Friday, 10 July 2015

Triangulation. Pathways. Discovery.

A new leaf. 
A new type pad. 
New wings to fly. 
Seamless discoveries on the road. 
Relearning what we don't know.
Senseless wonder at it all. 

And a morning shaft of light upon painted surfaces 
appears every sunny morning in the studio. 
Soon to have more exhibitions. 
Soon to launch a rocket from the creative soul. 
This new machine be the pad. 
I'm so happy. 



Wednesday, 25 February 2015

There are no memorials here...

Watching a recent series about pirates, there was a moving scene between the captain and his first mate...
The first mate, beleaguered by the captain's dreams of riches, wealth and piratical utopia, launches a beautiful retort to the measure of stating that pirates, by nature, are claimed by the sea are at the mercy of the waters and uncertainty its bounty...that over time all is erased and there dreams/schemes will all be buried at the bottom of the ocean to be wiped away..."there are no memorials here" he states...

Somehow this seemingly throw away line has struck a chord...in the quest of painting and of life....what is it that we try to capture?? What do we hope that we are leaving behind?? What, if anything, are we speaking of when we mark, paint and explore the world in this way....'

Often I seem to wobble between being completely inspired and almost reaching the point of chucking it all in...never knowing why or what it is that I am actually doing...why all these fucking landscapes/mountains/clouds/skies...why do they plague me?? why won't they leave me alone???

In some ways, over the years, I have felt the need or urgency to paint things I do not understand...like ideas and stories come unbidden and all I must do is listen and make a little space for them to unravel...without knowing it, this dialogue in a stupid tv series has hit the nail on the head...these paintings serve as some testament to the past, to the un-witnessed passings...to the untold stories of the fallen...as an epitaph of all that lies underground and underwater...fathomless numbers who have created the paths for us to travel in the glimpse of this moment...

Perhaps paintings are monuments to the truth...perhaps they are the memorials to that which we do not understand and what calls us to the creative endeavor...perhaps there is no easy way of giving meaning or purpose...perhaps, as the pirate suggests, we are all passing moments to be claimed and forgotten...
If so, then, i give it up to the greater and decide to scribe my little old bones while they sing and listen intently to those that have sung before...and I will be a land pirate in search of the treasure that lies in the folds of these mountains...


New Work...2015.

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Friday, 10 October 2014

oscar murillo

found. paintings. oscar murillo.
patchwork. dirt. canvas. oil.
alchemy. colombian. like.


Wednesday, 20 August 2014

patch working...





Little studies of land.
With a few pink bits thrown in for good measure.
Harlequining around these mountains...
.+.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Tales of the Winds...







Recent forays into the world of paint have yielded these surprising results...
Pics are details of some of the big ones...
I have to say the return to large format size paintings was like coming home...
Has been a rough few years trying to get the space and time
to delve into the depths of the large, primed, empty canvas...
and smashing brushes...
smashing brushes...
it is a romance to be sure...
a kind of love hate relationship really....
it wants to engulf you entirely
what can you do???

>  >  >  >  >  >  >  >
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Friday, 13 June 2014

Heart in the Mists...Bentley Blockade 2014

Heart in the mist...

Reflections on Bentley…  

23rd May 2014


The quiet darkness is filled with a stirring of action…mists roll around a dew drenched paddock, cars move amidst the rising shadows…feet walk through chilled air, breathing in anticipation of the dawn…the smells of fire waft across the sea of tents…small little homes of the masses of people camped out to ‘protect’ the surrounding lands from the potential threats of unconventional gas mining.

It’s been a solid few weeks on the ground….momentum building, tents growing, infrastructure being constantly put up, pulled down, relocated, strengthened…dishes washed, kitchen meals, computers, elders, radios, dogs, children, café, cows and cars.  How to compost the lives of so many linking together with strong arms in the fight?

Moving in the darkness, the feet hit the worn path of Bungabee road; through the gates, past the traffic control with fluoro high viz jackets…breathing the swirling mists one turns to see a bright solar powered love heart light rising in the darkness above the café…cows chew grass and the trees surrounding the paddock stand like sentinels, witnessing the birth of something unspoken…

Heading onto the woodchip path that someone or many hands have laid, walking along the busy highway of early commuters…the light starts to the lift the mists into a veil of beauty…deep beauty of the mountains that surround the valley…ridges of woodland watch like shadows of time…this path has been trodden by so many – so many faces that pass on the path. The eyes meet the many confluences of stories coming together on this path in the dawn to stand strong. Passing Gate B, nestled into the driveway simmos and vigil watchers warm hands by small fires and greet the passers by. Walking through the rock walls to Gate A, one sees the sky lift its veil, mists in the west, painted signs line the rock walls and iron love hearts.

The flags lead on to Gate B…confronted with silhouettes of monopoles, ropes, tarps, star pickets, people and scrambling sprawling life in camp, the heartbeat draws you in…it is dawn rising in the guardianship of the arms of the protectors. Gathered together around the stones of the sacred fire…its heat pulsing out towards the skies; the spirits holding the power of the ancestors within…you are drawn into the circle, warmly embraced into the fold. Soft prayers being spoken, stories told and shared…everybody’s eyes fixed on the flames, directed towards the thoughts of the ever-present fight…announcements are made, people drift off and on, songs are sung…smoke billows to touch the faces of all present for the dawn vigil…

Looking eastward, the colours dancing in the sky above the range give a glow to the congregation…passing through the barbed wire fences – covered with pipes, passing the tripod, flags and lock on fortifications, one bursts into the field of the wider landscape. It is beautiful. The dawn touches your cheeks and you know this is the power of the earth manifest in her raiment, her wonder and power…the thought of knowing that where your feet are now standing, could, in a parallel universe, be an industrial warzone of chemicals, concrete, pipes and poison. Hearing the crickets at play in the golden stalks of grass, seeing more clearly now how the land lays herself over the gentle rises and folds…The strengthening light takes you onto the hill…

The silence and majesty here is palpable. The sacred fire, held by the hands of many sends its plumes above…here, everything else is noisy and distracted. For here, where the mists roll over the plains, where it is clear, you see clearly the wider story…in this place you see the sacred…this mighty fig tree with its twined roots standing firmly on this rise; this is life…the tree of life…this is the power that draws us all together. This is why thousands upon thousands of people have stood up, donated their hearts, time, energy, money, skills and more beyond measure…it all makes sense as you sit in the dawn light…and witness…

As the fire slowly burns on, as the sun gently rises…so too we rise…together in the heart…all of those standing in this place, we are rising…it is the birth of a powerful force…beyond what we know. And it is bigger than what we thought and more powerful than anything before…the truth of life, the corrupt forces that we plainly see for their lies, illusion and deceit are crumbling… and we stand silent, together, firm and strong like the solid ancient fig tree watching over it all…it is an amazing force rising…the eyes gaze upon the sun as it blasts through the mists. Here we are. It is on.

Reflecting on the campaign at Bentley and having been involved in my humble, small way, I am profoundly determined to carry this experience into all possible places of life. As a mother, as a lover, a citizen and artist. Being involved with such a dedicated, passionate group of people makes me, you, us, all stronger. Beyond the personal, being witness to the group of seasoned elders & veteran campaigners who held the fort strong with clear vision and empowerment from the beginning has been life a life changing honour. The clarity, intelligence and problem solving skills of the whole team devoted to holding the campaign and camp Bentley together are to be applauded…it has blown my mind!!

The strategy of bringing together multiple small groups, the political focus, social strength and networking capacity of this has been totally epic. The fight has been peaceful. The fight has been taken to the throats of the corrupt and made them quake in the face of their own pathetic choices; standing in truth for the reality of what it means to have a real future. Beautiful, simple grandmothers who have farmed the land for decades humbly standing up. This has been a magnet for all walks of life; it has galvanised a community into a strengthened, sharply honed arsenal of peaceful, powerful and honest ‘protectors’.

Having responded to the call many weeks ago to ‘represent’ and be out at Bentley ‘on country’ has been a powerful, life-changing journey. From a humble tent, to fully developed camp, Bentley captured my heart and felt for the first time in months like a home. Juggling between life, children and all of the responsibilities, returning to that paddock was the most meaningful and important place to be. Watching this place pull people into its matrix and rip them apart to be put back together again has been both painful and joyous to watch. The multiple challenges of living life and working to hold the many layers together has been fragile to say the least.

Waking on Thursday 20th May was like a dream. To hear the cows bleating and munching all as normal, feeling the dawn rise above the mists…and then the muffled shouts, the heart beating faster, cries of joy, bursting out of the tent looking for anyone…’we’ve won…we’ve won….the minister has made an announcement’… running around the first woman I saw grabbed me and cried into my arms…we cried and felt relief beyond relief…tears, tears…

What we had anticipated was a nightmare. Just hours before I had been in a heated conversation about battle tactics…to burn tyres, to not burn tyres, how to deal with police horses, pepper spray…how do we stay peaceful if the police are being violent?? All these questions, the building confrontation and reality of potentially facing up to 800+ riot and military police just seemed too inviolate to comprehend; we all felt the pending doom. Yet, despite the potential force, so many were resolute; we will face what is to come with full heart, full truth and will not balk at the force of the mighty. So many willing to face violence, arrest and the full brunt of police might. Like highly strung, tightly wound balls of string…all this collectively ‘sighed’ in epic release on this morning…

Arriving to the main camp to hugs, cries and joy was immense. It gave permission to finally feel it all, to see the power of people, to see the fruits of what so many had tirelessly and collectively sown. There was almost disbelief. There were media everywhere, interviews, cameras, radios, microphones. A euphoria of disbelief, relief and success wafted over camp like a golden mist in that early morning light. The rock of Bentley penetrated the pond and rippled out in waves of epic proportion…socially, politically, environmentally, culturally, personally…and from there it hasn’t stopped…the house of cards continues to crumble on a political level…corruption of senior politicians exposed…the snakes are emerging from the grass and being seen for who they truly are (in fact snakes would be far more welcome in the Bentley camp I am sure!!).

What I have witnessed I cannot really do justice to in either words or pictures…the beauty is extraordinary and also the pain…the pain of what it took to get there; the pain of losing what is no longer needed and the joy of discovering what strength there is within. This battle has been won both within and without…being a part of this whole movement has shown that.
It has hit my core and asked me to feel deeper and go deeper. To connect, to stand strong and listen more, ever more. What has been lost and what has been gained is immeasurable…


I see the many eyes that I have crossed paths with and the authentic, real place of being together, hand in hand with so many amazing souls. Knowing that that is the true victory; to see love joining hands, in a paddock, on a hill. To be brave enough to stand in the midst of our own pain, truth and suffering and have the courage to go there, feel it and let it burn in the ashes…all the stories and healing that has been unseen in this land will burn forever in my heart…it is the dawn of a new day…it is only the beginning…




Wednesday, 26 March 2014

homeland soujourns - Adelaide Hills


'Landscape is a portion of the earth's surface
that can never be comprehended in a glance...
A rich and beautiful book
that is always open before us...
We have but to learn to read it...'













roses...
light heat...
old landscapes.
trains, tourists, trivia
bridges, claims
and pelicans...

blood stained
broken memories
embedded in old prison cells...
heritage...
garden...traces
reminiscence
moulded like stones in a wall...

searching for the present
nowscape...

drawing on country
catching the filtered
sublime
with what it is to refine
cloud soujourns...
light escapes...
old structures...
desert, ocean, lake
interface...

homeland.


'Any landscape is a condition of the spirit..'

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

red, white, blue.




weird play things...
probably not worth putting out there
but beneath the clouds
something is brewing...
stay tuned.

Friday, 1 November 2013

mountains




snippets from the studio of late...
finally the walls of these mountains seep in
the colour movement and rhythm
of these valleys instills itself...
i cannot help but reply with these humble offerings...
hot pink crept itself in...the tension between mountain, river, ocean...
at play with the roving cloudscapes...
winds from everywhere...
the compass spins...

Thursday, 1 August 2013

random poetica....





an assortment of random places
moments and ephemera in situ...
with hints of blue...
and the arc of line...
phenomena
luminary
poetic
the mystery finds its way
into you...
the eye scribes...
we listen
it is true....

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

notes to Ian Fairweather...

Ian,

I cannot describe to you the space anymore...
it must be no longer familiar....
with all the houses, cars, shops and lights
it is not what once was....
I found your grove of callitris
a remnant amidst suburbia encroaching




incredible to think this is where you lived for so long
under these boughs
of darkness
and nothing remains of you
just a few scars on the old trees
and some plaques and a big rock to remind us...




but beneath the developed veneer
i sense the sand move and a depth of peace
and I understand how you found peace of spirit here...
the calm ocean
the dragons of the sky
the colours
and trees....yes...it becomes apparent...
the sunset was sublime.

 

 

so thanks Bribie Island...
and thanks Ian for the HB pencil I found at your old home...
I'm glad you found sanctuary here
once upon a time
how things change so quickly...
and how some remain unchanged...
I whisper to you these things...
I heard you in the twilight song
beneath those trees
and underneath the sounds of the very close cars
and televisions...
I listened and walked on the soft sands....
now I know...
and i am grateful...

Sunday, 7 July 2013

dance the body line...










exploring states of tension
through body
music
drawing
from lucid, passive
to medium and high tension...
interesting to dance
and draw this feeling
and feel the bodyline
then draw the flow...