Is there a cure?

Some two years ago I contracted a sad case of “lichenitis.” It happened when I was out bushwalking and looked closely at what I had previously just thought of as coloured “blobs on rocks.” After that I was possessed. Every blob had to be examined, photos taken with the macro lens and the many different shapes and patterns marvelled at.

Lichenitis took a hold of my thoughts and I began to create art based on the many shapes and patterns I saw.

I think that the process of making the art must be part of the cure because now that I am ready to share my images in an exhibition I suddenly find that I can think of other things again.

It won’t last of course. I already have ideas for the theme of my next body of work and no doubt once macro photos are taken and the obsession takes hold I will be a sad case yet again. The disease may have a different name but the symptoms will be the same.

Meanwhile, I can savour this brief lull while I enjoy sharing the results of my Lichenitis with others. Come to my exhibition at the Firestation Print Studio Gallery at @ Willis St in Armadale (see invitation below). It runs from October 23^rd to November 9^th. I am having a casual opening on Saturday October 26^th from 2 – 4 pm. Everyone is welcome.  

Still mad about fungus

As the title for the solo exhibition I am to have at the Firestation Print Studio in Armadale in November is “Fungus meets Ferrite” it is unsurprising that my art has been preoccupied with blobs of colour on rocks lately. I have done drawings inspired by the blobs, prints from blobs and now I am doing paintings using the blobs.

I am sure that, should they find themselves in the bush surrounded by rocks covered in coloured blobs, most people would hardly notice, or if they did would just comment, “Oh, there is a lot of lichen on the rocks around here.” I, on the other hand, examine the blobs closely and extensively, taking photos from many angles and getting really excited when I find a new “species” of blob.

As one walks past they do indeed look just like blobs but from close up there is an amazing diversity of forms and patterns, all of which I am bringing into my art.

The paintings are either oil on canvas or impasto gel applied to the primed canvas to create texture over

 whole or part of the canvas which is then painted in oils.

Almost completed, oil on canvas, 70 x 70 cms

                              The beginnings of part of an impasto gel and oil on canvas work

Dreaming in squares

My latest experimentation with ways to “recycle” prints that I am not satisfied with is to juggle lots of little squares of paper about. It started with a collage of irregularly shaped pieces of print that I put together in my visual diary. Then I tried the idea at a larger scale, as a piece of art, but wasn’t really happy with the result.

I’ve always been attracted to the concept of patchworks, fragments of lives and histories joined together in a regular pattern. I’m also drawn by the idea of pixels, each square with its own particular information. So, I decided to combine the two thoughts, though with real pieces of my art history forming the “pixels” of my patchwork, rather than digital information.

As a result I have been playing around with many small pieces of paper. Cutting the squares is slow and tedious (guillotine strips, then place a few one on top of the other to cut small). I have done both 2cm squares and 1cm squares, which makes for a lot of squares. The 1 cm squares were particularly excruciating, but when I get an idea it takes me a lot to give up, even when I realise half way through that what I am doing it is pretty insane. Keeping the squares in order led me to fill lots of little, labelled zip-lock bags with the different colours and patterns.

In both cases I have firstly planned the work in my visual diary then attached the squares with blu-tack and lastly glued them down when I am satisfied with the composition. While working on the 1cm squares recently I suddenly looked at my grid of blu-tack blobs and thought that they looked interesting…… I can feel another “idea” coming on.

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.