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Archive for July, 2008

Stitched

I don’t flatter myself that it is sashiko in the proper sense of the word – or even embroidery, but I’ve been mucking around with thread and pattern, and light and shade within it and having a bit of fun.

And it was fun. 🙂

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Busy week….  Broadband is restricted. …

Stitching, sewing, painting, planning.  Don’t worry if I’m a bit quiet, there’ll be stuff to show for it. 😉

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the cracks

I think, sometimes that it is easy to see a crack. To follow that crack – see where it branches out and the possible spin-offs – to look at the spin-offs and where they lead.  To see a blemished whole.  To see a failing of some sort.

I’ve done it.  And it is a very scary and adrenalin-fuelled way to live.  I think there can be a sort of addictive thrill (even if it isn’t a conscious one) in balancing on the edge of something.  Trouble is, a power-surge like that burns you out and leaves you exhausted instead of ready for the next challenge – which you expect will be imminent.  And because you are expecting it, it will be imminent – at the supermarket, an accident waiting to happen, a slight, a miscalculation.  You knew it.

I read recently that the secret to getting over this pattern is to look at the facts.  Just the immediate facts and carry on.  Don’t follow that crack in other words.  If the bowl is still whole, it is whole.  There is no spin-off, and the crack (if there is one) may be only on the surface. Adding to life’s experiences and making a beautiful pattern in retrospect that let other things into your life that you never expected.

And I love a bit of crazing in the glaze.

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spur

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. 🙂

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the lack of

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….

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Twist

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.

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shadow boxing

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. 🙂

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