The Logistics of Bigness

23032010 001I have been in a state of continual poor, poor, pitiful me. No studio. No room. No paint.  Over the past few weeks I have been trying to organise my artself- what’s sold, what’s stored, what’s donated, given away, torn up and lost. It feels never-ending. I’m up to entry 72 and it is one huge drawing – 1.5 m x 2.950 m.  I loved doing this drawing – the setting up. I had a studio then, but it still meant getting an old door across a trestle, rolling out the paper to the length of the door surface. I can’t remember when I last saw it – it must be rolled up in the garage somewhere. It was part of the Roadside Series and looking back one I feel I can come back to.  Each time I drive I see something that could be translated by a piece of dusky charcoal and a fence-painting brush full of gouache.

271209 045

Reading sculptor Anne Truitt’s Daybook has resonated with me over the last week. She found herself in the same pitiful spiral of no room. A sculptor must feel this restriction of space so much more, however she decided rather than cry over space deprivation she would use what space she had- the kitchen table- to draw.  I think this is an admiral decision, and good advice to follow – I’ve been doing small kitchen-appropriate drawings and paintings but really they don’t cut the mustard for me.

Here’s a look at a few shots – process and finished works.

Studio Roadside

Advertisements

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.