The Wingman

Lawrence Hargrave sculpture that sits overlooking Wollongong from the escarpment

Bert Flugelman had a beautiful studio amongst lyrebirds in the rainforest. It was sad news today to hear of this wonderful Australian sculptor’s passing yesterday at the age of 90.  He has left us beautiful works that are part of the Australian landscape.

Cones at National Gallery of Australia Sculpture Garden

One of my favourites is the work in the sculpture garden of the National Gallery in Canberra that is so familiar. The Australian bush is highly reflected in these wonderful stainless steel forms and people and birds are engaged by their distorted reflections.

Flugelman with Wingman by Guy Warren UOW Collection

His friend Guy Warren had won the Archibald  Prize in 1985 with a portrait “Flugelman with Wingman” and the work hangs in the library foyer at the University of Wollongong, commanding and inspiring.

Guy and Bert shared the wonderful commonality of Jamberoo, the little lush town where I had been only a few days ago with my artist friend.  The majority of his work so solidly metal and constructed had its roots in the organic and the love of the bush.

Tetrapus from Bondi Sculpture by the Sea

We All Like Robert Juniper…

I stumbled on the news that Australian artist Robert Juniper had died just before Christmas on the 21st December 2012. Being a Western Australian artist we unfortunately didn’t get to see much of his work over this side of the island.

I was saddened and wanted to share my admiration of his work. I had blogged about him previously in “No, He’s Not the Black Wiggle.”

I copied this work from Australian Painting Today an old and treasured book and it taught me a lot in early painting days about colour. My teacher had commented, “Robert Juniper, we all love Robert Juniper at some stage…”

J.R. Walker, The Elusive Platypus

“Paint does the thinking. If you’re lucky something completely unexpected comes out. The making is the thinking….” *

Monotremes are rare – both of them found in Australia. The platypus frequents still parts in rivers. There is a little spot in Braidwood where we go and the platypus makes an appearance.  The old log where we sat and sketched had rotted since we were last there but as we approached the platypus took a dive and we caught a fleeting glimpse. It was midday, windy and noisy everything it shouldn’t be to spot platypus (or is platypussi?).

J.R Walker is a legendary Braidwood resident artist. As we came out of the bottleshop (a known haunt for artists – a bit like still rivers) J.R. was spotted on his bicycle and before we could gather our thoughts he was off. Peddling feverishly he ducked and dove out of sight. His saddle bags we could only guess were full of oily tubes of paint and inspiration and maybe merlot -it was on special.

This was a self-indulgent blog to show J.R. Walkers paintings. Something I have done before, here in Shaking Off The Sand & here  in Artist or Serial Killer. He, like the platypus is elusive and wonderful. A strange creature of talent and mystery and spotted from time to time in Braidwood.

*quote in article by Steve Lopes for Artist Profile 2009.

Dumbo Feather and Rick Amor, Pass it On

 I have always admired Rick Amor (my post Failure Was Never An Option). A couple of weeks ago I took this photo of his dog in the National Gallery of Australia Sculpture Garden.

I was bemused at the procession of fluro bunting surrounding the sculptures. I thought maybe it had something to do with risk management or maybe it was just for grass regeneration. Either way I loved the surrounding bunting keeping the viewer at bay from the dog. Maybe it was to keep the dog in.

Yesterday I came across this wonderful sharing of images on behalf of Dumbo Feather (a fabulous magazine). I’m looking forward to the article even though the images by Lauren Bamford have already said so much. Click here to see the whole slide-show.

The Ping-Pong Table

I’m still rolling up paintings, tearing paper and burning stuff.  As I go I am photographing the stuff I have had to say goodbye to once and for all.

This one was hard. Not a great work by any means but one of those that I remember every mark, every mix. It was based on my old studio.  I had a large ping-pong table in the centre of the space – it was great to store bits and pieces, cut paper, mount works, paint flat.

The table was a conglomeration of collectables. Pieces of paper, bones, paint but it was where I was happy for a long time. I had hung on to this work for that reason. It was a series of 6 large boards -each 1 m x .700 so difficult to dispose of too.

One board had 3 ping-pong bats glued to it and on top of the bats, cassette tape boxes and inside the boxes, pieces of paint palette and on the paint palette, fish bones.

It was produced at a time where I was in transition, I wanted to paint but loved the exploration of materials and this work was about that.  Perhaps I was sensing the time to leave that ping-pong table behind.

I often dried fish bones after eating fish and my clothesline would have smelly fish carcasses hanging precariously from time to time. I liked to do this when I had caught the fish myself. I sometimes lost my “washing” to kookaburras.

There is something very primal about fish bones. Their role in this work also related back to my youth at the boatshed. The actual fish bones glued within the work had long since gone – to delicate sustain countless moves.

I don’t know if I could have discarded the work at all if they had still been adhered to the work.  Either way it has now gone and it definitely looks better in hindsight.

Ripping Off

My continued race for space has meant that I am taking paintings off stretchers and rolling canvases. In the process I have seen inspiration from old works that can work on a larger scale down the track.

I’ve taken some photos of areas within works.

Some of these works will bite the dust. Others will live again in new works-ripped off.

 

 

 

 

Going Going Gone…

I’ve been weighed down by paintings. They have been in no man’s land.

In the darkness in storage, maybe a few night scurrying visitors.But I was determined to rid myself of them so over the last month I have been emptying the shed.

After countless trips, rips and tears I can now see the back wall and it’s empty. Well almost….just the few odd boxes of pointless paperwork and paintings too big for the wagon. I’m still unsure of their fate.

Apart from the endless self-pitying  I have had moments of surprise for lost friends and the occasional shame. What was I thinking? I guess artists all go through it.  The trial and error. But in amongst the canvassed oily years I found diaries. Records where I was learning to paint. I was obsessive then as I am now, I guess that’s why I blog. I kept a record of each day at art school and photos of the work produced apart from my sketchbooks I have since got rid of the majority of that work but it was fascinating to read the enthusiasm for new-found techniques and mediums. Maybe the fodder for a new blog if I can wear the embarrassment.

Then after picking the stretchers clean, posting the photos and blogging my blubbering I had the thought that these images of the storage shed, the oranges and rusts of the bricks and deep grey shadows along with the signage would make a great series of paintings. Mmm, wonder what I would do with them after? I can see a vicious circle appearing.

Larapinta Painter

There is nothing like the red dust of Central Australia that makes the blood pump in painters. My painting pal, Michael has been constantly pumping paint since his return.

I know the feeling, you just can’t shake it and everyone that I know who has been there is in the same boat, you have to get back there.

On a trip with World Expeditions to the Larapinta a gaggle of artists took in Mt Sonder, the dust and dingoes. Michaels small studies are fresh and capture the essence but on coming home they proved to also be a source of research material and combined with remembered landscapes was impetus for larger works.

This week some of that red dust falls on Hazelhurst Gallery in Sutherland and another of us that have ventured inland away from the edge will attempt to convey to the unconverted the love of landscape.

Cheers Michael and good luck!

More Images from the Epic Letterpress Day

In between learning, inking, printing and talking, I was snapping.  I guess it was all the wood, metal, ink and old stuff combined with text.  These are some of the shots.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Crossing the Teas and Printing the Eyes

I’ve called it Serendipity. It was that hippy mentality that -everything means something man- that has clouded my thoughts.

A day at the Penrith Printing Museum and one more day to stand back has indicated that it’s simply me making choices.

I had some sort of quotes swimming in my head, no clear ones. Maybe “Duh.Winning”?  I had to make it short.  When I got there and saw the beauty in the actual type I realised I was going about it the wrong way. It wasn’t about the quote, I wanted to use the letters as objects in a work.  The wonderful Steve and Scott had mentioned there was some picture blocks and waved in a general direction but said don’t get caught up due to time restrictions.

So..it began after a run down on chase, locks, spacers and furniture  I said I wanted to check out the picture type and the work would follow.  That was what happened. It was a steam punk jewellery store where each rusted tray held small gems of reversed images.  An eye between compasses blinked back at me and of course the inner-hippy went “it’s a sign!” and I mumbled something to Scott about Flinstones and Masons. What a patient person he is.

I had decided that the Masonic Symbols that had reared their blinking heads lately would be a basis. I looked for the connection in type. The beautiful old wooden type with carved curves passed over for Xes and Vees, letters that would echo shapes.  Scott indulged my whims even further as I yelled across the shed “You wouldn’t have seen an eye hanging around?” Of course I was in a type museum and the letter “I” was part of the population but he knew what I meant, an actual eye and he knew where “I” was going.

The end product design wise wasn’t wonderful, I would’ve maybe looked at making the composition tighter but I loved the process. Like printmaking it’s a combination of procedure and surprise. The Vandercook machine that we printed on was wonderful.

I loved the hunt for the objects, the feel of the wooden blocks, the spacers, the rollers and machinery.  The backdrop with looming metal machines, stained wooden blocks, crisp white paper, cool smoothed litho stones and tacky luscious ink were all the attributes of excellent Feng Shui. Maybe the hippy-me was finding my chi in printing.

Just an additional note. This wonderful Museum is run on dedicated volunteers at the back of a Paceway, trotters in the background and Penrith Football Stadium just a litho stones throw away. If only some of that money from the footballers were channeled into keeping this special shed alive, it would be a perfect world. If you know someone that would sponsor or throw money at them please let them know.