The Tuckson’s River Queen

Mudman of New Guinea

A houseboat, somewhat between Bogeys’ River Queen and a box-like punt was the home of Margaret and Tony Tuckson in the 60′s on an art gathering adventure up the Sepik River in New Guinea.

(Mudman of New Guinea Wikipedia)

Natalie Wilson began with a black and white photo taken circa 1965 of artist Tony Tuckson sketching natives in New Guinea. It gave me chills.  The one quality that I envy in artists is bravery. Not only huge bold sweeping gestural marks but bravery of spirit too. I was recently asked who was my mentor or hero. The one person who keeps creeping into my blog tags is Elisabeth Cummings. I’ve spoken before of her bravery in mark making but it is also that adventurous spirit I saw in the Tucksons on their journey into one of the least developed areas of the pacific.

Flicking through the works that have inspired me, it seemed obvious in his paintings that the influence of art on that trip had impacted on his own work.

No62 Four Uprights Red and Black 1965? from Collection Frank Watters (Catalogue Liverpool Street Gallery TUCKSON|TOMESCU 2009

Margaret Tuckson who was present, Bogey’s River Queen felt she had to say that Tony Tuckson had bought what he could for the gallery with the funds he was given despite the Rockafellers bidding at the same time.  Tony Tuckson not only purchased wonderful important pieces, he left us with his adventurous spirit in his artwork.

Tony Tuckson 1921-1973 From Reversals Philip Guston Tony Tuckson Catalogue Museum of Modern Art Heide 1994

Re-surfacing to Postcode 2528

The cormorant has become my own personal symbol within works. It’s wings hang dripping wet, askew and it’s face pointing upwards warming from the sun.

Wollongong City Gallery has it’s Postcodes from the Edge Exhibition and I have three works hung. Postcodes seemed an appropriate time and title to submit gouache works of the lake series.

I realised the works hanging there suspended were a little like the cormorants wings, in need of space.  Today I shared my paintings with my new work friends and felt even more so like the cormorant, this time wanting to dive into the depths of the lake, escape the light and hide in the murky depths where I was away from scrutiny.

I appreciate the times I re-surface and take in the warmth of the sun. Today was one of those days.

The Long List of Lost Artists

Tapies 1976 : Artists Portraits by Alex Kayser

Sunday morning, checking out blogs and then I stumble across the news in Robertsworld;  Anton Tapies has died. No Whitney Houston hullabaloo, just a smattering in the Herald, not in the headlines but in the obits.  For me it was a sinking feeling of losing touch. An opportunity to see art produced by a living artist lost.

We all seem to appreciate their works so much more once they’re gone. I had become more interested in the work of Tapies on investigating the early influences of John Olsen. It seemed only natural that I bought this book on a visit to Berkelouws at Berrima. The six degrees of separation thing kicked in, Berkelouws in Berrima, Berrima in the Southern Highlands, John Olsen’s home in the Southern Highlands, John Olsen influenced by Tapies – the only answer….buy a book on Tapies.

Of course there was no logical reason or association behind the purchase I made whilst in a little second-hand bookshop in Armidale, “BooBooks”. It was serendipity once again. Looking for a spot to park in the pouring rain, trying to focus what was on the window -books! – what a wonderful place for a rainy day. For me it was a treasure trove and I left with a small mountain of art books and old records and in amongst that cache one of my most treasured books. Tapies – Affiches,it is written in French and my poor grasp on language allows me to pluck at certain words. I am pretty sure Affiches is Posters but the works and the book is marvellous in any language.

Tapies: Tapies Ediciones

Apparently Tapies was exhibiting new work up until last year. He said “If I can’t change the world, I at least I want to change the way people look at it.” He changed my world each time I saw his work. Thank you Robert for bringing me the news this morning on your blog.

From Tapies Affiches by Rosa Maria Malet & Miquel Tapies

The Red Case and Killalea

I had not made plans to go with the Picknick Painters this week but things changed last-minute and they were going to Killalea. I thought that I may not be able to do this again for a while because of other commitments, so I threw my stuff in a bag, a book on Philip Guston for Kaye, some book binding notes and my sketchbook.  It looked pretty black towards the south so I wasn’t expecting to stay long. Killalea had its own plans for me.

 

It’s beauty never fails to amaze, pushed to the edge by McMansion after McMansion just a small mottled concrete barricade to stop the grey roofs from spilling in on the green hills. To the east, Bass Point, a quarry and the constant rumble of trucks on dirt that disappear behind the hill. To the west vivid yellow-green hills and escarpment hem us in even further. For me it’s the view northwards that tugs at my attention and draws me away from the natural beauty.

The stack sits embedded in a finger of coast, surrounded crucifixion like be a scattering of smaller inconsequential chimneys. Mum always said -”I know I’m home when I see that stack.” Each time I look at it, it conjures childhood memories in some form. Scanning out to sea eastward from the stack, the five islands off Port Kembla float amongst the shipping containers like large bags of jetsam. The last page in my sketchbook contained notes on jellyfish within the lake. Images and sketches sometimes merge and I found myself humming “Five Jellyfish sitting on a rock…” meanwhile I sketched my thoughts. A tanker towing the island and in turn the island towing the jellyfish. It made me think of the dreaming stories associated with the local Wodi Wodi people of the starfish and  the whale.

I couldn’t decide whether they were heading ashore or out to sea but it made me think of the red suitcase, a symbol of my need to run, to escape.

Each time I work it feeds more and more into the lake series which is becoming stronger in my mind through my experience in this landscape. I feel I have opened the suitcase a little more, perhaps feeling more ready to settle.

The Bungendore Bears

If you go to Bungendore today you’re in for a big surprise, for every bear that ever there was is hanging or nailed on a gum tree.  I can’t remember when I first saw these bears, maybe the early 80′s.  I knew instantly the macabre associations and bleached colours were something special. It would develop into some sort of series.  Each trip with other people I would point them out, I would “Google” them and take photos and sketches.  After clearing out the storage shed my bear sketches appeared like the old favourite toy, Woody in Toy Story.  I don’t know when the paintings will evolve or if they will. There is always so much to paint and never enough time.

So after being inspired by David Hockney and his IPhone paintings I have decided to embrace the use of technology and blog about the Bungendore Bears for now.  I decided to share some of the work in photos and sketches, in their own special place, nailed to the net as well as beneath the trees where nobody sees.  So gather there for certain because todays the day the Teddy Bears have their Blog.

Grey Green White Gum West of Ace

Art Quizzes, Thinkers, Feelers or Artists?

So far in the Art Quiz #4 Who painted my BMW?, the Aussies are in the lead with someone taking out 100%!  In my search for other material to start Quiz #5  I stumbled across the mammoth personality art quiz on the BBC website.

Having undergone a number of tests to check your capabilities for differing positions, I thought this one seemed more appropriate to me. Most of us have done the bonding, teamwork exercises and in reality there should always be a different category for artists.  At a job test a while back I was given the scenario of air crash in the snow with 12 things on the list, prioritise….blah blah blah until they said a roll of canvas. I guess the others would have thought of it as shelter. I think more like shoot the others, eat them and paint like Frankenthaler, stains on canvas. It would be better and easier than gaining a residency to the antarctic.  There should be an alternate category for artists. We’re thinkers and feelers but art is always uppermost in our minds.

Bears in my Storage Shed.

Despite the rain I was determined to clear paintings out of the storage shed. The crud at the bottom of the roller door was an indication of what lay inside.  Moving so often combined with a tad of forgetfulness (or youthful loss of brain cells) has it’s advantages, you forget what you paint.  My idea was to take as many paintings as possible in the wagon, take them off the stretchers and be ruthless as possible and roll the rest. I grabbed a pile of small ones first, about a dozen. Our painting teacher said it was a ratio of about 1 in 10 to get a decent painting. Damn! I’d forgotten about that one. In amongst that dozen there was a jewel, a small 10 x 10 canvas, I tried to place where I was at when I painted it.

I packed the rest, as many as I could without delving too far back in the storage unit where there was obviously signs of scurrying. Driving home about half an hour away gave me time to mull it over. Colours are always a way of me connecting to a place. Then it came to me, it was Bungendore – the Bungendore Bears, I loved these works. I especially loved the photos. I remember being mittened-up sketching in the car with Anne-Marie outside the Bungendore Motel – we were pondering the possibility of it being  a hot bed of sexual encounters for nearby Canberran politicians during the day. The price was right, the location far enough away. Painted in bright yellow $60 a night on the blue bin wheeled out on the kerb.

So after all that agonising about what to keep and how to cull, I ended up with more to work with, an idea unfinished, another excuse to travel and paint.

Oh, and more photos for the blog.