INTRANSIT 2022
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.