So I went to the hardware store yesterday.  Mainly because I was too lazy to drive all the way to the place where I normally get my stretcher-bars and linen, and because there was a day free (today) to experiment.

And I bought wood.

Plywood.  Making up measurements as the man kindly sawed the chosen piece of plywood into panels for painting on.

Oooh.

Last night gesso, and gesso, and gesso.

And today painting, and dreaming.  I hope it goes well.  This might be a little turning point for me and I’m quite excited.

Been thinking a lot about white and of how it speaks to something deep down.

About purity.

A cover up.  A fresh face.  The fullness of a vacant space.

The capacity and promise of a blank piece of paper.

The beauty of a white bowl waiting to be filled with scones straight from the oven.  Whipped cream, silver spoons and a clean tablecloth.  Girls in white linen dresses and bare feet.  Shiny teeth and clear eyes.

I have noticed (because I am absurdly prone to self-analysis) that whenever I have had a period of rest and resume blogging, there will be a spate of white photos.  Calming, soothing, textured, peaceful.

As I get busier, so do the photos, clashing, colourful, cheerful and busy, and busy and busy…..

I do love colour,  and it sings to me of marvellous possibilities, but there is something in white and paleness that is universally appealing, and I might just explore that in my painting for a while.  Not quite sure how to make it work yet, and there will certainly be more than that to it, but I am thinking that it might be an interesting approach for my solo show next year.

White….

I am untangling, paring down, resting, consolidating.  Planning, perusing, consoling, carousing.  Reading, and doodling, absorbing, wafting and clearing.

Shaking dust from corners, letting new air flow through.  Shivering slightly and preparing for the new.

New inspiration, new directions, new plans, new thrills.  Next steps.

Nothing to show but another cocoon.  Always uncomfortable, but always worth it.

Sometimes, as an artist, it can be so effortless, and sometimes it can be gruelling.  Sometimes you don’t know if the work was not up to scratch, or the canvas was too  large, or the pricing wasn’t right, or the show was not right, or the timing was not right for the person who fell in love with your work on the day.

I tend to put my head down, and keep showing up with a smile on my face, accepting the little knocks as those natural troughs and valleys that are there to be endured, or as bad luck, or as my turn to be the vessel for that disappointment.

I love a sale.  The affirmation that the work is good, and appreciated, and worth the effort and that it has made someone feel good to have it and keep it.

Not making a sale, when you have put in full effort, paid to show your work, had your images and name used in advertising and promotion and not even getting a thank-you for it can feel kind of deflating.  And there have been times over the years where I have had candid discussions with organisers or gallery staff and realised that it was never about the art or the artists participating - it was a money-making venture, and you were already in the balance sheet before you delivered your work.  It’s not a nice feeling.

I am getting to the point now in my exhibiting career where I think I will start saying no more.  Where the shows will be less frequent and more carefully considered.

With a solo booked in for April next year, and more shows lined up for this year, I am going to be very careful about what I commit to and why.  It is gruelling and not always rewarding artistically or financially to do whatever presents itself (within reason).

My goals for next year include the solo at Red Hill, Finding a suitable gallery interstate, a few smaller shows that have been a pleasure to be involved with this year, and focusing more on my family, who are after all what it’s all about.

Onward and upwards.

It is very exciting to me to see my little ones draw.  The see what comes out.  To see the colours that they choose and see what is important and emphasised.

Zara drew this the other day and it couldn’t be more perfect to me.  The simple colour choices, the stylised and confident forms, the careful choice of texta crayon and pencil for different areas in the drawing.

I know it is a childs drawing but I aspire to it.  That freedom, lack of tension and restrained pallette is fresh and beautiful.  Even the fact that it is on crinkled paper appeals to me.  It is one to be framed for sure.

I am building quite a collection………….

I love colour. LOVE it!

So how the hell did this happen…..

The reverse side of an unattractive print. The white shadows are fascinating. This is destined to be a summer dress for my girl, and perhaps a skirt for me if I’m very lucky.

A dark grey slightly felted wool with laser cut petal-shaped holes, which I loved on the roll, imagined as a very simple lined coat, and am now scared of. Will the holes fray with wear? Will it be reduced to shreds in a year? I have considered top-stitching, which could be interesting, but it would ne waaaaay to fiddly.

I may wash a small sample and see what happens just for the fun of it.

Black and pinky/grey rectangular check in a textured and actually weirdly stretchy fabric. Destined to be a wrap-dress that is either going to be completely fabulous or kind of awful……. It was so cheap I couldn’t resist it for the experiment.

This one is seriously fabulous. Black and white honey-comb wool. On the reverse it looks like snakeskin. It rocks so utterly much. Destined to be two skirts - one modest and a-line and black and white, the flip-side snakeskin and assymetrical, perhaps with an underskirt poking out - longer at the back like Zara’s kangaroo skirt.

I walked away with an armful of fabric, took it home and thought - dull. My paintings are so colourful, and my clothes are getting more muted by the day. My favourite colours to wear are grey and navy, with red thrown in from time to time. It’s becoming a weird uniform. Not sure if I should be proud of myself or if I need a good shake-up. ;P

I need you….

It is hard to make a website for oneself. How to break up works is not an easy decision. By date? By series? by subject matter?

I decided to break it up by series and by date and have both listed. I hope it makes sense.

And then there is the small matter of a header. Should it be plain? Should it say something? What should it say?

I decided to use a photograph of plain stretched canvases ready to be finished. It is the half way point for me. The precipice. The moment where the linen stops being beautiful for its simplicity and symmetrical stretched form and starts to metamorphose into something with a completely different energy. And this is where what I do becomes important, so I’m hoping it is a fittingly descriptive image - though I don’t expect anyone else to completely understand.

If you have the time and would care to give me feedback I would appreciate it.

www.michellegiacobello.com

Thank you.

I like:

and

from The Carrotbox thank you Design for mankind.

I like

from Berrocco - and the patterns are free. Thank you Kirsten.

I like this

Not sure if it’s the photo or the rucksack, or the fact that the pattern is free…..

I like this

because even after a lifetime of looking at his pictures, I never get tired of Mr Munch. And always find him inspiring.

I like this

And just became a Flickr ‘pro’. Curiously addictive and marvellously inspiring. I love that the world is full of generous people who give of themselves and their idea of beauty so readily. I love cruising other peoples favourites and finidh beautiful things I would never have seen otherwise. Here are mine.

I love this

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Feeling good, feeling happy, feeling loved, feeling grateful, feeling peaceful. Feeling like going for a walk in ther sunshine. Catch you later.

Just us today, 92cm x 102cm - oil on linen.

New work (as was yesterday’s painting for the Brighton Art Show, which is on this weekend. Go here for details

Hearty thanks to Al for letting me use her photo as a reference.

That day with the water balloon. 102cm x 92cm.  Oil on linen, 2008.