I had a little string

When my two sons were little we had a favourite book (well there were many), which I soon knew off by heart because I had to read it so often. It concerned a ball of string and it went something like this…

“ I had a little string it was no good at all. I went to look for more string to make a string ball.

….”

….. and ended with the words, “with a big ball of string I can do anything, anything, anything, anything at all.”

To two small boys crazy about making and inventing and with a keen sense for mischief and the absurd its popularity is not surprising.

In the book our young friend “borrowed” string from his mother’s and father’s possessions and made a big ball of string which he then used to make a contraption. It was based on a bike, but had lots of attachments. Unfortunately when our friend rode his bike he crashed it into a tree and wrecked it. The next day he woke up with a cold and his mother said he had to stay in bed. Not deterred he then used the remains of his “big ball of string” to make all sorts of levers and pulleys so that he could access all of the things in his room without getting out of bed. It was very Heath Robinson.

I too have something of a fascination with string and have incorporated it into a number of paintings, attaching it to the canvas with impasto gel and then painting the canvas with oils. It can be a very sticky and messy business, especially when there are very small pieces of string involved but despite the work I like the result as it is more three dimensional than a traditional painting. 

Examples of my "string" paintings displayed are from the Flowing and the Falling series.

That's Life

6.45 pm Tuesday: I am walking up to the Firestation (2 Willis St, Armadale, Vic 3143) for our weekly Life Drawing class. My mind starts to fret ... will the person who is on "opening up" duty be there or will there be a group of disconsolate looking people waiting on the doorstep and I will have to run around in circles a lot opening and setting up.

6.55 pm Tuedsay: The model's podium is ready. People are drifting in and setting themselves up with chairs and easels amongst the printing presses. The music is ready, but where is the model? Again my mind starts to fret. Will he/she be late, will he/she turn up at all?

7.15 pm Tuesday: All is well. I know that I should show more trust in humanity. Despite seemingly failsafe procedures there have been occasional disasters which have rather dented my already precarious confidence in the world.

It is quiet apart from soothing music, the scratching of charcoal and the occasional grunt, moan or expletive from the class as they struggle with drawing the ever challenging human form. We do a variety of 2, 5, 10 and 20 minute poses with breaks for the model in between. We all have our favourites. Personally I always seem to be more satisfied with the results of my 20 minute poses (see egs below). During the breaks, new people are introduced and everyone chats amicably.

9.00 pm Tuesday: It is time to pack up. Money has been collected and the model paid. The time has flown.   Everyone seems to have enjoyed themselves. They are a friendly bunch. You could join us some time.

At the moment we are all starting to sort out work we want to put into the third annual That's Life exhibition at the Firestation, which is on at the end of June. Getting it hung will keep me busy. There will be a casual opening on Saturday June 30th. Come along and join us.

Lichenitis

It has been a while since I updated my blog because my 88 year old mother broke her leg at the end of November and I spent a long time running around in circles tending to her needs.

However, things are now returning to normal and with a recent walking holiday in Tasmania where I took many photos to inspire my art I am again making progress.

I think that I have contracted a severe case of "lichenitis." Images of lichen fill my head. I gasp with delight each time I encounter a new variety. My husband shakes his head and rolls his eyes but I am hooked. I just had not been aware of the diversity of form, shape and texture that exists. They are marvellous those little lichens.

If aliens were looking down on us when we were walking in Tasmania they would be wondering what this dishevelled looking woman with a gleam in her eye was doing crouching down and peering myopically at rocks for minutes on end then spending more minutes with a camera and macro trying to capture all of the intricate and microscopic details. They may begin to wonder at the sanity of the human race. So did I when my fingers became numb with the cold, but I just could not stop. The water dripped off my nose, my husband rolled his eyes some more....

Back home......, sanity has reasserted itself briefly. I have been trawling through my images and deciding how I want to use and re-interpret them. I have already started on a series of drawings. None of them are finished yet (see below). I have started some lino cuts and collagraph plates and have ideas for a series of paintings too.

Lets just hope that Mum does not break the other leg any time soon.