Cows Make the Best Art Critics

It began with cows at Bundanon.  The track from the river back to the studio through the paddocks.  I would spend hours not talking with anyone, the cows would look intent, like they had something to say so I asked.  The wombats weren’t good art critics. They would amble hurriedly away or disappear down the hole looking disappointed at my efforts.  Their ability to put poo on a rock summed it up – they were sculptors and looked at my work as being too flat. Maybe they’re right.

Possums have given me mixed messages -they are like the art teachers who can’t help but put a mark on your work, not that I am opposed to that  -there has been evidence of nibbling, delicate foortprints in charcoal and the curl of a tail disappearing in the rafters when I turn the key.

A scene in Frida a movie on the life of Frida Kahlo showed Diego Rivera’s dog pissing on a canvas “he’s always my best critic”. Dogs are upfront. Cows chew their cud and mull it over.  They throw the onus back to me as the painter -”Fix it, it’s that simple”

Cows Make the Best Art Critics

It began with cows at Bundanon.  The track from the river back to the studio through the paddocks.  I would spend hours not talking with anyone, the cows would look intent, like they had something to say so I asked.  The wombats weren’t good art critics. They would amble hurriedly away or disappear down the hole looking disappointed at my efforts.  Their ability to put poo on a rock summed it up – they were sculptors and looked at my work as being too flat. Maybe they’re right.

Possums have given me mixed messages -they are like the art teachers who can’t help but put a mark on your work, not that I am opposed to that  -there has been evidence of nibbling, delicate foortprints in charcoal and the curl of a tail disappearing in the rafters when I turn the key.

A scene in Frida a movie on the life of Frida Kahlo showed Diego Rivera’s dog pissing on a canvas “he’s always my best critic”. Dogs are upfront. Cows chew their cud and mull it over.  They throw the onus back to me as the painter -”Fix it, it’s that simple”

Possum in the rafter

Trains, planes and wildlife.

I love setting up a studio. The preparation of choosing what to hang on the walls.  It can make or break a work. When I first checked out this studio to rent, I thought it would have some problems but it turned out to be great – it was cool -breezes from the sea in summer and that grunginess that only an artist can appreciate.  It’s called The Barracks cause it backs onto the rail station, old quarters used by men who worked on the rail.  The building although pretty dodgy had been converted into individual studios.

I love the sudden noise of freight trains, glimpses of graffitied carriages and the lines of track and overhead wires dissecting the landscape.

What I didn’t expect was tracks (of the animal kind)  across my prepatory sketches I had done on the Island.  There was also a few nibbled edges.  I asked the possum or rat not to eat the sketch I was working on. I think we came to an understanding, it never happened again but I was lucky enough to share the space with no less than 3 possums, not sure about the rats.