INTRANSIT 2022
NOVEMBER
What month is it? It is getting hotter so here comes the bush-fire season in the southern hemisphere. It must soon be time to prepare for the upcoming festive season as well. I should write a huge shopping list as that is what one does in this excitable consumer driven world. What do I really need? Not much really.
1 northern European Conifer tree with a gold plastic star on top,
1 box fortune cookies,
Lots of clean air,
2 pairs of blow up reindeer antler headwear,
1 small home,
A dozen sticky fruity buns,
Big bottle of sunscreen factor 1000,
BBQ tongs,
World peace,
Fancy drinks.
That should do it.
1 northern European Conifer tree with a gold plastic star on top,
1 box fortune cookies,
Lots of clean air,
2 pairs of blow up reindeer antler headwear,
1 small home,
A dozen sticky fruity buns,
Big bottle of sunscreen factor 1000,
BBQ tongs,
World peace,
Fancy drinks.
That should do it.
We stayed for 10 days by the Rockingham beach area south of Perth in a suburb called Shoalwater. It was a sort of a holiday but we worked away as usual but we did have some fun looking after Peggy and Cindy. Two chihuahuas who were very amusing creatures to play with. We also walked around the nearby Peron Point. An impressive landscape with views of the Shag Islands and Penguin Island where tiny penguins were busy nesting. We even ate fish and chips which is a classic British/Australian seaside cuisine that I always seem to forget about. The warm season had arrived so we went for a swim or two, played with some local pelicans and mentally prepared for a long hot dry mediterranean like summer in the southern hemisphere.
Someone recently mentioned that it was “beer o’clock” which brought my attention to a collection of German Bier Steins located upon a bookshelf in the house we now stay in. For some reason these ornate mugs have always intrigued me. The kitsch colourful landscapes with rustic characters drinking, dancing or just being homely in homely Euro-flavoured worlds. Cute and bucolic, dated and bacchanalian. Prost to the good old days!
Someone recently mentioned that it was “beer o’clock” which brought my attention to a collection of German Bier Steins located upon a bookshelf in the house we now stay in. For some reason these ornate mugs have always intrigued me. The kitsch colourful landscapes with rustic characters drinking, dancing or just being homely in homely Euro-flavoured worlds. Cute and bucolic, dated and bacchanalian. Prost to the good old days!
Now back to now and here where I currently live for the time being anyway. We are in another suburb of Perth and I try to work on a new series of small mixed media works that attempt to display both the possibility of moving and the stability of a home. Thoughts which usually tangle with one another aggressively and bamboozle me often. Am I confused or maybe I am not, well I should be or I could be but then again I may change my mind and of course this internal conversation between domestication and nomadism had been on my mind for decades. “Should I stay or should I go” are the lyrics of a pop song I heard on a radio recently which does sum it all up. Many folk know exactly what I mean as I am not the only one to be confused or excellently cursed by the seductive dis-ease of IFS. (Itchy Feet Syndrome) Excuse me I just need to pop out now to stroll about a lake.
Where was I ? Oh yes. I recently read a quip originating from communications between German and Austrian military personal during the end of WW2. It goes like this - “The situation is catastrophic but not serious.” I plan to adopt this saying as often I do feel that situations are catastrophic especially if one watches the nightly news or reads a newspaper. Some reported events are so unbelievable horrific and the behaviour of some people is so outrageously ridiculous and pathetic that as I watch the news or social media I almost cannot believe what I see.
I ponder insane antics and get a sinking feeling that many humans are really just far too silly. Possible all 8 billion of them including myself. It really is a miracle what we as a species have done and extremely surprising that we have survived this long while making such a mess of the place we live in. A seriously catastrophic mess. Here is another military term of a similar ilk - SNAFU (Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.) A sad and pessimistic description of where we seem to be. I still do have hope and I do present the optimistic view but sometimes it is not that easy.
On a lighter note and speaking of really silly. Television is awash with “reality” programs. None of them actually real. An array of serialised short shows requiring very little creativity and each one rather difficult to differentiate from another as all seem to follow very similar patterns.
One classic format seems to be - A group of diverse desperados chasing money and fame are placed in a basic competitive environment a bit like play-time in kindergarten with excitable or cheesy teachers/judges/mentors/celebrities overseeing the game who excessively exaggerate who are the “total” losers and who are the “awesome” winners. Voyeuristic, ultra competitive and very unreal. Over and over and over again. Televised sporting events could be seem as similar but unlike sporting programs the contestants on most “reality” shows have limited skills, discipline, focus and humility. They are often just average folk very pleased to be on TV which is ok but I personally feel that watching so call reality shows is not unlike being forced to eat a shit sandwich while crawling over a field of razor wire. In fact that could be the next reality show and sadly it would gain a large and devoted following. Is it now time to embrace pessimism full-time? I do hope not. Perhaps I should make a cardamon and date cake and I best try to concentrate on reading a book as TV is looking far too toxic. I wonder if it is the TV making me feel unwell or the COVID-19 I seem to have picked up?
I ponder insane antics and get a sinking feeling that many humans are really just far too silly. Possible all 8 billion of them including myself. It really is a miracle what we as a species have done and extremely surprising that we have survived this long while making such a mess of the place we live in. A seriously catastrophic mess. Here is another military term of a similar ilk - SNAFU (Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.) A sad and pessimistic description of where we seem to be. I still do have hope and I do present the optimistic view but sometimes it is not that easy.
On a lighter note and speaking of really silly. Television is awash with “reality” programs. None of them actually real. An array of serialised short shows requiring very little creativity and each one rather difficult to differentiate from another as all seem to follow very similar patterns.
One classic format seems to be - A group of diverse desperados chasing money and fame are placed in a basic competitive environment a bit like play-time in kindergarten with excitable or cheesy teachers/judges/mentors/celebrities overseeing the game who excessively exaggerate who are the “total” losers and who are the “awesome” winners. Voyeuristic, ultra competitive and very unreal. Over and over and over again. Televised sporting events could be seem as similar but unlike sporting programs the contestants on most “reality” shows have limited skills, discipline, focus and humility. They are often just average folk very pleased to be on TV which is ok but I personally feel that watching so call reality shows is not unlike being forced to eat a shit sandwich while crawling over a field of razor wire. In fact that could be the next reality show and sadly it would gain a large and devoted following. Is it now time to embrace pessimism full-time? I do hope not. Perhaps I should make a cardamon and date cake and I best try to concentrate on reading a book as TV is looking far too toxic. I wonder if it is the TV making me feel unwell or the COVID-19 I seem to have picked up?
Since July we have moved six times in and around Perth, jumping from one studio to another which is not fabulous in terms of stability but then again perhaps stability is over-rated. I miss the large Broome studio and I may get back there soon but planning becomes ever more complex especially on the meagre wage of an artist and when one has COVID-19 then things become extra slow. We really need to buy a home which is also on the Xmas shopping list so that’s sorted (in my dreams!) So we paddle onwards wondering how to settle and where and sadly we do this at about the same pace as unwell, sea-slugs with foggy brains.
I now sit in front of my laptop and poke little letter and number keys with my fingers trying to construct words then sentences and if lucky a clear paragraph or two will be digitised and emerge expressing what is about me and what notions are currently within me. Hows this?
On this particular day I did a whole bunch of not much but I did walk about in a circle thinking about stuff which I have now forgotten about then a bit later I had a rest I think. I also watched the cloudy sky and did something else not very memorable so if I add that up it was a rather jam packed busy day. Other days are even more crazy I know. You just never know, I know. Thanks Covid for the brain fuzziness.
I now sit in front of my laptop and poke little letter and number keys with my fingers trying to construct words then sentences and if lucky a clear paragraph or two will be digitised and emerge expressing what is about me and what notions are currently within me. Hows this?
On this particular day I did a whole bunch of not much but I did walk about in a circle thinking about stuff which I have now forgotten about then a bit later I had a rest I think. I also watched the cloudy sky and did something else not very memorable so if I add that up it was a rather jam packed busy day. Other days are even more crazy I know. You just never know, I know. Thanks Covid for the brain fuzziness.
SEPTEMBER
ON THE WAY TO LANDSCAPE.
138cm x 450cm approx. Acrylic, cotton, wool, plastic thread, Belgian linen.
138cm x 450cm approx. Acrylic, cotton, wool, plastic thread, Belgian linen.
This large mixed media work is a quirky garden on the way to being an obscure landscape. I take a panoramic cerebral stroll in a verdant park constructed by views of plants observed in many lands. Thoughts of other environments were germinated in an extremely hot and humid tin shed studio underneath tropical storms in the north west of Australia.
I plant a smorgasbord of anthropomorphic (human-like) plants all in a single line wandering across a textured background. A fruit salad plant, boab tree, coconut palm, mangrove tree, an iceberg covered in ice algae, cactus, a single tall blade of grass, an exotic flower and a conifer. Together encompassing many climatic realms from Polar to Tropical. I make an impossible herbarium for my global bouquet.
Mysteriously floating in the centre is a Buddhist symbol. The endless knot that refers to the endless cycle of birth and death or the inter-twining of wisdom and compassion. It is a symbol and therefore has many interpretations. I see it as a neat tangled geometric pattern that contrasts against the the organic forms I have painted and sewn.
It is a strange crafty painting where I have attempted to cultivate many thoughts. A bent botanical place where I buried and exhumed thoughts about death. The title refers to the fact that I am actually on my way to being part of a landscape as are we all.
Death is a very tricky topic. Such a drastic change from being here to not being here is considerable but the fact that nothing is ever really destroyed means that we simply change after that last breath. Our bits and pieces all go back into the rich chemical cocktail-goo of life. Then we are sprinkled across soil and atmosphere. Energy changing and drifting about here, there and elsewhere. It is a pleasing thought as it means one is assimilated into a larger picture. I am fuel for a tiny garden that may grow into a massive landscape one day.
I do hope that when I die I will simply make grass a bit greener or I may contribute to stranger things happening on a microscopic level which will probably trigger some other odd stuff to occur on a quantum/nano level which I am unable to even comprehend.
I plant a smorgasbord of anthropomorphic (human-like) plants all in a single line wandering across a textured background. A fruit salad plant, boab tree, coconut palm, mangrove tree, an iceberg covered in ice algae, cactus, a single tall blade of grass, an exotic flower and a conifer. Together encompassing many climatic realms from Polar to Tropical. I make an impossible herbarium for my global bouquet.
Mysteriously floating in the centre is a Buddhist symbol. The endless knot that refers to the endless cycle of birth and death or the inter-twining of wisdom and compassion. It is a symbol and therefore has many interpretations. I see it as a neat tangled geometric pattern that contrasts against the the organic forms I have painted and sewn.
It is a strange crafty painting where I have attempted to cultivate many thoughts. A bent botanical place where I buried and exhumed thoughts about death. The title refers to the fact that I am actually on my way to being part of a landscape as are we all.
Death is a very tricky topic. Such a drastic change from being here to not being here is considerable but the fact that nothing is ever really destroyed means that we simply change after that last breath. Our bits and pieces all go back into the rich chemical cocktail-goo of life. Then we are sprinkled across soil and atmosphere. Energy changing and drifting about here, there and elsewhere. It is a pleasing thought as it means one is assimilated into a larger picture. I am fuel for a tiny garden that may grow into a massive landscape one day.
I do hope that when I die I will simply make grass a bit greener or I may contribute to stranger things happening on a microscopic level which will probably trigger some other odd stuff to occur on a quantum/nano level which I am unable to even comprehend.
The On the way to landscape work began in a Broome hot wet season many months ago and in the Perth TAFE studio I finally acknowledged that it is complete. Here is a link to a short video that speeds up four months of studio time where this work and others began back in November 2021. (https://vimeo.com/745285336 )
Open studio events were held in Northbridge at the Northern TAFE studio/gallery space in order to show works created here in Perth and Broome as well as a number of older works from Malaysia and the Indian Ocean. Visitors contemplated the large and small mixed media works on show over a number of days. Then it was time to pull everything off the walls and relocated. I thank the Northern TAFE Art School for the space to work in and the chance to directly connect with the Perth art-world on a number of levels.
Open studio events were held in Northbridge at the Northern TAFE studio/gallery space in order to show works created here in Perth and Broome as well as a number of older works from Malaysia and the Indian Ocean. Visitors contemplated the large and small mixed media works on show over a number of days. Then it was time to pull everything off the walls and relocated. I thank the Northern TAFE Art School for the space to work in and the chance to directly connect with the Perth art-world on a number of levels.
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As my large recent work On the way to landscape displays I am fond of plant forms and one local shrub named Kangaroo Paw (Anigozanthos) is a still a favourite that I keep noticing about the city. I am not sure why I like this plant so much, perhaps it is the furry texture, the hardy leaf or the odd shape of the flowers? The array of colours is also impressive. I must plant some as soon as I find a fitting landscape.
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Beside conversing with plants during my long walks about the city I also considering how people can be extremely frisky, noisy and excitable. Mischief happens anywhere and anytime of course but I did notice a little booze fuelled shenanigans while installed in my previous Fremantle studio as well as the Northbridge studio. Both neighbourhoods have long histories of being city entertainment zones so this is not surprising. In fact Carolina and I loved both suburbs! Fremantle for its fishy Port flavour and Northbridge for its inner city tasty Asian flavours.
The last series works on paper created during these two residencies were all a messy homage to people who do festive things a little bit too much. “Enncorrrrree !..#okohyeah!shiiitt…cansomeone call atazi…thanks a bubble..whoooohhhoooo!..just one fortharoad” - A statement I heard a number of times I recall.
The last series works on paper created during these two residencies were all a messy homage to people who do festive things a little bit too much. “Enncorrrrree !..#okohyeah!shiiitt…cansomeone call atazi…thanks a bubble..whoooohhhoooo!..just one fortharoad” - A statement I heard a number of times I recall.
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ONE FOR THE ROAD. (A series of drunk and disorderly drawings.)
I am not shy of a drink or two and can on occasion be located at a much higher altitude than festive. Yes that dizzy zone with the occasional magnificent view. My firewater fuelled brain-dead/berserk behaviour is usually controlled and designed to release stress, interact, tranquilize or to aid some simple fun. To mix up thoughts, actions and to experiment with the fluidity of body, mind and soul via alcoholic fluids is something which many folk do. It can also be a total disaster. A deranged, dirty, decadent, discombobulated, dishevelled, dumb debacle. Not a pretty sight.
I seriously attempt to avoid bad and sad bingeing and to preferably order a friendly buffoon style cocktail if possible. Quality not quantity must be considered but fickle and erratic are also on the drinks menu. (Note to self - do not order a bucket of bad Mezcal and play the tuba naked in public.)
In many studios on a many streets, in many cities I have watched people stumble, scream and search for stability without much luck as they were seriously dumb-fucking drunk. Sadly some were much more than drunk. Recently as I watched and listened to people discomposing themselves I wondered how I looked and sounded when I was intoxicated. I then wondered how anyone can possibly survive without being at least a little bit tipsy? I am sure it is feasible as once I recall going without a drinky-poo for some months. Admittedly I was in a very dry region in East Antarctica and my options were rather limited.
As I type this I begin to feel parched so I send a cheery cheers/salud/prost/campai/skol to drunk drinkers drinking drinks wherever they stumble about whilst they juggle vessels of beverages and fondle desires to have short eventful adventures. Some adventures place us far away from ourselves while others are a bit too close to the bone. I can only wish us all a safe wobbly journey.
I am not shy of a drink or two and can on occasion be located at a much higher altitude than festive. Yes that dizzy zone with the occasional magnificent view. My firewater fuelled brain-dead/berserk behaviour is usually controlled and designed to release stress, interact, tranquilize or to aid some simple fun. To mix up thoughts, actions and to experiment with the fluidity of body, mind and soul via alcoholic fluids is something which many folk do. It can also be a total disaster. A deranged, dirty, decadent, discombobulated, dishevelled, dumb debacle. Not a pretty sight.
I seriously attempt to avoid bad and sad bingeing and to preferably order a friendly buffoon style cocktail if possible. Quality not quantity must be considered but fickle and erratic are also on the drinks menu. (Note to self - do not order a bucket of bad Mezcal and play the tuba naked in public.)
In many studios on a many streets, in many cities I have watched people stumble, scream and search for stability without much luck as they were seriously dumb-fucking drunk. Sadly some were much more than drunk. Recently as I watched and listened to people discomposing themselves I wondered how I looked and sounded when I was intoxicated. I then wondered how anyone can possibly survive without being at least a little bit tipsy? I am sure it is feasible as once I recall going without a drinky-poo for some months. Admittedly I was in a very dry region in East Antarctica and my options were rather limited.
As I type this I begin to feel parched so I send a cheery cheers/salud/prost/campai/skol to drunk drinkers drinking drinks wherever they stumble about whilst they juggle vessels of beverages and fondle desires to have short eventful adventures. Some adventures place us far away from ourselves while others are a bit too close to the bone. I can only wish us all a safe wobbly journey.
Photo- Gavin Campbell
And now we are in the Suburbs of Perth close to a fabulous Korean supermarket and not too far from the Indian Ocean and to the south is Antarctica so all is well. But where to next and why and how and whathafug? All the usual questions continue to float about as we all know so well…
AUGUST
It is the middle of 2022 or thereabouts and our time in Perth is zooming along. The winter here is rather tame but it has forced me to wear socks and shoes the past few weeks. Unusual attire for me the past few years. The fabulous residency at the Moores building was our home for a month and a fabulous home it was. We thank the Fremantle Art centre.
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From 1861 to 1908 this impressive Neo-Gothic building just south of Perth was a convict built lunatic asylum housing a wide range of people as the concept of lunacy in those days was very broad. After 1908 the building had many roles and today it houses artists who make art well as exhibit art in many forms. Some would say that not much has changed since 1908. Before the colonisation/invasion of Australia the Nyoongar people inhabited the area as they still do. In fact the entire gallery was covered with Aboriginal work the entire time I was working there which is part of an impressive survival story. In 2022 the Fremantle Arts Centre operates as a very active cultural place for a broad range of folk. Carolina and I were pleased to be able to work there and spend time in the port of Fremantle. Over July in studio #3 you would have found a large pile of re-jigged, re-written, re-booted, regurgitated film scripts as well as over 100 small works on paper as that was the creative mischief I was up to while there.
I was a busy artist seven days a week in that studio and I also spent many hours strolling about the port of Fremantle mentally sketching and considering sailors, immigrants, travellers, tourists, explorers and traders. Under very broad concepts of trans-nationalism and mare liberum I tried to create some visual buoys that may have helped me grab onto the topic of maritime movements. There is always plenty of floundering and some relief once a work seems to play the correct role but it is a battle to stay afloat using only shading, marks, shape, texture, colour and ideas. These elements must somehow map out my fluid thoughts in what ever studio I find myself.
The MARE LIBERUM series of work is in a way a culmination of the many trips where I have been at sea. Firstly there were weeks and weeks of paddling about at numerous beaches attached to blow up beds, donuts or cartoon animals as a kid. Then as an adult I found myself on icebreakers in Polar regions, on a great many urban ferry trips, one long voyage on a massive cargo container vessel, many fishing trips in small “tinny” vessels, a canoe trip with Maddog plus a few days of fancy yachting in USA also many adventures on zodiac inflatables to ultra remote beaches.
On many of these trips I often thought of my pre history as both my biological father and my adoptive father were sailors. I probably should have become a sailor as the lifestyle would have suited me but that did not happen. I became an artist who sails across a different form of liquid. Namely paint which is sometimes like a rather wobbly sea. Being an artist is also a very unpredictable and complicated career, a little like toiling in the maritime world.
What has been of interest to me during my limited but varied aquatic capers on above mentioned sea-craft is the concept of movement via water but also the fact that some sailors seem to operate in a trans-national manner. Not like large global corporations but as individuals who constantly jump in and out of a number of different nations, locations and cultures on a regular basis. This is a rather interesting lifestyle that fascinates me. I personally have no love at all for any one nation as I find any popular flag waving nationalistic behaviour slightly blinkered and dangerous in this modern world where we all live. I see too many randomly constructed borders, frontiers scribbled across maritime maps, flags poked into tiny islands in the middle of oceans and even flags stabbed into ocean seabeds. Too many fences adorned with razor wire, land-mines and signs that state - “NOPERSONSLAND!.” They all depict the fluid, uncertain and bloody borders of short term politics and fear. They announce clearly. -“This is mine and this is yours.” How will all these moving borders, walls of flags and cartographic trenches help the billions of people who currently live on earth? I really do not know. I do know that our planet is a small vessel in the cosmos and we must all row together as one somehow. Even if we have no idea where we are going. I could also say that the trip so far has been interesting to add a positive spin on the lunatic experiment called humanity.
So I have sketched flimsy boats tacked together from bits and pieces in rough seas littered with barbed-wire. My little vessels float in parts of the world called the International waters or the MARE LIBERUM where international law is diluted and very hard to enforce. It is a zone that will get more and more sloppy I fear as the worlds population grows.
The MARE LIBERUM series of work is in a way a culmination of the many trips where I have been at sea. Firstly there were weeks and weeks of paddling about at numerous beaches attached to blow up beds, donuts or cartoon animals as a kid. Then as an adult I found myself on icebreakers in Polar regions, on a great many urban ferry trips, one long voyage on a massive cargo container vessel, many fishing trips in small “tinny” vessels, a canoe trip with Maddog plus a few days of fancy yachting in USA also many adventures on zodiac inflatables to ultra remote beaches.
On many of these trips I often thought of my pre history as both my biological father and my adoptive father were sailors. I probably should have become a sailor as the lifestyle would have suited me but that did not happen. I became an artist who sails across a different form of liquid. Namely paint which is sometimes like a rather wobbly sea. Being an artist is also a very unpredictable and complicated career, a little like toiling in the maritime world.
What has been of interest to me during my limited but varied aquatic capers on above mentioned sea-craft is the concept of movement via water but also the fact that some sailors seem to operate in a trans-national manner. Not like large global corporations but as individuals who constantly jump in and out of a number of different nations, locations and cultures on a regular basis. This is a rather interesting lifestyle that fascinates me. I personally have no love at all for any one nation as I find any popular flag waving nationalistic behaviour slightly blinkered and dangerous in this modern world where we all live. I see too many randomly constructed borders, frontiers scribbled across maritime maps, flags poked into tiny islands in the middle of oceans and even flags stabbed into ocean seabeds. Too many fences adorned with razor wire, land-mines and signs that state - “NOPERSONSLAND!.” They all depict the fluid, uncertain and bloody borders of short term politics and fear. They announce clearly. -“This is mine and this is yours.” How will all these moving borders, walls of flags and cartographic trenches help the billions of people who currently live on earth? I really do not know. I do know that our planet is a small vessel in the cosmos and we must all row together as one somehow. Even if we have no idea where we are going. I could also say that the trip so far has been interesting to add a positive spin on the lunatic experiment called humanity.
So I have sketched flimsy boats tacked together from bits and pieces in rough seas littered with barbed-wire. My little vessels float in parts of the world called the International waters or the MARE LIBERUM where international law is diluted and very hard to enforce. It is a zone that will get more and more sloppy I fear as the worlds population grows.
I also jig about with a series of cartoon like characters that seem inebriated or at least a little excitable. Perhaps the figures are vegetal sailors having too much fun? Anthropomorphic shrubs in party mode. These comical drawings feed off the film-script text I currently write and will hopefully marshal my jumbled textual thoughts into completed textured drawings over the next month.
My time at the fabulous Fremantle Art Centre ended so I moved across the Swan river into a small shop in Northbridge that was once a Vietnamese restaurant as the old faded sign above the door informs me. This building is now used by the North Metro TAFE art school to present small exhibitions, as a student film set, extra studio space and to house visiting artists like myself. I currently hold this role as the artist in residence at TAFE. It is here that I shall be working on mixed media projects, present an artist talk, continue the above mentioned drawings, hold an exhibition here in the shop front studio, edit my film script and I do intend to bother a few of the students in a positive inspirational manner to the best of my capabilities.
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The Griffith Review is an Australian literary journal that covers an array of topics each publication. Edition 77 is titled - REAL COOL WORLD and peers into Antarctica. As my activity down on the Ice was considerable some years ago I happen to have a number of my Icy artworks in the picture gallery. To be in the review is very pleasing and I recommend anyone with an interest in the Southern continent to grab a copy.
And then we went to a dumpling restaurant nearby the studio in Northbridge to indulge in some delicious steamed, boiled and pan fried treats. After ordering via a small digital tablet I was then surprisingly served by Kettybot the robot waiter who sadly did not understand any of my jokes. Ahhh. the modern world....
And then we went to a dumpling restaurant nearby the studio in Northbridge to indulge in some delicious steamed, boiled and pan fried treats. After ordering via a small digital tablet I was then surprisingly served by Kettybot the robot waiter who sadly did not understand any of my jokes. Ahhh. the modern world....
JUNE
There was a large pile of social situations and art activities in Melbourne so both my brain and my body are a little weary. We looked at art, we sold some art, we talked about art and as we did all that an election was held which seemed to display by the results that the population of Australia desires to be fairer, cleaner and smarter on all levels of society. Let us hope that we head that direction without too much messing about.
I do send a wobbly wave to all the people we did see in Melbourne and a big sorry to those we missed. It is a fun city and it was fun to be there. There was a bit too much running about as we tried to see as many folks as possible but time was sadly against us.
I do send a wobbly wave to all the people we did see in Melbourne and a big sorry to those we missed. It is a fun city and it was fun to be there. There was a bit too much running about as we tried to see as many folks as possible but time was sadly against us.
It seems we are back in Broome now so things slow down a little but there is always more art activity. Currently the Broome Fringe Festival is on and I shall be opening my studio enabling brave characters to wander in and see the ordered chaos of my work place. As the dry season is here the studio is actually comfortable and does not duplicate the ambience of an operational pizza oven. Things have luckily cooled down and the humidity has dropped thankfully. Things did heat up on Saturday evening as there was some expected shenanigans in the shed/studio due to excitable friends catching up on gossip.
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Carolina and I soon head to this gothic looking building in Perth. The Fremantle Arts Centre is in “Freo” as the city of Fremantle is affectionately known. (www.fac.org.au) We both have studios on the second level of this marvellous old stone building where we intend to make a bit of art. We may even make a lot of art during the month or so we are in residence. I personally plan to swagger about the port of Freo and look out towards the sea. Far out across the Indian Ocean as I have thoughts that paddle around topics such as - water, ships, transport and transnationals. Simultaneously I will try to net some clear thoughts about home. Home has been a slippery fish of a concept for myself. Anyone who knows me will agree and you will see ample proof of this in my essay below. Whatever the theme/s attracting my attention in the southern part of Western Australia I do know that I shall continue to keep rowing my boat in search of what I am searching for…I just have to work out what that could be.
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A short essay on home and where it can be found.
HOMING IN ON HOME
Can any place you lie down and get cosy horizontally be called home? Can home be your body? Is home positioned in your crafty brain or located somewhere inside your emotive heart? Is home connected to another body or partner? Does home represent the origin of you or is it just a bit of land you intimately bond with over a period of time? It seems that attachment to a particular environment grows due to stimulus, stories, people and time spent in a single place. This is what constructs the home/s in your mind. Home = time + safety + familiarity. This equation is based on the geographer - Yi Fu Tuans concept of how we all turn a foreign space into a known place or in this case a home.
The origin of the word home seems to come from the idea referring to a place where one lies down to sleep or rest. How long must you stay put or lie down in one place for it to be called a home? This is a very individual decision. It could take just a few minutes for one to “feel right at home” or many years to regard a particular place as comfortable rather than a temporary strange, limbo-zone. Time is as fluffy as home and home does seem a little fuzzy if we have a close look at its foundations.
There was once upon a time that wet, warm, prenatal abode where you were busy getting ready to pop out into existence as you floated and constructing yourself with massive help from your mother of course. Was this a pre-home? The uterus is admittedly a tight and cosy dwelling to be located in and it certainly worked as a biological home structure in the early days of your life. Once outside in the air filled world you had lots to do besides grow larger. You also had to differentiate between you and not you. Were you at home immediately upon birth as you adapted to the world? Did you arrive at a place called home? Was there signage such as - Home sweet Home on the wall to guide you?? Probably not. Upon arrival it took a while to comprehend the differences between you and others as well as the meaning of here and there but you learnt fairly fast. Home looked very hazy on your birthday but you got used to it.
Inside the body your mind resides. The body is a physical location where your mind hangs out for the duration of your short and sweet existence or is the body a vacation destination for your rainbow coloured eternal nomadic soul? That is a tricky question and drags us off into metaphysics, religion, the cosmos and god knows where else… Far from home in fact. Back on Earth, a bit closer to home we can see home as simply a physical place where you can rest. Which means your body is a home for your delicate and often weary self but home is commonly understood to be a bit larger in size than a uterus or your physical volume.
So what are the dimensions of home? If home is seen as an external physical structure then perhaps the clothes you wear are an intimate form of soft home? You can certainly lie in your clothes and rest. As a child I had special attire called pyjamas that were designed to be worn at night-time for sleeping while tucked into bed. I recall my pyjamas were made from smooth blue flannel fabric, very snug and homely. They were covered with small printed boats designed to carry me to dreamland or did I dream that?
Before pyjamas arrived we were all nude so I wonder if our naked bodies actually qualify as a basic home? Perhaps but a bit too exposed to the elements I fear. So we dress ourselves and fashion starts to expand the dwelling. The first layer should be extra smooth and fluffy. Blue pyjamas with a cute little boat pattern are recommended as a personal soft home. The next level of home is the bed (ideally cosy, comfortable and with a pillow) then the room (possibly functional and clean) then the house, (hopefully secure, spacious and familiar) then the village (with luck pleasantly busy, known and friendly) then the nation (abstractly constructed, communal and with a pretty flag) then the world (spacious, blue and green, a haven of air, water and life) and then onto the universe where we all reside. Now this train of thought gets astronomically complicated about here so I best have a little rest. Home seems many layered and each layer hopefully gives different forms of experience, stability, comfort and happiness.
If the body is our first home then are we not all homebodies? Homebodies are people not interested in leaving their home. Those who are more happy to stay at home in familiar territory rather than wander far and wide. If you consider an expanded view of what home is then you are actually unable to leave home, ever as home is all around us all. Especially if you include the entire range of homes mentioned from the private body home to your universal mansion. Most of us are homebodies it seems. Nobody should ever feel homeless. Sadly so many do.
Must you only have one home? Wealthy folk have many homes all built on fancy bits of land with views, immigrants also have a few homes as do refugees, travellers and nomads. hi-tech enthusiasts construct and play in virtual homes, You also often change your home at different stages of your life. You can drive a mobile home all over the place. You can also lose your home, disown your home, run away from home and you can feel at home even when you are not at home. Home seems not as stable as it makes out to be. The concept is adored but it is really much more illusive and unsettled than we like to admit.
Is home the actual location where you were born. The source of you? Is it the precise longitude and latitude where your mother gave birth to you? The taxi, the bedroom, the hospital bed, the suburb, the landscape, the culture or the entire environment? To what radius do we extend the concept of home as it becomes ever more porous and abstract the further you move away from your core where pumping heart and busy brain reside. We could continue to conceptually prance about in the wilderness with some kind of homely homesickness or we can home in on the concept of home and simply acknowledge that we are right now actually there. A surprisingly difficult idea for somebody with acute wanderlust.
Memories of birth are not too believable but memories from a toddlers age are often recalled in fragments. Smells, a noise, a shape, a texture or a colour can materialise nostalgically at any time in your life. These could be bits of sensory data directly connected to a location or they may be just memories spawned from the family photos or the stories you have heard when much older. Did you personally experience such feelings and save these inputs for the future in order to ground yourself? Hard to say but reminiscing your past can trigger familiar/family thoughts of stability and this thing called home as you move through life. During your childhood years you formulate connections both good and bad to any number of places all titled ‘home’ and you subsequently create a cherished or not so cherished value about certain locations. All those snippets of stimulus add up to make a package of personal adventures joining you with one or more places. This process continues as you age. Home can be intimately connected with another person and without that other in the vicinity home seems to evaporate. Home hunting really is elusive. You have sometimes heard homes called “real estate” but homes are often a bit unreal.
My homes include the Boronia shrub garden where Bootsy the dog rolled around in possum poo, the spooky, high tree-house my father built for me, my youthful bedroom with record player and special speakers, a town house I shared with Maddog and Vasco da Gama the Burmese cat, a one bedroom flat above a petrol station, a grotty hotel room in Asia, an attic on an Amsterdam canal, a cargo container on an icecap, a farm in the mountains, a shed in the tropics and soon a new a home is planned with Carolina. I can continue to ramble about in the wilderness with some kind of homely homesickness knowing that home sweet home does keep moving or I could home in on the concept and simply acknowledge that I am right now actually at home.
S.E. Broome. Feb. 2022
APRIL
We are currently not on Broome-time. It is Melbourne-time and somewhat cooler. It feels like years since I felt temperatures below 28C and the last time I performed that small wiggle motion called shivering was back in 2017. As always I have lots to do here and many people to see. I immediately need a holiday as the Melbourne big city pace has a very different velocity to the far north western tropical bit of Australia.
Recently many people in Melbourne did escape the city for short holiday adventures. Due to the fact that it was Easter-time which is some kind of celebration honouring a carpenter in the good old days someplace in the middle east who was killed but got better after a little rest in a cave but it may also be about a rabbit that lays chocolate eggs in gardens. I am not too sure. Anyway something odd happened and I believe people celebrate by eating fish and chips on a particular day. All a bit confusing for me. To celebrate I watched a few small parrots flap about, wore a thick Norwegian cardigan and enjoyed the lack of humidity.
Recently many people in Melbourne did escape the city for short holiday adventures. Due to the fact that it was Easter-time which is some kind of celebration honouring a carpenter in the good old days someplace in the middle east who was killed but got better after a little rest in a cave but it may also be about a rabbit that lays chocolate eggs in gardens. I am not too sure. Anyway something odd happened and I believe people celebrate by eating fish and chips on a particular day. All a bit confusing for me. To celebrate I watched a few small parrots flap about, wore a thick Norwegian cardigan and enjoyed the lack of humidity.
ID / SOMEWAYS SEARCHING
SOMEWHERE TO SOMEHOW
SEE SOMETHING OR SOMEONE
FOR SOMETIME.
My works on paper exhibition at Block Projects Gallery in Richmond is up on the walls until 15th May. Please do visit.
Level 1.
252 Church street. Richmond.-
HOURS wed - sat 12 - 5
Tel 03-83951028
SOMEWHERE TO SOMEHOW
SEE SOMETHING OR SOMEONE
FOR SOMETIME.
My works on paper exhibition at Block Projects Gallery in Richmond is up on the walls until 15th May. Please do visit.
Level 1.
252 Church street. Richmond.-
HOURS wed - sat 12 - 5
Tel 03-83951028
This ID show is a somewhat random selection of works on paper created over the past three decades in a wide range of locations. The most extensive group in this exhibition consists of forty-two mixed media works on expired passport pages. The sub-title for these particular works - SOMEWAYS SEARCHING SOMEWHERE TO SOMEHOW SEE SOMETHING OR SOMEONE FOR SOMETIME could function as an ambiguous phrase covering all works in the show.
Wanderlust and wondering permeate all the works. I recall working in a cabin on a cargo container vessel in the Indian ocean, in a shabby Russian studio in St. Petersburg, a smoggy L.A residency, an Antarctic donga, a tin shed in Broome and many more exotic locations but in every studio I seem to operate the same. I explore, experience, experiment, express and occasionally exhibit.
Many of these drawings have been fittingly stored in a suitcase, unseen for years and some have never been shown at all. Block projects gallery presents an overview of my small scale mixed media works on paper which may disorientate or may offer a view to which direction I head to next.
Wanderlust and wondering permeate all the works. I recall working in a cabin on a cargo container vessel in the Indian ocean, in a shabby Russian studio in St. Petersburg, a smoggy L.A residency, an Antarctic donga, a tin shed in Broome and many more exotic locations but in every studio I seem to operate the same. I explore, experience, experiment, express and occasionally exhibit.
Many of these drawings have been fittingly stored in a suitcase, unseen for years and some have never been shown at all. Block projects gallery presents an overview of my small scale mixed media works on paper which may disorientate or may offer a view to which direction I head to next.
MARCH
This is one entrance to a local beach in Broome which can be dangerous I am told but I do love to stroll along it and watch the wobbly water do its thing. What is out there I wonder? Below the blue waves, beyond the horizon? Such a long time since I travelled far.
As I perform my beach strolls I also wonder if there is a smart and decent government somewhere on Earth at the present time? Most seem preoccupied with fear, (war) money (greed) and short term goals (stupidity.) All seem to display a great lack of reality or a reality based on dated dreams, cocktails of paranoia and power, twisted extreme politics or warped religion. The ever so hard won scientific skills we humans have acquired and passed on to many generations seems to be often ignored by many and this creates a strong stink of self annihilation. Luckily all the ultra rich will be fine once they move all their wealth into digital currency and their bodies into comic avatars. Virtual reality land will be fabulous and theres no messy environment to worry about.
I dream of melding a few ideas and forming these into a system that makes the planet liveable. Perhaps first we ease up on the huge amount of mess, shit and fumes we humans produce as a nice climate seems rather wise to aim for. How about a broad but non-governmental political structure a bit like the Antarctica Treaty? Very improbably I know. I consider also that surprising concept from Bhutan called “gross national happiness.” Expand that somehow to - gross universal happiness. We also somehow need to get rid of all those blood stains patriotic national flags and perhaps morph all religions into something with less silly hats and limit the archaic stories. “Dream on!” I hear you say. Yes it is sadly just a dream. After my beach pondering I unfortunately just scuttle back into my studio and drink cheap vermouth on ice without solving any major problems.
Must I travel to another dimension where entities are more intelligent? That could be difficult as there are no buses or trains from Broome to a blackhole or wherever lies the door that takes us to other worlds. Looks like I am stuck here for the time being. Heres a link to a teaser for my film TRAVELESS which is all about travelling nowhere as well as everywhere -
https://www.vimeo.com/user5023369/videos
I recently read that Quantum physicists are getting closer to realise that theoretically/scientifically everything is energy and that reality really is a naughty big illusion. At the Quantum planck scale which is roughly a trillion zillion times smaller than itsy-bitsy everything becomes very weird it seems. At this almost unimaginable level things are so fuzzy that the reality we normally live in becomes absurd and unreal. Something that many artists embrace and something I personally acknowledge especially after my third vermouth on ice.
Time to paddle on in my remote studio surrounded by art, paint, ideas, wild lizards and wishes. I do try to use only what I need, recycle, cycle everywhere on my old bicycle and I don’t eat too much meat. I try to use my brain and I always consider how others view things as we are all without exception extremely fragile, totally bonkers and importantly we all live in this flimsy reality that may not be that real. “Totally unreal dude” one could say.
I dream of melding a few ideas and forming these into a system that makes the planet liveable. Perhaps first we ease up on the huge amount of mess, shit and fumes we humans produce as a nice climate seems rather wise to aim for. How about a broad but non-governmental political structure a bit like the Antarctica Treaty? Very improbably I know. I consider also that surprising concept from Bhutan called “gross national happiness.” Expand that somehow to - gross universal happiness. We also somehow need to get rid of all those blood stains patriotic national flags and perhaps morph all religions into something with less silly hats and limit the archaic stories. “Dream on!” I hear you say. Yes it is sadly just a dream. After my beach pondering I unfortunately just scuttle back into my studio and drink cheap vermouth on ice without solving any major problems.
Must I travel to another dimension where entities are more intelligent? That could be difficult as there are no buses or trains from Broome to a blackhole or wherever lies the door that takes us to other worlds. Looks like I am stuck here for the time being. Heres a link to a teaser for my film TRAVELESS which is all about travelling nowhere as well as everywhere -
https://www.vimeo.com/user5023369/videos
I recently read that Quantum physicists are getting closer to realise that theoretically/scientifically everything is energy and that reality really is a naughty big illusion. At the Quantum planck scale which is roughly a trillion zillion times smaller than itsy-bitsy everything becomes very weird it seems. At this almost unimaginable level things are so fuzzy that the reality we normally live in becomes absurd and unreal. Something that many artists embrace and something I personally acknowledge especially after my third vermouth on ice.
Time to paddle on in my remote studio surrounded by art, paint, ideas, wild lizards and wishes. I do try to use only what I need, recycle, cycle everywhere on my old bicycle and I don’t eat too much meat. I try to use my brain and I always consider how others view things as we are all without exception extremely fragile, totally bonkers and importantly we all live in this flimsy reality that may not be that real. “Totally unreal dude” one could say.
The Wet season arrived finally with about 400 cm of monsoonal rain being dumped on the town. We all got very wet and flooding was complicated for two days. “It never rains but pours” is the old saying. Now things have dried out and I work away as usual. Stitching and experimenting on a large scale as well as rendering and scratching away on small works on paper. It does seem a bit unreal to do what I do especially if I consider the invisible bits.
We went up north one weekend to escape routine and the hot studio with a gaggle of friends. Staying in a charming Pearl divers building now part of the excellent Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm. Games were played and drinks were drunk. Highly recommended.
Soon we head to the city of Melbourne which is far south and far east and far less hot and sticky...
We went up north one weekend to escape routine and the hot studio with a gaggle of friends. Staying in a charming Pearl divers building now part of the excellent Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm. Games were played and drinks were drunk. Highly recommended.
Soon we head to the city of Melbourne which is far south and far east and far less hot and sticky...
JANUARY
My new calendar tells me that it is 2022 and that means we have navigated another lap of the sun on our little blue ball called Earth. It was an eventful previous year but then what year is not? The number of humans have increased across the planet and our stupidity seems to have as well but there are glimmers of hope and some intelligent things happening in many places. Sadly not enough and not nearly enough global coordination. Equality needs a booster and certainly we should try to calm down all our fears and acts of dumb-fuckery. One can only hope ..and as a committed pessimistic-optimist I will carry on and do my best.
As I type a wild red winged parrot flaps and squawks just above my desk so I usher the colourful bird outside. Once the bird flutters away I ponder its beauty and then I ponder my intense mostly solo creative activity in this extremely hot studio. As I type more text I look at an online heat index calculator to see how hot it really is where I am working. The current studio micro-climate is 38 C and 45 % humidity which when combined give me a toasty heat index of 49C and there is an added note - DANGER: at this condition, heat cramps and heat exhaustion are likely; heat stroke is probable with continues activity. That seems not too good.
Why do I do what I do in this studio or any studio for that matter? I could do many things but I committed and settled on this art track some decades ago. It is not an easy job and I have often had to say no to many things and people over the years which may or may not have led me to follow very different paths but a stubborn focus kept me in the art world.
Why do it? It seems to hinge on this innate desire that most artists have. At the beginning there is a want and a need which turns into a great deal of searching due to being both seriously bamboozled and pleasingly mesmerised by the absurd existence we artists and everyone else find themselves in. The good, the bad and the rest are investigated. Lots of looking occurs and then a reaction to what is seen is required.
Next step involves a personal methodology. I paint, sew, grid, grind, scumble, draw, paste, cut, wash, dab, spray, pour, scrunch, erase, burn, shade, fold, rip, stain and visualise a mess of fluid thoughts. An ongoing smorgasbord of techniques and ideas all require taming and then moulding into a new form. Any means desired is acceptable in an to attempt to communicate ones collected experiences. These are the basic rules I believe.
Financial rewards for this pastime are minuscule and the hours are extremely long but it is an adventure that brings a degree of happiness. It is a wayward way and one which each artist formulates themselves. Surely this visual frolicking can’t work but sometimes it actually does.
So here I be in the studio imbibing sensory stimulus then culling the billions of inputs I have received and continue receiving second by second to select, distill and re-construct some bits that linger alongside the ideas that seem more fundamental into something that is freshly fused and perplexingly complete. I best get back to this frenzied process.
As I type a wild red winged parrot flaps and squawks just above my desk so I usher the colourful bird outside. Once the bird flutters away I ponder its beauty and then I ponder my intense mostly solo creative activity in this extremely hot studio. As I type more text I look at an online heat index calculator to see how hot it really is where I am working. The current studio micro-climate is 38 C and 45 % humidity which when combined give me a toasty heat index of 49C and there is an added note - DANGER: at this condition, heat cramps and heat exhaustion are likely; heat stroke is probable with continues activity. That seems not too good.
Why do I do what I do in this studio or any studio for that matter? I could do many things but I committed and settled on this art track some decades ago. It is not an easy job and I have often had to say no to many things and people over the years which may or may not have led me to follow very different paths but a stubborn focus kept me in the art world.
Why do it? It seems to hinge on this innate desire that most artists have. At the beginning there is a want and a need which turns into a great deal of searching due to being both seriously bamboozled and pleasingly mesmerised by the absurd existence we artists and everyone else find themselves in. The good, the bad and the rest are investigated. Lots of looking occurs and then a reaction to what is seen is required.
Next step involves a personal methodology. I paint, sew, grid, grind, scumble, draw, paste, cut, wash, dab, spray, pour, scrunch, erase, burn, shade, fold, rip, stain and visualise a mess of fluid thoughts. An ongoing smorgasbord of techniques and ideas all require taming and then moulding into a new form. Any means desired is acceptable in an to attempt to communicate ones collected experiences. These are the basic rules I believe.
Financial rewards for this pastime are minuscule and the hours are extremely long but it is an adventure that brings a degree of happiness. It is a wayward way and one which each artist formulates themselves. Surely this visual frolicking can’t work but sometimes it actually does.
So here I be in the studio imbibing sensory stimulus then culling the billions of inputs I have received and continue receiving second by second to select, distill and re-construct some bits that linger alongside the ideas that seem more fundamental into something that is freshly fused and perplexingly complete. I best get back to this frenzied process.
INLANDISH 7. 2021. Mixed media. 14 cm x 98 cm Acrylic, cotton, wool, canvas, assorted fabric and threads, Belgian linen.
Back in 2007 I went on a stroll up into the Andes with Carolina. We walked somewhere near five thousand metres above sea level. I recall it was a very different climate and a very different landscape to where I currently work. It was such a stunning trip that I did a little dance on a rock. It has been awhile since I have made any walks up into mountain regions or any long haul trips. Geographically my travels have shrunk considerably since COVID arrived. This should make me totally gloomy but I do think that making art for me is a little like going on a long trip someplace. Some artists intentionally do not plan their creative activity at all. They simply just jump on any vehicle heading anywhere and see where they land. Others strictly plan the venture and have clear expectations and ideas pertaining to the destination but things do happen along the way that are unexpected. These are sometimes called “happy accidents” which are often woven into the journey. The neatly planned adventure nor the random escapade often do not give you what you desire, not what you envisaged but after all... it is an adventure. The exciting part is often the unknown elements encountered. Some trips admittedly do go awfully wrong but it is worthwhile to explore, question and to adapt when need be.
Who knows what you may see and do.
Who knows what you may see and do.
Image C/O Carolina Furque
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Human gags. 2022. Works on paper. Some slightly pessimistic works on paper which poke fun at all silly humans and that certainly includes myself.