How things grow...

A seriously bad stitch up photo that shows these little paintings as they stand today - another week and the collection may look a little different depending on which eyes I'll be wearing!

Terrain in Nelson for the Arts Festival

Well here it is - the invitation to Terrain. Nice to be moving towards having this body of work finished and lovely to be showing during the festival at Red Gallery. If you're in Nelson over that time call in. I'm also showing the last 2 large paper works and small framed postcards - so there will be a mixture of scales and media. I'm getting excited now !

Dali at the NVG

A week or two ago, on Fathers Day (what were we thinking?) I visited the Salvadore Dali exhibition 'Liquid Desire' at the NVG in Melbourne. (13 June - 4 October)

I'm not a Dali fan, but it does hold a certain retro fascination for me. I was looking forward to seeing a broader range of his work than those familiar pieces we all associate with this somewhat 'outre' artist, especially his drawings, sculptures and photographic experiments with space.

It's the first time I've really come up against a large show where the experience of the art is so plainly influenced by the quality of the curating.
Aside from the size of the crowds - which were pretty unbearable and snail paced, I thought the design of the exhibition did no favours to the enormous number of works on show.

In the first 'room', ceiling to floor small works from Dali's early years were hung as close as postage stamps. Delicate and bizarre little drawings were displayed about a foot or two from the floor, or higher than eye level and crammed together so that appreciating their simplicity or individuality was difficult.
Large, closely spaced tracts of dense wall information were everywhere, to tell the unedited story of his career. Their indigestability served to prevent crowd flow or conversely deterred people from taking in the information at all, and the walls of further round rooms were carpeted in vertical 150 mm wide striped grey and charcoal plush fabric.
It was difficult to separate the experience of the show from the artwork - and intensely claustrophobic.

In all a disappointment. I didn't see any elephants on stilts - my favourite piece, and the jewelery though beautiful was mounted in view cases at breast height (which made for rather comic visions of visitor interaction). The sculptures dotted about were fascinating, though few.

I really wish I could be more positive about the show - it was a major one and there were some stunning pieces in it.
My partner loved it, so of the 4 of us one was content that he'd seen an amazing exhibition on Fathers Day - the rest of us were happy for that !

Hidden routes

I've been playing with using varnish as a medium to make images or to add information to my paintings - it's fun to explore. Gloss over matt has the most obvious success, but semi-gloss is a more subtle sister and may be useful to layer too. I like that it's a light painting - or to be more accurate, a shine painting. These small works are coming along...

Terrains

Gonner

The painting on the extreme right in my last post didn't earn it's place, so on Saturday I replaced it. With a worse one! Oh well... it happens.

Recently I've been rereading from the pages of What we Ache For by Oriah Mountain Dreamer;

I know, it sounds a little mystical doesn't it, but trust me it isn't - there are gems in there and on second reading I still think so.

She talks about the fertile silence required as a vital component of the creative process. How ensuring there is enough empty time in your life to come to some stillness and just be is often what facilitates the flow - and with it the joy of the unexpected outcome.

'We cannot begin our creative work if we do not have an idea of where we are going, the intent to write or paint or compose, and a practice that takes us into the process.
But we cannot continue in a way that is faithful to the creative process unless, after beginning, we loosen our grip on the original idea and allow room for something else to happen, something that produces more than what we could produce from our knowledge and will alone. And we cannot let go, cannot surrender to the creative process itself, unless we can find some stillness to allow ourselves to stay there where the creativity of a fertile and abiding emptiness can find us.'

I think I've been so busy working lately and so focussed on it, that I haven't cultivated enough time to do nothing - and to stay with it for more than a moment. Preconceived notions, anticipated outcomes, necessary planning and deadlines all crowd in from my working week to occupy the creative space - and in order to claim it exclusively I need to make the time I have more 'sacred'.

The answer to the question 'what if empty time, time without plans, tasks, or scheduled events, is a necessary prerequisite for accessing your creative imagination, doing creative work?' is not within my power to action - at least not for the month of August.

A collection of postcards

This little collection is currently hanging in my studio and growing slowly. When you look at them together, it's interesting to note similarities and developments in these little works (all 305 x 405mm). I'm quite liking the scale these canvases - it's do-able with everything else I have on in my life right now.
I'm not sure if the one on the extreme right is finished yet - I'll leave it on the wall a while and think on it - I'm sure it'll come to me why it jars a bit. I think they'll look great all hung together like a patchwork, especially once they're varnished.
I bought 3 varieties of varnish (gloss, semi, and matte) and I want to experiment with lifting keynotes out of the works, or even making work where the information is on the surface texture. That might be fun.

Embodied in paint

Last year in the film festival I saw a movie about Edith Collier, a Wanganui artist of the 1920's who was a friend and fellow painter of Francis Hodgkins and Dorothy Kate Richmond.

What hit me hardest, and the saddest thing; was that once she returned from Europe and London where she explored and mastered her modernst style; she was faced with her community's parochial ideas and her appalled fathers' displeasure at her bold nudes. After an episode where he burnt her paintings, she stopped painting entirely.
It's not just that she stopped that saddened me, but that after she died, the family found a whole trunk of art suppiles she'd gone on collecting throughout her life.

Hopes and dreams embodied in canvas and tubes of paint.

I thought of that today, as I came back to the studio weighed down with the promise of brown paper bags filled with new paint and an arms full of canvasses, and I promised myself to put them to good use, whether or not the results turn out as I hope.

I've been playing with new colours all afternoon. Happy as a sandboy.

Flights of Fancy

An exhibition of new works by Rosalind Atkinson and Leilani Isara

Thistle Hall August 4th -11th

If you get a chance, pop in to Thistle hall and have a look at this show. Rosalind is a recent Massey graduate and her artwork and illustration is very delicate and assured.

The mystery of what's underneath

Under painting reminds me of all things 'under' - mysteriously necessary to give shape and structure, a tantalising glimpse of what's to come (or sometimes a big disappointment if viewed before the beguiling and descriptive top layers are added). Wearing only under painting a painting is colder, flatter and sadly lacking definition.
In order to be complete, you have to have it and so you plough on adding layers over the scrappy flimsy underpinnings that define your idea(l).

Today I got stuck at the under painting stage - incredibly frustrating and a little disappointing since tomorrow's Monday again.
If it was formed of clay, I'd return my work to the mass, throw it into a dark bucket and begin again. Instead, it'll stay on the easel, I'll come in tomorrow and squint with fresh eyes at what it is I'm struggling to express.

There's the soft red of the background for a start; traditionally a dominant colour, I've been forcing it to recede all day and wanting it to be a foil for the many whites... it isn't happy ! Then there's the skin tones, the motion blur that isn't and various stickiness experiments. Sigh.

I think today might be one of those days - full of creative learning and some momentum but no visible progress.
It's been nice to be in the studio nevertheless, and now that the light's finally slipped away I will too.

Stillpoint

Stillpoint 750 x 500mm

Here's my painting from Sunday - I'm still deciding whether to reduce all the busyness from the background... at the moment I'm OK with it because I like the way the eye scans the painting for sense before it rests on the face of the dervish - which is so still.
I might go see Anna at the French Art Shop and talk to her about 'stickiness' mediums for my paint though, I'm not ready to relinquish the acrylics yet, but I wish I could push and blend the paint more before it dries so that some of my my marks are more blended. Sorry my photograph is so average - it is actually very rich like this though.

Painting in the flow

"Only let the moving waters calm down, and the sun and moon will be reflected on the surface of your being." -Rumi

While on the subject of Sufi poets and rituals, this quote describes my day.

Painting stillness in the midst of movement is a lovely challenge.
A whole day at my easel is the best kind of nourishment you can have after a late Saturday and a broken night .
I spent the day painting in the flow today, (not just moments of it) and it raced by while I worked on oblivious. Now I feel as if I can face my week - my piled up jobs, patiently waiting clients and urgent tasks will go easier... I'll see if I can photograph my painting from today, but I'm not sure about the background just yet so it might be a work in progress still.

Spinning out of nothingness

Photo still from video footage by Marcel Baaijens (and the rest by me!)

Eastern music, haunting ancient Persian prayers, the wind of the whirling skirts as they pass and the stillness of the cloaked turners 'in their graves' ... the experience I had last night was both enchanting and haunting. I'm moved and inspired to paint.

Turn Turn Turn

On the day that Michael Jackson died I'm going to a Mukabeleh to watch whirling dervishes turn.
Sounds like a great first line of a novel doesn't it?

Through a nice turn of events (yes, I'll stop now) a small design job for a group of Wellington sufi's has enabled me to attend their ceremony with my sketch pad a camera and my friend Marcel with his video camera. I'm hoping I can come home with some imagery to draw from - dervish turning was on my mindmap a year or so ago, as a form of non verbal communication that I might investigate - in part because of the wonder at the movement.
I do like serendipity don't you? I'm looking forward to it and hopefully I'll have some images I can post here soon.

“We come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust” Rumi

Roughing out an idea

Well that's done it !

Yesterday I had a call from Red Gallery in Nelson because NZ House and Garden magazine are doing an editorial on the Nelson Arts Festival for their September issue and I needed to describe my coming show at Red in October for the editorial... Yikes! It's creeping up fast and I need tying down.

Think quickly, be decisive Adele !

...So yes, focusing on working up the little postcards, and thinking about the 'cartography of the body' as Ondaatje so beautifully puts it... I came up with a title for my upcoming show, and a theme which allows me to explore either the huge seam of the body markings (with all it's possible textures and oubliettes for the brain art) or if time turns against me, the little terrains.

And that's what I'll call it - Terrain

Here's my description.

The subjects of her paintings are imaginary maps, places evoked by emotional
journeys or travels and suggestive of postcards or fragments of abstract
cartography. Adele is interested in the maps we leave as indelible marks on
those we meet and the lasting impressions we take on and add to ourselves.
These smaller paintings are the first foray into a larger body of work to come and
though their scale is intimate, her characteristic mix of line and mark making is
still present.

That should do the trick I hope.

Small works

Crossings 305 x 405

Another little painting by me, this one is more a map of an emotional terrain. It's from the Postcards series.

Gallery crawl anyone?

I picked up this little flyer recently for a show that's just opened at Solander and I can see I'm going to have to do a bit of a gallery crawl this weekend. These hand coloured prints by Manuel Lau look lovely and I want to see them for myself.

Loose and lush - permission to paint he said

V Bank (conversation) by Steven Hemmens

VIII Seven sisters (The Women of Jerusalem) by Steven Hemmens

These paintings are by Steven Hemmens from his show Some Stations on the Way to the Cross and they're at Bowen Galleries for a few more days. This morning my mate Paul insisted I went to see them with him. He took my hand - 'close your eyes' he said - 'now open ! ' Permission to paint he said. And they are... I feel very moved. When a good friend says you need to get out of your head and paint from somewhere else - it gives you a jolt. Enough said - except see them if you can before they return to the UK with the artist because they are lovely.

What is it with these two schools of thought about making art and how can I find a middle ground from which to express freely?

Postcards

Wilds 305 x 405mm

I forgot to mention, I've begun to paint the small postcards that I made late last year - and in particular the one in the Joy of Line header. I'm interested to see if they'll stand on their own, if they'll develop or if they remain pleasing abstract landscapes and small maps.
Think this one has kept the intent of the drawing without losing too much to the paint. I'm happy with it. Wonder if they'd scale up a bit bigger?

The body as a map

Today I'm thinking about this quote by Michael Ondaatje from The English Patient:

'We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves...' 'I believe in such cartography ... to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste and experience...'

And the idea that we are tangibly transformed through learning and through our experiences.

I've been scanning a book online, called Curriculum: Toward New Identities by William Pinar.
Although this book is essentially a collection of essays about learning and the curriculum, it contains some wonderful ideas and a number of the passages simply jumped off the page at me today.
The authors Dennis J Sumara and Brent Davis of the chapters entitled Unskinning curriculum and Marked bodies talk about the sense of self-identity being (I quote)

'not contained within the boundaries of one's skin, but instead, occurs more ambiguously and tentatively amid the interstices of various interacting and overlapping phenomena. What is considered individual and what is considered communal cannot be caught within fixed immutable categories, but unfold through the continual fusing of perceptions, understandings and interpretations. Any conscious sense of self is always an interpretation of lived, remembered and projected experiences.'

... they go on to talk about unskinning or removing recognisable markers - stripping back the boundaries we use to identify ourselves and simultaneous remarking of those boundaries.

It's a concept I'm drawn to - and the associated imagery is lovely.
I'm thinking of marked bodies, of intersections and shared spaces, shared marks or markers (like the cinnamon peelers wife perhaps, who lives with the persistence of presence - ah me everything's a circle... back there again. Maybe this time I'll have more success at expressing the idea), shed skins maybe, (how the dye on the dyers bodies in that passage from In the Skin of a Lion just dropped off in one coloured sheet under the warmth of the water, to puddle like a skin newly stepped out of at the dyers feet) ...of the concept of shared identity and souls and of layers of communally shared iconography and stories - that are somehow 'unidirectional'. The imagery is lovely, and there is much to play with you have to agree.

'she wore a small depression on her shoulder' ...