I went to New York in search of abstract expressionist art – it was the obvious first port of call . I didn’t expect to fall in love with the city. New York has an air of possibility.
An article recently in Sydney Morning Herald by Brigid Delaney talks about creative refugees making it in New York ditching their worries of HECS (higher education debts) and finding work and inspiration in an art rich city .
I have to admit I thought the city would be out of my league, I’d be a country bumpkin in amongst high-rise and too fast paced. I love to stop and stare and thought I wouldn’t be able to be me.
The opposite is true, the city is built on newcomers and art is everywhere and accessible to all. Central Park was a refuge of green but I still remember the feeling flying into Sydney, the wide open expanses of coastline. I also remember the feeling of flying into Alice Springs over the desert for the first time, like I was home.
I guess it’s where your happiest. If you’re happy making art, home can be anywhere. For a landscape painter, I couldn’t imagine New York as being home for any great length of time and likewise I couldn’t imagine never being able to be close to a city where I could source galleries and museums. I have been fortunate to have a taste of all but I think I must be a fence-sitter.
If only that fence stretched across the Pacific, across the US and Europe and ended up in my backyard.
Paint later, a painter's blog. 