to procrastinate, or be it genuine anxiety driven fear... with the ridiculous thought that every mark I make on the canvas will be seen - when in reality, I don't have to show my work to anyone. If a piece does not work, or I am not happy with something, I do not have to present it to the public to be judged. I can paint over it in the privacy of my studio as if what's underneath never existed... I can even slash it or burn it if I so desire, and no-one else has to know.

It's such a weird state of mind. I wonder sometimes if it is laziness - this procrastination... but I have a genuine desire to be busy. I find myself frantically cleaning the house or doing other tasks that are indeed productive in other ways, but in no means towards my art.

I feel a little silly even writing about it but I am sure I will curiously re-read it with interest one day. Just as I am sure if I was to scroll back to any blog, diary or folio entries after previous exhibitions, I would probably see some sort of pattern in my way of thinking... perhaps it is just that 'post-exhibition confusion' that an artist can sometimes feel after a show. I am in no way feeling 'down' at the moment, I am, in fact, generally happy... just not very productive. I realise I am the only one who can change this and I truly hope me, myself and I get their act together soon.

Blanket Magazine

2010-06-05T12:01:00.004+10:00

Thanks to Bec Brown and crew for the feature in Blanket Magazine - Cosmos Issue.

In their own words...(taken from their website)

Blanket is an online PDF magazine that uncovers art + design + photography from the talented people who create it.

Bec has put together a talented team of Blanketeers, dotted all over the world, who help her create a beautiful magazine each and every issue with their contributions of artist interviews, cheeky and humorous stories, craft, cartoons and, of course, beautiful art, design and photography.

Blanket Magazine can be downloaded here for the tiniest of fees and is definitely good value and a good read.

Reconstruction of the Father Mother

2010-06-03T21:33:00.010+10:00

I received an email from my mother today.

It read, simply...
She had read my entries about the late, and great, Louise Bourgeois. I was so thrilled at the thought of my mother wanting to read this that I almost put my copy in the post to her, but then thought twice... I have a feeling I will be wanting to refer to it for one reason or another - as it has barely left my side over the past two days... so instead, I am going to buy her a copy online and send it to her as a gift.

I had actually been wanting to buy my mother a meaningful gift for a while.

I've no doubt it will inspire my mother, as a woman, and also an artist, the way it has me.

A Bit More of Bourgeois...

2010-06-01T20:53:00.006+10:00

(above: Portrait of Louise Bourgeois with Fillette, 1968, by Robert Mapplethorpe, 1982)

I have been reading bits and pieces from the book all afternoon, remembering the wonderful Louise Bourgeois.

The rawness and honesty of her words make them so powerful and allow the reader to gain a modest amount of insight into her amazing and ever creative mind. She says things that many artists are either too proud or too afraid to say, she happily contradicts herself if the words come from an honest place... it's more a case of sharing her evolved knowledge on a previous thought or topic rather than contradiction in the true sense - regardless, her words strike a chord with me and I admire her tremendously.

From an interview with Stuart Morgan, first published in Artscribe 1988 -
SM:

What's this piece called?

LB:

It embarrasses me to say I don't know what it's called. As time goes on it means different things to me, so I don't have a title. This is not my job. As far as I'm concerned it should have four or five titles. My subjects recur. They might look different but the subjects themselves are the same.

A diary note from 1986 -

Self-control means:
Do not show your arrow, idiot.
Do not make threats, stupid.
Do not frighten horses.
Do not rock the boats.
Do not push a tantrum.
Do not show your jealousy.
Do not show how much you care.

A statement from 1979 -

Once I was beset by anxiety. I couldn't tell right from left or orient myself. I could have cried out with terror at being lost. But I pushed the fear away by studying the sky, determining where the moon would come out, where the sun would appear in the morning. I saw myself in relationship to the stars. I began weeping, and I knew that I was all right.
This is the way I make use of geometry today. The miracle is that I am able to do it - by geometry.

8 August 1987 -

You are born alone. You die alone. The value of the space in between is trust and love. That is why geometrically speaking the circle is a one.
Everything comes to you from the other. You have to be able to reach the other. If not you are alone...

3 October 1987 -

Transparency interests me. I want to be transparent. If people could see through me, they could not help loving me, forgive me. What is the difference between the two? None.

From a series of statements published in 1992 -

When I was growing up, all the women in my house were using needles, I've always had a fascination with the needle, the magic power of the needle. The needle is used to repair the damage. It's a claim to forgiveness. It is never aggressive, it's not a pin.

If a person is an artist, it is a guarantee of sanity. He is able to take his torment.

By withdrawing, by recognizing you have no power, you become more than yourself. You get ideas which never would have occurred to you. In my art, I live in a world of my own making. I make decisions. I have power. In the real world, I don't want power.

Self-expression is sacred and fatal. It's a necessity. Sublimation is a gift, a stroke of luck. One has nothing to do with the other.
I am saying in my sculpture today what I could not make out in the past. It was fear that kept me from understanding. Fear is the pits. It paralyzes you.
My sculpture allows me to re-experience the fear, to give it a physicality so I am able to hack away at it. Fear becomes a manageable reality. Sculpture allows me to re-experience the past, to see the past in its objective, realistic proportion.
Fear is a passive state. The goal is to be active and take control. The move is from the passive to the active. If the past is not negated in the present, you do not live. You go through the emotions like a zombie, and life passes you by.
Since the fears of the past were connected with the functions of the body, they reappear through the body. For me, sculpture is the body. My body is my sculpture.

The intensity of Francis Bacon's work moves me deeply. I react positively. I sympathize. His suffering communicates. The definition of beauty is a kind of intimacy in the visual. I feel for Bacon even though his emotions are not mine.
The physical reality of his works is transformed and transcended. His room does not obey the laws of perspective. To look at his pictures makes me alive. I want to share it. It's almost the expression of love..

I am glad she shared her insight, knowledge and experience in print.

I do not know who took the above photograph of Louise, if I find out, I will credit note it - but I love it so much I just had to include it.

Farewell Louise Josephine Bourgeois

2010-06-01T14:57:00.015+10:00

I should be painting today. I've not done so since returning from Perth a week ago. I had planned to spend all day in the studio and not succumb to any distractions, but when I learned that Louise Bourgeois had passed away, I felt compelled to pay some kind of a tribute to her, even if only in the form of a blog post. However, my respects run far deeper than the words on this page.

To look at my work you would not necessarily recognise that for the past 10 years, Louise Bourgeois has been one of my greatest artistic influences. I don't choose to imitate but rather allow inspiration to take hold and manifest in it's own wonderful and often peculiar ways.

Unfortunately, I never met Louise Bourgeois, nor was I allowed to take photographs of her work at an exhibition in Dublin years ago, (way before the iPhone!); so I have grabbed a few images from the internet to illustrate this post.

I have mentioned here in this blog several times as well as dedicating this post from 2006 to her, quoting some excerpts from her book Destruction of the Father / Reconstruction of the Father.

I just adore that book, and refer to it often, it showcases her fertile imagination and holds a wealth of experience and inspiration... and through her words, her images became more appealing and meaningful to me.

To be born an artist is both a privilege and a curse. How can it be taught? It is not possible to become one, you can just accept or refuse the gift. It is not in my power or is it my responsibility or am I willing to try the impossible aim [of] teaching someone to "become" an artist.

A diary entry from 1983:

Success or good news is terrifying and provokes attack, anxiety attacks or aggressive and murderous attack; it is the fear of the alter ego. I do not want to be rewarded or exalted. I detest it. It makes me bite. It is not ingratitude, it is not fear, it is terror.

Every time I open the book, I am greeted with this...

My name is Louise Josephine Bourgeois.
I was born 24 December 1911, in Paris.
All my work in the past fifty years, all my
subjects, have found their inspiration in
my childhood.

My childhood has never lost its magic, it
has never lost its mystery, and it has never
lost its drama.

Almost childlike themselves, they are possibly the most simple words to grace the book, said with the kind of innocence that many of us strive to hang on to, but with a lifetime of experience that many of us will never know. She lived ninety-eight years. I have to wonder, to make it that far and not see out 100, was it a choice? Was she ready to go beyond her lifetime on earth? She has certainly left behind an amazing legacy and will no doubt forever inspire future generations of artists and women alike.

In a questionnaire from 1971, Louise was asked -

Do you feel you have as much recognition of your work as you would like?

She answered simply -

No. But recognition will come in time, and this is enough for me.

I think she can rest assured that she has made her mark in this world and not only in the form of recognition, she was also a true inspiration figure to so many and shall continue to be well beyond her time on this earth.

Rest in Peace SpiderWoman.

above image:
Louise Bourgeois in 1990,
behind her marble sculpture Eye to Eye (1970)
Photo by Raimon Ramis

With a Heavy Heart...

2010-06-01T12:16:00.007+10:00

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post. I have just heard news of the passing of one of the most amazing women to ever have graced this earth. The wonderful, beautiful and SO, SO inspirational Louise Bourgeois passed away yesterday, May 31, aged 98.

Despite her age, I had somehow believed she would live forever, so news of her death is still somewhat of a shock to me.

I need to gather my thoughts in order to come back and pay my respects.

RIP the amazing Spider Mistress.

Today the art world, and the WORLD, learned of a great loss.

Photo credit for the amazing image above - the wonderful Annie Leibovitz

RIP Dennis Hopper

2010-05-31T14:34:00.005+10:00

I was saddened yesterday, when I heard that Dennis Hopper had given his final performance. To many, he was one of my more unexplainable crushes in my late teens and early twenties... but those who knew me well, and appreciated his work, understood why.

He was intelligent, charming, mysterious, alluring, passionate and talented... at least that's what he projected as a figure in the public eye.

Sure, he had his demons... don't we all? In film he played crazy and bad to perfection, but he had the versatility to play a great 'funny guy'.

Above and beyond a fantastic career as an actor and director, Hopper was also rather fascinating to me because of his passion for art. Though probably better known for his photography, he was also a painter, poet and sculptor, as well as an avid art collector, who possessed works by artists such as Basquiat, Warhol and Schnabel.

To me he was rather inspiring.

Rest in peace 'Mad Dog'. x

Home is Where the Art is... sometimes

2010-05-28T15:47:00.005+10:00

My flight from Perth arrived in Melbourne just after 10:30 on Monday night. C picked me up from the airport and we got home around midnight.

It took me a while to fall asleep, despite being dog tired and xanaxed. Once I did, I slept until close to midday.

I didn't do any shopping whilst away, all I brought back with me was a cold, but I certainly enjoyed catching up with some old friends in Perth; some I had not seen for over 10 years. It always amazes me how you can often reacquaint with someone from your past, know nothing or very little about the last 10 or so years of their life, but feel totally comfortable in their presence and converse like it was only yesterday or last week that you last hung out. It's a nice thing, and somewhat comforting when you are in a new, strange or foreign city, away from home and it's comforts.

Speaking of home, it was nice to come back. Whilst I enjoyed Perth, I was more than ready to come home on Monday. Five days was more than sufficient. I was not there as a tourist, nor to see any sights or sites, nor was I there for a cultural experience, I simply went over there for the exhibition opening and to actually, and finally, see the gallery my work has been, and is being, exhibited in. Catching up with a handful of lovely people was a bonus, and certainly made my visit to the West far more enjoyable.

I returned a little exhausted but full of fresh ideas to blend with some older ones for a new body of work. There is a part of me that can't wait to get started - to head back into the studio and get busy painting... but there is another part of me, right now, that just cannot be bothered - not just yet. Partly, I suppose, due to having this cold and feeling a little run down, but other than working Wednesday and Thursday, I have very much enjoyed a couple of days doing pretty much NOTHING. I'd be bored if the nothingness were to continue for too long, but there is no chance of that happening with everything that needs to be done... but for today, it suits me JUST FINE!

There's always (at least) one...

2010-05-22T10:27:00.014+10:00

I awoke feeling a little less cloudy today, despite the weather turning in Perth.

As the rain falls outside I sit up in my double bed and wonder why all motel beds leave me with such a sore back. I open the blinds to see a grey city. I can hear the sound of Saturday morning traffic, made louder by tyres on the wet roads.

I reflect on the past few weeks and in particular, opening night of the exhibition.

It was a good night, but why does there always have to be (at least) one tosser who unknowingly tries to make it not so.

I didn't catch his name, purely because I lost interest very early in our conversation. He was around 60 I suppose, quite rotund, balding white hair and a bulbous nose - the type worn by a number of aging alcoholics. His rosacea of course, may not have been caused by excess drinking, but the bullshit he was spinning caused me to believe it was a real possibility. Either way, his appearance was not the offensive part, but as he kept talking, he became ugly in my eyes.

I'm often in two minds as to whether I should attend my own opening nights. Whilst I used to enjoy the attention, I now feel a little more awkward about being in the spotlight. It's my work on show, not ME. There is a part of me that wants the work to speak for itself. The other part is a little more curious and wants to see people's reaction to the paintings, and even eavesdrop on their conversations about the work - although the comments are not always complimentary, it still always fascinates me. I must say, I also do enjoy and appreciate those people, whom after the speeches have pointed out my identity, put a hand on my shoulder and say "thank you" and smile. Such a simple gesture can lift my spirits and give me hope, unlike the words of the aforementioned tosser.

I happened to be standing near 3 of my works when we crossed paths. We were introduced without the exchange of his name. I was prepared to talk to him and smile as he asked me questions about my work. That quickly changed to wanting to roll my eyes and walk away as he started up about seeing me across the room and thinking I looked like an artist and some other bullshit about being pretty. I let those dimwitted remarks slide and continued to answer a few of his questions until his comments just became too fucking stupid to listen to anymore. He'd picked up on the fact that I was the model for some of my pieces and one in particular, of me and a bear, which just so happens to symbolise my late Russian grandfather. In the painting I am naked, but all you can see is my right breast. This man proceeded to eye off the painting, raise his eyebrows then look back at my bust, (and I certainly do not possess a rack of great proportions), and say "well Simone, I wouldn't mind getting to know you better".
Now, whilst I have painted naked, and clothed, women in a sensual and/or sexual light before, what was kind of funny, and what this man failed to see, was that in this particular piece, the nakedness of the figure actually represented innocence, vulnerability and a sense of purity. Regardless of his words being said in jest, (or not), it was such a fucking stupid thing to say to an artist, or any woman, let alone someone you have never met. It's NOT funny. I am not a prude by any means but that sort of talk from someone I have just met is just fucking stupid and I can't be bothered.

I walked to the back of the room and engrossed myself in conversation with someone I did know, (and had not seen for about 14 years), and despite a few attempts from him to get back into a conversation, I managed to pretty much ignore him for the rest of the evening.

I had to laugh when he came up in conversation the next day. The gallery directors took us, (the artists) out to lunch and he came up as we discussed 'last night'. They asked if he acted inappropriately, to which I responded yes, but said I could handle it. I did say that it was probably fortunate that it was me he'd spoken to like that and not another, perhaps more 'easily offended' or younger artist, and as much as I thought it was inappropriate, I knew to just walk away from him and not engage in anymore of his bullshit. It's not the first time and won't be the last. It was nice that the guys were concerned though, as some of those 'tossers' in the past have actually been the ones in their position.

Lunch was enjoyable and I am so grateful to be dealing with people who know how to treat their artists well and truly believe in the work. The effort that they, and their team went to in preparation for this exhibition is a testament to them and the fact that there are still good guys on the other side of the art world!

So whilst there might always be (at least) one tosser, the good guys outweighed them this time!

The Aftermath

2010-05-21T11:01:00.006+10:00

I never have many words on the morning after an opening night. My heads always feels heavy and my brain goes kind of numb. It was, however, a good night, and a very large turnout.

So while words fail me, I'll talk in pictures...

Notes from the West

2010-05-20T08:11:00.000+10:00

So... I'm in Perth.

The flight was surprisingly pleasant and time flew (pardon the pun) much faster than I thought it would. I assume half a xanax and two gin and tonics assisted in making it a good flight, but I was also fortunate enough to have noone sitting next to me, so after requesting the aisle seat at check in (in case I needed to make a quick exit), I was able to move over to the window seat without feeling confined and anxious. It's weird - I seem to get worse, or more anxious, every time I fly... You'd never believe I've traveled all the places I have when you hear me talk about how flying turns me into an anxious mess... The worst of it is the prelude to actually taking off, I think that's the most anxious time for me... I seem to calm myself down once the take off has been successful and there's no turning back - it's all out of my hands so I have to just go with the flow of the flight.

Despite the xanax kicking in fairly early, I managed to force my eyelids open long enough to watch Crazyheart. Becoming engrossed in an in-flight movie always helps me forget I'm up in the sky. I think being at the very front of the plane helped the flight feel a lot smoother too.

The taxi ride from the airport was another thing... whilst my driver was a pleasant chap, and quite chatty - asking questions about Melbourne in comparison to Perth and telling me he was originally from Bangladesh... we then moved on to talking about small bingles and larger accidents that he had had in the cab... not sure if that's the best thing to talk to your passengers about unless you want them to start feeling unsettled... either way, I contributed my five cents worth to the discussion.

The funniest or perhaps even ironic thing was that he proceeded to tell me how Perth cab drivers have to sit something similar to an exam when going for their cab licence to ensure that they know the city well enough and know the quickest routes from A to B etc... He seemed pretty comfortable with my desired destination when I first got in the cab and said 123 Hay St, Subiaco (the address of the gallery) and headed off with confidence. It turns out Hay street is MASSIVE and passes through several Perth suburbs. Of course, as someone who has never been to Perth, I had no idea of this, but after telling me he had passed his 'exam' and saying "yeah, yeah" when I told him where I wanted to go, I had assumed he might have some idea. We ended up a little lost as he and 'Tom-Tom' were in disagreement as to where we should be heading.

I ended up ringing the gallery as we were parked outside the WACCA and getting directions - we were quite a ways away from where we needed to be...

So - in a city full of one way streets, we were forced to take a much longer route than we had hoped. I had to laugh. He was a nice guy and I could tell he actually felt a little bit unsettled that he had gone the wrong way. We ended up in the tail end of peak hour traffic where he apologised to me and said he would stop the meter each time we were in traffic because he felt guilty. Bless.

We made it - finally - and he helped me carry the last of my paintings into the gallery. I think he even knocked a little more of the final meter reading, and as we parted I said "now we both know where 123 Hay Street is". Funny.

The gallery is a lovely space. It was nice to finally see the place that has been home to my work in WA for over a year now. Whilst it was good to see the show almost completely hung, it was also nice to walk away and take some time before coming back to see it all again at the opening.

I was tired when I got to my hotel room. Probably more so due to the 2 hour time difference. I though I might've enjoyed a sleep in, but despite being so tired, I still woke up on my Melbourne clock.

The weather predicts a sunny 25 degrees here in Perth today.... best get out and enjoy it!

Deliverance

2010-05-13T22:59:00.003+10:00

The bulk of my work arrived safely in Perth today. I spoke with the gallery and was pleased to know that the works arrived unscathed. I had been concerned since letting them go off on their own in a big truck last Thursday. I was even beginning to have dreams that they had arrived completely ruined.

As carefully as I can wrap my works with bubble wrap on top of more bubble wrap, cardboard and packing tape, it is always incredibly daunting when works that you have spent hours upon hours creating are handed over to someone else in the hope that they will be handled with care and arrive safely at their destination.

I have only ever had a few minor incidents with bad handling of my work in gallery storage and in transit, but I have heard some incredibly awful stories from other artists - enough to have left me full of anxiety for the past week.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I learned they were safe and in tact.

For the Love of ART

2010-05-10T23:56:00.004+10:00

I love painting, though sometimes I have a tumultuous emotional relationship with it... always with intensity, and, some days, I just feel like screaming in the studio.

Once I have, it's easier to work.

Tick, tick, tick...

2010-05-04T00:24:00.000+10:00

It's just after midnight... 12:24 to be exact.

I am procrastinating. Keep painting until I can no longer keep my eyes open, then possibly not respond to my morning alarm... or go to bed now and get up at around 5am and start painting again.

Deadlines...

I'm incredibly concerned about being able to get all the work needed complete in time for the courier this week. I wish Perth was a little closer.

I used to be able to paint all through the night, into the wee hours of the morning, then all of the next day... but I need sleep a lot more now than I did back in those days. I don't function too well without it and no longer even contemplate taking any substance that may allow me to.

If only I could paint in my sleep.

Pre Show Anxiety... (here we go again).

2010-04-28T08:18:00.014+10:00

I didn't exhibit last year, apart from having works selected in a couple of art prizes and group hangings. It had been a conscious decision, for two reasons - one was the fact that we'd bought a house and dogs and had to re assess a few things in order to make it all viable, and two, I wanted to have a break from my Melbourne gallery; actually from showing in Melbourne altogether for a while and co-incidently, my upcoming show happens to be in Perth. It will be a three woman show. I am happy about that for a number of reasons, especially as it's the first time exhibiting with this gallery - but I know I could not have completed a big enough body of work for a solo.

In fact, I am struggling to get enough done for this particular exhibition. I am happy with the work I have done, but perhaps not how many works I have completed. You can't rush some things. Deadlines are funny... for me a bit of a catch 22, whilst they push me to be productive, there is another part of my character that rebels a little to being told I have to have THIS done by THEN. I must say though, the gallery have been extremely patient and supportive of me since we first met a couple of years ago. I am grateful for that - it's a rarity these days.

I painted all day yesterday until about 4:30pm, when I just had to get out of the studio, and the house. My back was playing up from hours hunched over the canvas. I just can't do the easel thing with the sort of work I do, even tables or benches offer little comfort - I spend most of my time painting on the floor.

I went to have a massage when I left the house yesterday afternoon, it was very intense and actually quite painful but I believe it helped somewhat. I had planned to paint again when I got home but I just couldn't - or didn't. I felt exhausted - possibly more from emotional 'anxiety' rather than physical exertion. I also find it much harder painting in the evening under artificial light, though sometimes it is necessary in order to get the work done, I do much prefer painting under natural light.

Whilst out yesterday I had a bit of a 'selfish' wish enter my head. I thought to myself...
I just want to have a week where I don't work - or paint - and just sleep until I wake (with no alarm), get up when I feel like it, watch old movies like Breakfast at Tiffany's and Roman Holiday, eat pizza and drink champagne regardless of the time of day, wear whatever I am comfortable in - or nothing at all... listen to music, (whilst dancing like an idiot in my loungeroom), finish reading books I started ages ago and have not had time to pick them up again, have baths instead of showers and generally be a sloth for seven whole days.... but without it affecting reality at all, so I'd still get paid for not turning up to work, and miraculously, my paintings would still all be done in time, as would all the housework, and...
that's when I knew it was not possible. A nice thought though. Is it so wrong to desire a week for yourself and only yourself? It's not hurting anyone. Is it really 'selfish'? I know I could not do it for much longer that 7 days as I would get bored, frustrated; I'd start to crave being more productive and pro active... but just one week like that would be nice.

It's not that I don't get any time to myself now - I do - it's just that pretty much all of my spare time at the moment is spent in the studio, even on the days where I feel uninspired. I have not even had much time to write.

I love painting, I really do, and it's something that I have to do, regardless of exhibitions... but sometimes you need to stop, take a step back, a deep breath and find new inspiration before continuing... and sometimes, you just need to do NOTHING.

One thing I am incredibly thankful for is the fact that I no longer work nights (in my other job), it's definitely made for a different and far more desirable lifestyle in so many ways. Combine working nights with (also) being an artist and you have the ingredients for a somewhat solitary existence. I can't imagine going back to the old way, and can't believe I did it for so long. Only people who have spent years working nights would truly understand just how much effect it has on everything in your life - especially friendships and relationships. In a number of ways it has almost been like starting again, unfortunately, there are a few relationships that were destroyed and cannot be rebuilt - but new ones have now formed in their place - so for everything lost, something has been gained.

I have been criticised through comments on previous posts, (some which I publish, some which I don't), for being self-centred and unappreciative. I believe these comments have come from people who don't even know me, those that know me, know me and I don't even need to say any more than that. I should not have to justify anything I write here as I write for myself, and other than this paragraph, 99 percent of the time I write here not even aware that anyone else may be reading what I have to say. If I feel like writing about how I am feeling at any particular point, I will do so, no doubt there are entries that I look back on and laugh, or even wonder where the hell my head was at, but they are MY thoughts, MY feelings, MY words. If I sook about something through words on my blog, I am not comparing myself to someone with bigger, longer term problems, and I am not being unappreciative of all that I do have, I am merely keeping a journal for my OWN purposes. I repeat what I have said once or twice before, the reason I have not made it a private blog is because I have nothing to hide, because a few family members and friends have expressed curiousity and an interest in reading, and also because I really never expect it to be read and criticised by anyone who does not know me. I read blogs, a lot of them, and there have been entries I read where I think to myself - if this person was saying this to ME, I'd have this response for them - but they are not talking to me, they are blogging for themselves - so I would be hypocritical to criticise. If you don't like something someone write on their blog - DON'T KEEP READING IT.

SIMPLE!

Tribute.

2010-04-26T10:55:00.007+10:00

Last week I finally finished the painting dedicated to my late grandfather.
It is the first of many I am sure.

You were only waiting for this moment to be free...

Time Capsule...

2010-04-12T14:13:00.003+10:00

I've been storing my words in a safe place whilst I prepare for my upcoming exhibition in May. All my free time and creative energy is currently being projected into my painting. I feel very under prepared but am hoping it will all come together very soon.

Kitsune Girl

2010-03-15T15:43:00.001+11:00

finally...

No Love Lost

2010-03-03T21:05:00.002+11:00

Today would've been my Opa's 88th birthday had he not left this world last July. He comes to me as a blackbird now... at least, I like to think that is the case. I certainly think of him every time I see one.

I had one visit me at work today and it made me smile.

He loved the colour red, and today, in his honour I wore my red socks - the same pair I bought to wear to his funeral last year. He would have found that amusing.

You are still with us ol' Boris. Prost!

всегда в наших сердцах. xxx

36 Today!

2010-02-28T23:11:00.002+11:00

Grateful to those who helped to make it a special day. X

Enter the Tiger...

2010-02-15T11:58:00.010+11:00

Simone say(s) 'many mouths make light work of dumplings'....

Eve of the Tiger

2010-02-13T20:53:00.005+11:00

I decided to make some spinach, sesame and ginger dumplings in honour of Chinese new years eve... and with the assistance of my little plastic dumpling or 'gyoza' press bought from the 100yen store when last in Japan, they actually turned out really well - not to mention tasty.

I plan to spend the first day of the year of the tiger in my studio painting one, (tiger).

Sunday (Studio) Session

2010-02-08T07:59:00.004+11:00

Work in progress...

Closing Gaps...

2010-01-31T09:59:00.008+11:00

I was recently invited to paint a Schaffas by the people at Screamdance for a great cause. My naked Schaffas arrived the other day and has been sitting in the studio anxiously awaiting it's new identity whilst I contemplate whether to make it masculine, feminine or somewhat of a hermaphrodite. Whatever I end up creating, I was thrilled to be part of the project. I have until April to return the critter and along with a number of others Schaffas that have been sent off to selected artists, the Schaffas will then be part of a group exhibition supporting Close the Gap.

I've been spending some time in the studio recently too, (which I recently cleaned out and re-arranged), making a productive start to 2010. Only two weeks now until the Year of the Tiger officially begins.

People's Choice

2010-01-17T19:56:00.007+11:00

This afternoon I received a phone call to inform me that my painting, Food and Desire - Conflict 1, had won the People's Choice Award in the Prospect Portrait Prize at Prospect Gallery in South Australia.

Thanks to everyone who voted, and of course to Fenwicks for donating the prize money.

Also, thank you to Dustin Parker for this.

Dark Pop

2010-01-12T22:00:00.006+11:00

My work, Kitsune - The Hunter, (pictured above), is currently part of Dark Pop 2.0 at Last Rites Gallery in New York. The exhibition can be viewed online here.

A special thanks to Andrew Michael Ford for the invitation to be part of this exhibition.

My Little Reflection

2009-12-31T12:48:00.009+11:00

Another year.... almost over.
Another decade...almost over.
Tonight, a full blue moon will see out 2009 and welcome 2010.
The year of the Tiger. My Chinese zodiac sign.

Reflecting on 2009, on a personal level; the hardest thing this past year was watching my grandfather pass away. The easiest thing, was telling those important to me that I love them.

The smartest decision I made this year was to stop working nights.

The craziest decision, was to buy a house.

Consequently, I am happy with both.

My main regret, (and perhaps only one for this year), is not having produced enough art this year. (The two aforementioned decisions had a bit to do with this I suppose). However, I am very happy with the path my new ideas and work are taking, and grateful that I now have a proper studio to work in.

My head, of course, is much busier than this blog entry; unvoiced resolutions dance around threatening to leave me disappointed (in myself), so I keep them there. Pressure does not nurture positive actions.

Positive thinking, however, does. So I welcome 2010 with open arms... and an open mind!

On The Road... Again.

2009-12-14T23:10:00.009+11:00

Food and Desire - Conflict 1 (above) has been selected for and is now hanging in the Prospect Portrait Prize in South Australia's Prospect Gallery.

It can be voted for it in the People's Choice Award here.

This piece was also recently a finalist in the 2009 Corangamarah Art Prize, and also, as previously posted, in the 2008 Kilgour Art Prize.

This piece is part of a body of work titled 'Food and Desire', and to me, these works tell more than just the story of my personal battle of wills. Each piece in the series explores the conflicting interests between the somewhat mundane necessity and creative passion, ( also a necessity), and how one must feed the other, as well as the frustration along the way - the 'fight' to create.

This piece visually narrates the conflict of my everyday world and the means in which I need to meet to be able to paint, as well as the NEED to paint. It also explores the mysteries and emotions of the, (my), two personas involved in this ongoing conflict.

Images...

2009-12-08T21:21:00.005+11:00

Just a few recent shots from the studio.
A little stagnant of late but after the ebb
...comes the flow.

My New Models

2009-10-02T14:05:00.001+10:00

I finally managed to fit in a visit to my parents a couple of weeks ago. It was so lovely to see them and despite my mother still coming to terms with the passing of her father, the visit was a reassuring and comforting one.

On hearing my new ideas my grandmother had given my mother a gorgeous set of matryoshka dolls to give to me. The face on the doll reminds me of my mother and is now the model behind the first work in what I imagine will be quite a large series.

I am beginning to feel that anxiety I get when I am overwhelmed with new ideas and don't know where to start. Some weird sort of panic sets in, perhaps a fear that I may not get to bring all the ideas to fruition. I do hope I can. This body of work will be, in fact it already is, so very important to me.

Let's Knife!

2009-10-01T08:52:00.014+10:00

Last Thursday night I had the pleasure of attending Shonen Knife's Melbourne performance. May I just say they were so much fun and reminded me why I was allured by their bizarre and 'happy' ways when I was just a young and confused teen.

I first saw this all girl, Japanese, 3 piece, Ramones inspired, punk-pop band on RAGE when I was 13 or 14. I was at a 'slumber party', and as I so often did in those days, I would challenge myself to see if I could stay awake all night - (nearly always on my own as one by one my adolescent comrades would crash out in their sleeping bags around me). RAGE assisted me in my feat as I have always had a passion for music.

It must have been around 2 or 3am when a rocket launched on the TV screen transporting three cute Japanese girls in matching love-heart mini-dresses, singing in English with thick Japanese accents about riding the rocket. I thought it was the coolest thing I had seen in ages!

I was delighted when I first heard they were touring Australia. I had tried to find out if they were still performing when I was living in Osaka, Japan - their hometown - but like most things, getting legible information for those not so apt at reading, or fluently speaking, Japanese was always an almost impossible task. My broken Jap-English served me well enough to remain a vegetarian and find an art supplies store whilst over there but that was about it.

Despite Naoko Yamano being the only remaining original, (and founding), member of the band, the girls did not disappoint, and at 48 years young, Naoko is still as kawaii and youthful as ever.

It was just another reminder for me that Japan, and many things Japanese, have been major influences of mine since a very young age and although I am experimenting with other ideas in my art at the moment, I have a feeling the underlying Eastern influence will always play a large part.

The night also made me miss Japan somewhat and was made more enjoyable by a pre-show bowl of Udon at a very cute and authentic Japanese eatery with my dear friend Ayls - also a self confessed Nipponophile. For a minute, we both thought we were back in Japan... or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

Little Package

2009-09-09T23:06:00.004+10:00

Today in the mail I received a lovely little surprise package. I opened up the padded envelope to find a cute little matryoshka doll (aka babushka dolls), and opened her up to find two other matryoshkas inside her.

With the recent passing of my grandfather, (who was Russian), I have been slightly fascinated with that part of my heritage and have been sourcing images and information that have now become a major creative inspiration for me. I had come up with several ideas for new works that strongly feature these crafted wooden dolls, however, I did not possess a set of matryoshkas. My grandmother has a number of them but she lives some distance away, and I had not had a chance to head out to the city and look for my own. I had contemplated buying some online, but was still deep in procrastination when the parcel arrived in my letterbox.

It was possibly the kindest gesture received since my grandfather died and it brought tears to my eyes. The doll came with its packaging from the shop, Babushkas, along with a small gift card that simply read 'thinking of you. C'.

It was very unexpected but so very much appreciated.

Thank you Cat.

Draft (it's all Greek to me)

2009-09-09T17:34:00.009+10:00

I have been contacted by an Arts/Culture magazine in Greece about doing an interview.

I received the questions today and have been toying around with responses today.

I'm going to copy and paste the word document here so that I can come back and review what I have written at any time, on any computer should I need to access it... or feel the need to try and make (more) sense of it...

It always just feels like drunken ramble when I write stuff like this...

How would you describe yourself?
Intricate and Complex yet somewhat simple at the same time. A lot like my art. For me – it is simple – I just want to paint… I need to paint… but getting there or ‘the journey’ is often far more complex and the work I do is rather intricate and time consuming and requires an awful lot of patience. Like a number of artists I am certain I accommodate several personalities, but all of them share the strong desire to make art.. At times, my passion for art, and the making of it, has been mistaken for selfishness – I refuse to believe that following your dream is selfish. I now surround myself less with people who think this way, and more with people who encourage this ambition not only in me, but in themselves and others.

Tell me some things about your life/status etc..
Art has been a major part of my life since the age of 3 when I professed to my father that I was going to be an artist and sat down to draw him a picture – which, he still has today! My father was a big influence for me as a child and also in my art. He is a wonderful illustrator and my mother is also a painter (abstract), so art has always been around me, some say it was bred into me. It was certainly nurtured in my family. I am fortunate that my parents supported my desire to pursue art from a very young age and thus allowed me to leave school at 15 to do so. I started working for my father as a Graphic Designer and continued working in that field for over 10 years. I am often told that my work has a strong graphic influence, no doubt stemming from my fathers illustrative influence and my time in the graphics field. I moved away from the computer generated graphic world when I started exhibiting my paintings. Like all but a select few artists, I still needed to source an income from somewhere outside of my art and found that hospitality was flexible enough, (even though at times incredibly frustrating), to support my pursuit both financially and time wise, whilst ultimately striving to get to artist’s ‘NIRVANA’: being able to live solely off the income of one’s art.

Tell me about your work. Past exhibitions, studies.
I attended Melbourne School of Art part time for around 3 years after leaving school, but just like high school, I never completed any type of certificate course – I was always a stubborn student and just wanted to pursue my own thing.
Aside from my time as a Graphic Artist I had a strong interest in drawing animals when I was younger and traveled through Africa at the age of 21 studying the wildlife in its natural habitat and producing a series of highly detailed illustrations as a result of my time there.
My work has morphed and evolved into something completely different now.
For a long time I had been rather fascinated with Japanese art and culture and first traveled there in 2003. Prior to that, my first exhibition of acrylic paintings was based on the subject of Geisha and my fascination of the ‘floating world’ in Japan. I have since traveled there a number of times and also lived and worked, (painted), in Osaka for 4 months in 2007. The women I painted slowly began to come out from behind their painted masks over the following years, becoming a lot more personal and revealing more about myself in the process.
My latest exhibition was actually a series of self-portraits, exploring my own ‘battle of wills’: my two lives, the artist vs. The waitress. the battle between necessity and passion – and how one feeds the other, as well as the frustration along the way – ‘fighting to create’. It also explored idendity and asked questions - Where would I rather be? What would I rather be doing? The painting waitress: the waitress who paints or the painter who waits…. Waits to create… waits to paint.

The work explores my everyday world… the means in which I need to meet to paint… as well as the NEED to paint. It also explores the mysteries or other persona of the waitress… such a personal yet non-attached job… an intimate yet generic job or role. Serving an audience. What does a waitress do when she is not waiting? Looking at the idea that she is more than just a waitress… the notion that she could be anyone or anything outside of her waiting job. Of course it is well know that many musicians, artists and actors have done this sort of job. Often it’s a way to make ends meet whilst waiting for a break or recognition or respect in their chosen field of the arts…. Waiting to be noticed? People have no idea of what else she, (the waitress), can do other than carry multiple plates and pour champagne with one hand behind their back and a smile on their face… In a sense they, themselves are actors, for the job is role-play.

There is also the personal and sensual element to the food itself and its appeal to our senses of sight, smell and taste. ( My partner is a chef, and when we met he confessed to me that he possessed no artistic talent... I soon enabled him to see otherwise – we were more similar than he thought, the difference being that his canvas was a plate, and food was his medium.)

What did you do before you started to paint?
I have always drawn, since the age of 3 (as mentioned earlier). When asked the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” at school, my friends would change each year, from vet, to policeman/woman, doctor, pilot and so on, whereas my answer was always ‘an artist’. As mentioned, my parents were very supportive in nurturing my dream and working for my father Graphic design provided me with a great opportunity to do so. It was a foot in the door so to speak. After 7 years with my father I actually started my own Freelance Graphics business, and later began working in and even managing Commercial art galleries in and around Melbourne, eventually becoming a freelance art consultant - and it was during this time that I began to get serious about my own painting.

How come you chose to do that?
(Possibly answered this and the previous question in the above text???)

What is it that you love about pop art? How does it express who you are?
As mentioned, I have a strong background in graphic art – and obviously this show through in my paintings. I have always been quite technical in my approach and application, even when drawing, with fine line work and acute attention to detail. This style of work often looks so simplified, yet is actually so very intricate and time consuming to produce. I like the contradiction in this. The work I do seems highly structured – almost formulated – at first glance, but it is far more complex than just a bunch of clean lines. Pop culture is something I, and many others of my generation, have grown up with and can associate with. I like to use a ‘familiar’ medium and put different spin on it, be it through subject matter or humour for example.
Evoking any sort of emotion or response (sometimes even negative) for me, as an artist using a visual language is great. It is a known fact that when people are walking through an exhibit the average time they look at each piece is less than 3 seconds… so to capture someone’s attention beyond that is incredibly rewarding.

How come you prefer to depict women? I believe it is important to be able to relate well to my subject and as a woman I can closely do so. To some degree I see a self-portrait element in most art, deliberate or not. For me it’s a way to express my femininity and an array of thoughts/emotions through my (or a women's) eye – or perspective - without always having to be completely obvious. At times it is almost chameleon like. Art allows me to experiment outside the realms of reality – there are no boundaries. I obviously identify with women; therefore I explore the art of visual language using a female figure as my platform and ‘voice’

What are often just seen as pretty or sexy images – have an underlying mystery, deeper meaning, darkness, story or message. However, I am happy either way with how people view the work – it’s a win-win… if people see beyond the image itself, that’s great, if they just love the image for the aesthetic image itself that’s great too…. I don’t see that as shallow – I see that as interpretation and personal choice.

Tell me about the characters of your paintings. They explore the realms of sensuality and sexuality as well as often possessing a sense of fun or humour – I like to have an element of humour in my work, be it subtle, sarcastic or obvious. Its not essential that people ‘get’ the humour or even the idea behind each piece – as I believe strongly that art is open to interpretation but when they do see it or ‘get’ it – it is certainly a buzz for me.

Is there one that you particularly like? (pls include it in the images you’ll send me)
I often look at many finished pieces and ask myself how I could improve it or if I could have done it better but each one breeds new life to the next piece and the journey is never dull. I am very partial to my recent Food and Desire series, as it is possibly the most intimately personal work I have created. Do I like everything I create? No. Is everything I create necessary? Yes. It’s an ongoing process and for me making art is essential.

Who are your influences-favorite artists? I am influenced by far more than imagery of other artists; this includes a lot of writers, such as Haruki Murakami, Jeanette Winterson, Jack Kerouac and Tom Robbins; and also musicians, among them are Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Radiohead, Patti Smith, PJ Harvey and Bjork. As far as visual artists, to name a few, Basquiat, Hokusai, Egon Schiele, Gustav Klimt, William Kentridge, Karel Appel and Frida Kahlo, as well as a number of contemporary Japanese artists.

You also enjoy blogging. Have you been always writing? What’s the story here? I have always loved to write, be it short stories, poetry, journal or blog entries, even just stream of consciousness. I see it as another way to express myself. It is a very raw, quick and honest way to expel my thoughts, feelings, frustration or emotion. Writing can sometimes also help me with artists block because it is much more of a free flowing medium for me than painting. It is also, in a sense, a documentation of my life, which allows me to continue to look back and reflect.

Describe a typical day. How is your life as an artist different?
No day is typical as an artist. Just like each painting, every one is different and unpredictable.
I am not sure how different my life is to other people or other artists. I do know that as an artist, I am always taking situations or experiences and asking how I could interpret that through a work of art. I do have an extremely over active mind and I see art in everything… almost!

What are you working on right now? What are your plans for the near future? Do you have any exhibitions planned?
My dear grandfather recently passed away and he was a big inspiration for me as a child. He also used to paint. He was born in Russia and I have recently become fascinated with exploring my heritage through my art. I am not going to give too much away but you can definitely expect to see a shift from the Japanese influences, (at least for now), and a focus on the Russian ones. I am currently talking to my gallery in Perth, Australia about a solo exhibition next year. There are also a number of group exhibitions on the cards for 2010, including one in the U.S.A. For more information and updates people can check out my website. (www.simonemaynard.com)

Posting for Posting's Sake

2009-08-12T16:23:00.008+10:00

Is it possible to feel inspired and yet so un-inspired at the same time? Maybe it's inspired but un-motivated. Perhaps that's tautology. Or just some form of an excuse. Either way, I feel like doing nothing, and it feels O.K whilst I am doing it, then after a few hours of doing nothing I start to feel incredibly guilty and frustrated.

I don't really have much to write about today, but I am using this as some sort of outlet, creative or not, and to break this vicious nothing circle of the day.

My mind is on some sort of heavy duty spin cycle but nothing seems to be getting clean.

"Are you writing a book?", the waiter asked me on Monday. "No, I am writing my thoughts down to help me stay sane". The reply was said with a little tongue in cheek, and I got a laugh, a nervous laugh. We are all telling some kind of story, whether they ever become a book or not is another matter.

Sometimes I think if I was to ever have a book, I'd just like it to be filled only with images.

Post Mortem and the Meaning of Life...

2009-08-10T15:15:00.007+10:00

I spoke to my grandmother this morning. I called her as soon as the thought of calling her entered my head, without any hesitation. In the past, I have procrastinated, delaying several phone calls. I am sorry for that now. I had my reasons I suppose, even if some of them now seem selfish, but it saddened me when I called today and did not hear my Opa answer the phone. It saddens me even more knowing that I'll never hear that voice on the other end of the line again.

He never spoke for long during phone calls, but there was some sort of security, or stability... normality I suppose... with just the knowledge he was there, at home, with my grandmother. It was somewhat of a comforting thought I guess, for I had never known it to be any other way. Today when I called, it was so apparent that he was no longer there; that my grandmother is now all alone. She is being very strong and possibly more reasonable and rational than I have ever known her to be. She seems to now have far less demands and expectations of the world and her family. This makes me both happy and sad.

After speaking with my grandmother, I phoned my mother, who is still terribly sad about the loss of her father. Of course, I did not expect her to be anything but this, I too still find myself bursting into tears on occasion when I look at his photograph. The other day I asked C if it gets any easier, or should I just put the photo away for a while to avoid some of the sadness. He suggested I leave it up until I can look at it without having to well up; until I can look at it and smile and remember all the good things... the happy memories. I have many of those.

My grandfather was a lovely man. He adored his two children and two grandchildren. In return, he was adored by all four of us. His story has now become a huge inspiration for me.

( Weird. I am sitting at a favourite cafe, outside in the light rain, and I just smelt his smell; the smell I remember so well from sitting in his car. Now it's gone again.)

I want to paint. I need to paint. I want to dedicate my next body of work to his memory. After all, I have him to partly thank for my creative passion and artistic talent.

I have found myself becoming more and more curious about his heritage and his homeland of Russia. I found myself ordering a book of Russian fairy-tales online last week. It is the same book that was given to me as a child but I could not find it in the house. I remember loving it as a child, so I see no reason why I won't now, in fact I will probably get more out of it now, as an adult, than I did as a child.

I already have several ideas for new works. I tried sketching some of them the other day but I was so anxious and eager to get the ideas out and the images/works completed that I could not even draw. It was very frustrating.

I have also found it a little bit hard to write lately, on screen or paper. When I see the words appear it makes everything seem so much more real and right now I am having a bit of trouble dealing with reality.

I've often been called a dreamer... and I am O.K with that. Sometimes, in that world, everything is much nicer. Being a Piscean however, I am also part 'realist fish'. Some days I swim with the tide, other days against it. Part optimist, part pessimist. Sometimes I feel I am an expert at being both happy and sad at the same time. I don't always get to where I set out to go, but the journey is always interesting... sometimes even surprising, even in a good way.

I accept that the world we live in is far from perfect. My glass is neither half full or half empty... but it does exist.

It was a struggle and a surprise last week when my mother, (a normally optimistic, vibrant and happy person), turned to me and asked me the meaning of life. "I just wonder... what's the point of it all? Life? When one day 'poof'! you're gone." I stared back at her blankly for a good 3-4 seconds, frightened of what might come out of my mouth - and although my initial thought was, 'oh mum, you are so asking the wrong person' - I found a strange sense of comfort in my words.

After my few seconds of stunned silence, I felt calm and confident enough to provide some sort of answer... or at least a response. After all, is there really an answer to that question? Sometimes I wonder if we, (humans), ever find out - if not in life, then in death? It's a daunting thought for most to think that we don't - I suppose it just seems somewhat cruel... unfair... but then again, how do we measure fairness or even purpose for that matter? It makes more sense to me why people choose some sort of faith, in order to hold onto some sort of belief that there is something else... ?

Maybe this really is all there is. Am I O.K with that? My answer, I suppose, is 'does it matter'? My answer, or response to my mother was something along the lines of... "remember telling me how happy and proud he was when he received his diploma? His joy at becoming a grandfather for the first, and second, time... and then a great grandfather?" Words were just coming out of my mouth and we both just listened. "Mum, do you ever get excited about things? Do you ever, even if only for a second, feel such an overwhelming sense of happiness... pleasure... excitement that you forget about everything else?" I continued to suggest that perhaps it was these things, these moments, these feelings or intense emotions that gave our life on earth some sort of meaning or purpose. "I suppose so... Yes", was my mother's reply... and with that, it was like we both just accepted, (or not), that this indeed was a good enough answer to THE question, for better or for worse - and even if it wasn't, it was a good enough solution for now.

My Opa - Part 2

2009-08-04T09:42:00.011+10:00

Yesterday was my grandfather's funeral. Saying goodbye is such a hard thing to do.

It still all feels a little bit surreal. Someone I have known and loved my whole life, is now gone.

I guess in one way I am lucky to have only attended one funeral prior to this, (that of an ex-boyfriend's grandfather whom I got along with very well); and in 35 years that seems to be quite rare. I have been fortunate enough to have my loved ones with me all this time... until last week.

I got the call from my mother early on Tuesday morning. In fact I was still in bed. As soon as I saw it was her calling, I just knew it was bad news. I was told that my grandfather had suffered a massive stroke on Monday night and it was worse than they first thought, with untreatable hemorrhaging from the brain - he was deeply unconscious and not expected to last the day. My uncle and grandmother were at the hospital. I called my uncle who suggested I just go to work and do all my normal daily things as there was nothing I could do that would alter the outcome. I felt confused after that call. In hindsight I can understand where he was coming from but I could not just pretend it was not happening. I phoned my mother back to get some perspective. Unfortunately, she was in Coffs Harbour on holiday with my father and would not be able to get to Melbourne that day. This, I know, was a devastating thought for her. Knowing that my mother could not be there, I HAD to go. I then called my partner and he confirmed that I should get in the car and head to the Austin, even if hesitant, at least get down there and make a decision then.

I got in the car, and from that moment I was on auto-pilot. I drove for nearly 2 hours, arrived at the Austin, ignored the 'Car Park Full' sign and drove into the underground car park, parked the car and proceeded to ask directions to my grandfather's room.

I thought I would be ok, but as soon as I opened the door and saw him lying there I burst into tears. This was the last time I would ever see him. The reality smacked me in the face as soon as I entered the room. It was a feeling I have never felt before.

I hugged my uncle, embraced my grandmother, then walked over to my unconscious grandfather and held his head and kissed his temple and whispered words of love from my mother and from me, and I then sat with them for around 2 hours before I had to call my mother to let her know her father was about to draw his last couple of breaths. "How do you know? How does anyone know?", she frantically shouted into the phone. I just knew, we all did. It was the hardest phone call I have ever made. A moment later my grandfather drew his last breath.

We see and hear stories of death every day. They never fail to sadden me in some way, but, with no disrespect whatsoever, there is often an element of disconnection when you are not directly involved with that life. It makes it no more or less sad than my loss - in fact, my grandfather lived a long and eventful life and was fortunate to have endured and experienced 87 years on this earth. Many are not nearly as fortunate and I acknowledge that. Still, I feel a sadness in relation to his death and our family's loss. I still cannot look at his photo without getting teary. He will be greatly missed.

Though I have little funeral attendance experience, I will say the service was pleasant. I'd even go as far as to say it was a 'nice' service - under the circumstances. My grandfather would probably agree.

My mother had asked me not only to write the eulogy, but to also read it at the service. I agreed instantly, however, prior to the service I had become quite nervous and anxious about the whole thing. I honestly did not believe I could get through it without falling apart.

I had words with the celebrant prior to the service to discuss proceedings and formalities. I also had words with my grandfather in the bathroom just before the service started, asking him to give me the strength to get through this tribute without bursting into tears - I told him if I cried it would set everyone off and that would not be good because I had a story to tell - HIS story!

"Hello", I think is what I started with. Anything that was not written down is now a bit of a blur. "Not a bad turn out for an old fellow", I do remember saying... but I don't remember hearing anyone laugh. My grandfather would have. I needed to use some of his dry humour to get me through this delivery. It worked and I proudly told his story, and eventually even got a few smiles and chuckles from a very tough crowd.

When Lara's Theme was played at the beginning of the service, I saw my grandfather, dancing and smiling, as if to say it was ok... HE was ok.

Lara's Theme is the name of a piece of music written for the film Doctor Zhivago (1965) by composer Maurice Jarre. It then became the basis of the song - Somewhere My Love. I thought the words were quite fitting, as though my grandfather was saying this as he danced off the stage...

Somewhere, my love, there will be songs to sing
Although the snow covers the hopes of Spring
Somewhere a hill blossoms in green and gold
And there are dreams, all that your heart can hold
Someday we'll meet again, my love
Someday whenever the Spring breaks through

You'll come to me out of the long-ago
Warm as the wind, soft as the kiss of snow
Till then, my sweet, think of me now and then
Godspeed, my love, till you are mine again

Someday we'll meet again, my love
I said "someday whenever that Spring breaks through"

You'll come to me out of the long-ago
Warm as the wind, and as soft as the kiss of snow
Till then, my sweet, think of me now and then
Godspeed, my love, till you are mine again!

I received much praise at the conclusion of the service, but I gave all the credit to my grandfather - after all, it was his life that made the story I told so remarkable.

My Opa - Part 1 (re-edited 31.7)

2009-07-29T23:38:00.025+10:00

Yesterday I paid $15 to watch my grandfather pass away. It was a shit day. The parking fee afterwards was like rubbing salt in a wound. I laughed awkwardly at the ridiculousness of it, as I imagined the machine saying, "thanks for coming, hope you enjoyed the show!"

The handsome figure above is that of Boris; son, brother, soldier, saviour, survivor, nomad, husband, father, migrant, builder, provider, grandfather, great grandfather and a truly great man. He was born in Smolensk, Russia on the 3rd of March 1922 and sadly passed away here in Melbourne, Australia on the 28th July 2009. He lived a remarkable 87 years.

My mother, pictured above centre, and below left, has asked me to write a eulogy and speak at the service as she feels she cannot. I of course agreed and am using my blog as a bit of a first draught.

Boris was one of five children and at the age of 16 he left whatever known comforts family living had offered and marched off to military school as a cadet where he spent the best part of the next two years, with the occasional visit home to see his family. At the age of 18 he marched away from the school and his family for good and marched off to fight in World War II. He never saw his parents or siblings again.

World War II ended in 1945. Fortunately my grandfather survived. Unfortunately, returning to his birthplace of Russia, was not really an option for him. Instead, he walked from Poland to Germany, where he was taken in by the Americans and declared ‘without a country’, therefore a nomad.

It was in Germany, that same year, he met my grandmother, Kate. No doubt she swept him off his feet with her good looks and flamboyant nature, just as I am sure she was smitten by his dashingly handsome features and masculine charm…. Eventually! For as I only recently found out – there is a little more to the story than the boring old ‘love at first sight’. My grandmother tells me they met at the house of the local tailor. It just so happened that one day whilst my grandmother was there, Boris walked in to have a new pair of trousers altered. Apparently he took one look at Kate and asked “who are you?” Not wasting any time, he then smugly professed that he would come back the next day and take her out!

He did come back the following day - however, Kate was nowhere to be found. Determined to win this frauline over, he managed to find out where she lived and marched on over to her house, only to be greeted by Kate’s stern, and not so impressed mother, who promptly told him to go away.

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. And that is exactly what Boris did. He even went as far as to place oranges that he’d purchased from the black market on Kate’s windowsill and would write on them “from Colombia”. Fortunately for Boris he had somehow already won over Kate’s father with his desirable American cigarettes, but Kate and her mother were yet to be convinced that this nomad could offer them anything of substance. Eventually however, whether it was the oranges or not I can’t say, Kate gave in and went out with this persistent man. The date can’t have gone too badly because she continued seeing him after that – with or without the oranges.

They married on April 22, 1947 in a tiny church in my grandmother’s hometown of Gunzenhausen.

In October that same year my mother was born. This makes me laugh. I imagine that alone made them somewhat rebels or non-conformists for their time. It explains a lot about the following two generations. (My guess is that they really were good oranges!) Good on them I say, for that unity of their marriage lasted an outstanding 62 years!

Two years later, in October, my grandparents and my then one year old mother boarded a ship to Australia. The journey took them one whole month, during which time the men were separated from the women and children. My mother not only had her 2nd birthday as they crossed the equator, she was also very ill whilst travelling causing my grandmother much distress. Fortunately however, the three of them arrived on Australian shores safely and in good health in November 1949.

The family were positioned, along with many other migrants of that time, at Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre, where I believe again, the men's quarters were separate from those of the women and children. The men were sent off to work in various factories like the power station and the sugar factory, without any particular trade. With a little money under his belt, he set out to find accommodation for his young family, during which time my grandmother and mother waited in anticipation at Bonegilla, for around 2 weeks, for the news of a new abode and a new beginning.

After Bonegilla, my grandfather was contracted to Newport Power Station for two years. The family moved in with an Australian fellow in somewhat of a ‘communal’ bungalow-style dwelling and continued to learn and adapt to their new culture and environment. Determined to throw everything he had into this new life, full of new opportunities, my grandfather spent his weekends laying the foundations for a new family home on the of land he had managed to buy in Altona for around 100pounds.

On April 21, 1950 my uncle Harry came into this world – one day before my grandparents 3rd wedding anniversary. This addition now completed the ‘household’. All he had to do now, was complete the house.

After many laborious weekends, he did just that, and I am proud to say, the house still stands today.

Once settled into their new family home, Boris decided to study via night time correspondance, whilst continuing to work days, with a view to becoming a draughtsman. He officially achieved that goal, which made him proud as punch, in August 1960 when he received his diploma from the British Institute of Engineering Technology. After completing his contract with the Power Station and working various factory jobs, he gained employment as a Draughtsman with a company called Gerard, where he worked for over 25 years, until he retired at the age of 65.

Each year after his retirement brought a little more gentleness to his character, though his spirit remained as strong as an Ox.

He was a loyal family man, with a dry sense of humour and a strong sense of pride. And we, his family and all those who loved him were, and still are, so very proud of him.

And in closing, four lines that he would often recite, from the novel Spring Torrents by Russian author Ivan Turgenev

Days so happy
Years so gay
Like spring torrents
Have passed away.

Lady Bug

2009-07-24T11:37:00.005+10:00

‘She was already a star in my eyes. She was manic, passionate, obsessive, miserable, even a little bit neurotic - the stuff I always believed artists were made of – the stuff I could so easily relate to. I loved her from the word go. She had a frantic energy that allowed you no other choice but to notice her and pay attention. She could also paint. Her work was great and possessed that same frenetic energy as her personality – and why wouldn’t it – it was HERS.’

I thought about her yesterday when Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones started playing on my i-pod whilst walking to the bus stop. I had a vision of her dancing in her bedroom like some kind of praying mantis-like Goddess.

I have not had a car now for 18 months – (since a man in a ute drove into the front of my car and the insurance company declared it a write off – they handed me a cheque for some measly amount but by the time it finally arrived, after all the stuffing around, the money had already been spent) – I’ve since realised just how much I took having a vehicle for granted – mostly for the simplest and closest of tasks.

I very rarely ventured too far from home even when I had a car, especially since my parents moved to the N.S.W border. My main reason for heading into the city used to be to visit them… or my Melbourne gallery, who I left last year after a six-year relationship, of which 2 or 3 were quite tumultuous. Most of my work is now exhibited interstate or overseas so I have even less reason to travel to Melbourne.

So, back to my walk yesterday. She entered my thoughts and I wanted to write about her. The words just began to arrange themselves in my head and I was so disappointed I did not have my pen and notebook with me. I used to always carry them with me but have slacked off in recent times due to a lack of inspiration. I find it so much harder to write now than say, 2 years ago… so when I do get the urge it is frustrating to not have the utensils I need to make them permanent.

I drink a lot less than I used to. I often wonder whether this plays a part in me writing less now than I did then. I pretty much wrote every day back then. Whether it was poetry, short stories, diary/blog entries, random obscure emails or just stream of consciousness, (which later got labelled psychobabble by a reader) – whatever it was I was always able to write easily and freely. Perhaps my consumption of alcohol allowed me to be less inhibited – who knows. I do know that whilst walking to the bus stop yesterday and having all these thoughts race through my head, I felt like running back home and opening a bottle of wine and Microsoft word. Instead, I went to work and lost my mojo.

It’s weird; I struggle with the same inhibitions when it comes to my painting. The first word is like the first mark on a blank canvas. Intimidating.

I paint for myself, just as I write for myself – FOR ME… and I don’t hide my work because I feel there is nothing to be ashamed of. If others choose to view or read it is their prerogative. So why do I feel this intimidation? Will I be 40 before I finally say, “I don’t give a fuck! I’m just going to do it!”? What am I really afraid of?

I’m writing this morning. On an empty stomach. No alcohol has been consumed. I had an awful, broken sleep… it’s an effort to find the words but I am determined.

‘We met in Sydney. The meeting was for business but quickly became a pleasure. We fast became ‘friends’ and I religiously travelled to Sydney for a number of her shows. I even purchased a work of hers, a self-portrait, on my second or third visit. It hangs proudly in my living room.

I stayed at her place a few times – every trip it was a different location. We’d talk about art and pain. We’d drink tea and I’d passively smoke her second-hand tobacco. She introduced me to the likes of Louise Bourgeois and we would write sad and beautiful prose whilst listening to Tom Waits. If we ventured out we would walk the streets of Paddington weaving in and out of galleries.

She had the ability to force answers out of me to questions I did not even realise existed within me – about myself, and about my art. My head would always spin after our conversations – but it was invigorating.

I was always a little bit in awe of her though I never really knew just why. She openly expressed so many things that I seemed to suppress, and I am hardly a shy or introverted person. I looked up to her, even though she was tinier than me. She was like a ladybug on speed… always feminine and always frantic. Her energy made me both happy and sad at the same time.

She would sometimes disappear. She could often never explain.

If I was her lover, I just know she would have broken my heart.

I miss her. I often look at her painting and wonder how she is. I hope she is ok.’

Perhaps I’ll write her.

Come What May (go what WAS May)

2009-06-12T13:40:00.004+10:00

May came and went like some kind of whirlwind. I can't remember much of it other than work. It's now June, the month that has seen me get back into the studio after a reluctant absence. I'd be so much more productive if I had an extra 3 hours in every day - (preferably with daylight).

I am finding it harder and harder to paint under artificial light. I have tried a variety of globes/wattages, lamps and flood lights - nothing compares with natural light, but with shorter daylight hours over Winter, my window of opportunity is currently limited.

I recently managed to complete my 8 weeks of boot camp. It was like nothing I have ever done before and as much as I struggled with certain parts of it and found it a huge physical and mental challenge, I enjoyed the overall experience and despite ongoing body 'soreness', I feel I have benefited from my efforts. So much so that yesterday saw me run 10km without stopping. I surprised even myself with that effort. I must thank Naomi for suggesting it and motivating me to do it. Running with someone else really does make a difference - in one way it pushes you harder than you might push yourself, yet on the same hand it somehow makes it feel easier... maybe because someone else is feeling the same pain!

My increased physical exercise has certainly helped my creative mind. It has provided me with some much needed clarity which has allowed some fantastic and exciting ideas for new work. Now it's just a matter of finding the time to apply myself.

Day 35 (Finale)

2009-04-16T20:15:00.002+10:00

Today is the last day of Project 35 but was only the second session of boot camp.
As one project finishes... another is just beginning.
7 weeks to go and counting.

Day 34 (1 Down, 15 to Go)

2009-04-15T19:55:00.000+10:00

The first session of bootcamp yesterday morning was hard, but despite the body aches and exhaustion it is somehow managing to motivate me. I never realised it would be such an emotional experience.
8 weeks of this. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 5:50am. Thursday will hurt.

Day 33 (Bootcamp ain't no Bandcamp)

2009-04-14T21:41:00.000+10:00

Day 32 (Numb)

2009-04-13T21:02:00.000+10:00

Day 31 (Pick Up This)

2009-04-12T23:00:00.000+10:00

I didn't have a very good day.

Day 30 (Masquerade)

2009-04-11T23:46:00.001+10:00

Day 29 (Keep Your Eyes on the Road)

2009-04-10T21:18:00.000+10:00

Day 28 (Wash it Out)

2009-04-09T17:13:00.000+10:00

Day 27 (Anxiety)

2009-04-08T21:47:00.002+10:00

Day 26 (Taking Time to Reflect)

2009-04-07T12:22:00.001+10:00

Day 25 (Lady With the Spinning Head)

2009-04-06T21:52:00.001+10:00

Day 24 (Fair's Fair)

2009-04-05T21:55:00.002+10:00

Day 23 (Blah Blah Blur)

2009-04-04T23:53:00.001+11:00

Day 22 (Outside the Square)

2009-04-03T17:09:00.000+11:00

Day 21 (Two, One)

2009-04-02T17:05:00.000+11:00

Day 20 (Didn't Fool Me)

2009-04-01T17:33:00.000+11:00

Day 19 (Hey La Hey La)

2009-03-31T16:14:00.002+11:00

Day 18 (Reunion)

2009-03-30T23:26:00.002+11:00

Day 17 (Forget About the Working Week)

2009-03-29T23:42:00.002+11:00

Day 16 (Silence)

2009-03-28T23:17:00.000+11:00

Day 15 (Distraction)

2009-03-27T12:17:00.003+11:00

Day 14 (Creative Constipation)

2009-03-26T15:45:00.000+11:00

I sat in the studio
for a good part of the day
I pushed and pushed
but nothing
happened...

Day 13 (Wednesday)

2009-03-25T20:39:00.007+11:00

Wednesday for Wednesday....

Day 12 (In the Name of the Father)

2009-03-24T13:00:00.002+11:00

Day 11 (Work, Rest and Play)

2009-03-23T22:58:00.005+11:00

I am going to post my 11th image and have a little rant before I fall asleep as I am so very tired this evening.

I listened to part of an interview with Irish musician Luka Bloom on RRR today. I did not tune in specifically to hear the interview, it just happened to come on the car radio as I pulled up in the supermarket car park. I don't follow Luka's music but I did go and see him play live a number of years ago - perhaps 8 or 9 years ago. I was made aware of him as a musician through his cover, (and very different take), of what was originally a rap song titled 'I need love'.

I remember enjoying his performance but never bought an album. I think you can still appreciate certain musicians/artists work without having to purchase it. The internet seems to make it easier for the world to do this these days, everything is becoming more and more accessible through the world wide web. He, (Luka), touched on this point when talking about his latest album - stating that he still believes music fans should go to a record store to buy music not download it from the internet. I guess a similar thing applies when talking about art - (though sometimes buying artwork through a gallery is not the most financially beneficial way of selling for an artist) - but the internet does make art or images sometimes feel a lot less 'exclusive'.

It's a fantastic marketing tool but like everything in life it has its good points and bad points. Either way I do think it is important to support those who make the music or art in a way that sees the creator truly benefit as a result of their hard work... and it is 'work'. Another point Mr. Bloom mentioned about making 'art' or in his case music and songwriting - that it IS work... sometimes hard work. I think a lot of people do not understand that about any sort of 'artist'. His words rang so near and dear when he said that it is fantastic when the inspiration is there and everything is flowing but when it's not, it's hard work... he sees making his 'art' as his job, and like any other job you have your good and bad days but you must still 'go to work'. For most people I know, with any sort of job, at times comes some sort of stress - making art is no exception. Sometimes a day of staring at blank canvases and asking yourself questions to which there are no answers can be just as 'stressful' as working a 9.5 hour shift on a frantically busy restaurant with the most demanding and thankless customers.

When the inspiration IS there however, it is the BEST job in the world! Stress or no stress - there is nothing else I would rather be.

Day 10 (Tick Tock)

2009-03-22T23:43:00.002+11:00

I am finding it hard to keep my eyes open. And whilst this post may seem a half arsed effort, it's a post none the less... and an effort. I miss C and I miss Z's.

Day 9 (When the Eyes Tell the Time)

2009-03-21T23:37:00.003+11:00

My working day started at 5:30am and ended at 11:30pm, with not a second spent in the studio. I almost missed project curfew today... and whilst I felt a little rushed to include a 'self portrait' for the day - it is probably the most real to date as everything, including my creative mind, is just a little exhausted on this day.

Day 8 (Procrastinate)

2009-03-20T16:11:00.001+11:00

I often wonder if all artists have the same fears.

Day 7 (Double Exposure)

2009-03-19T22:58:00.006+11:00

I could not decide on an image for today. I had fun with my ideas - perhaps so much so that I could not decide on a single image. I asked C and I struggled to agree with his opinion... though I must say I do enjoy involving him in my little creative projects. It's a way of sharing a major part of me with the one I love. I don't always agree with his opinions but they are always valued and respected.

So while I chose the above image, he chose the below one.

I also want to make mention of the fabulous EMPTY magazine, discovered through another online artist and after sending them my credit card details on Monday, their current issue arrived in my letterbox today. I was most impressed with the publication and look forward to the next issue.

Day 6 (Pictorial)

2009-03-18T22:17:00.004+11:00

I have
no
words
today.

Day 5 (Keeping the Rythym)

2009-03-17T22:10:00.008+11:00

In relation to yesterday's post, or at least the title, I've made a decision to compose all images of Project 35 in a square format.

I remember an old lecturer at Melbourne School of Art, (at which I attended part time from the age of 16-18 but never really completed a full course), that a square format/composition was the most challenging. Of course, this may not be everyone's opinion but since that day I have challenged myself to many a square composition and failed as much as I have succeeded.

Recently, after sending 4 works (2 square and 2 rectangular) over to New York for a 6 woman show in October last year, Ad Hoc Director, Andrew Michael Ford wrote to me with feedback on the show and my work stating ~

I personally feel that you work better in the square format, and that has been the general consensus about your work. This is of course regardless of size. You just happened to do small squares which many people enjoyed more than the rectangular pieces.

I find the square extremely dynamic as well as challenging, and whilst some of my Project 35 images will work in this format, and some will not, I am using each image, and the editing of, as a way of exploration of this format.

I thought about skipping a day today, as I am already tired of the 'self portrait image', (after only 5 days!)... but it is not about that - it is about the discipline. As simple and even bland as today's image is, it is also very symbolic, or related very closely to my most recent paintings of waitress vs artists - or on a broader scale me vs me. The tug of war. The double life. Wanting to be two places at once... and of course that B word that is BALANCE.

Day 4 (Squaring Things Up)

2009-03-16T17:31:00.001+11:00

Day 3 (Sunday's my Friday)

2009-03-15T18:01:00.006+11:00

I was fortunate enough recently to discover, or perhaps 'uncover', the generosity of a number of Australian artists.

Whilst many people are claiming to be 'bushfired out' - which I find a really strange term - it is evident that the devastation caused by the recent Victorian bushfires still effects many, both directly and empathetically. Just watching this evening's news and seeing footage of last night's Bushfire Aid concerts, with 81,000 attending the Victorian gig, is confirmation that the majority of Australians just want to contribute 'something' as a way of a donation to this appeal.

I knew I was not in a position to donate a lot of money personally, so I contacted the very generous and empathetic Mark Jamieson, (director of Brunswick Street Gallery), about holding a charity art auction, who quickly said yes to lending me a hand and donating the gallery space. I could not have put it all together without his help, and of course the help and generosity of the artists who donated work and the volunteers who donated time... and last but not least - despite the weather being hideous that night - the people who came out to support the event and purchase art in the name of charity.

Of course, with the current economic status, people weren't spending big dollars, but as a collective, we managed to raise just short of $13,500 for the Australian Red Cross Bushfire Appeal, as well as give people the opportunity to own some great art for the cost of a humble donation.

Day 2 (Without Words)

2009-03-14T17:29:00.000+11:00