Projects
The symmetry of putting your metaphorical eggs all in one basket is that each one is .seemingly uniform but individual.
Each project has a storyline that drives my creativity, open experimentation of mixed medium with a focus on reclaimed materials
project 1 ArtSpace//LifeSpace
Reconnecting with my art to begin a curious journey of rediscovering my SELF. This piece of textured work is the beginning of where I left off as I identify my need to finish this story of relocation and arrival.
The base of a mixed medium piece representing the land beneath my feet.
The Raven ink drawing
The Beef Bone scrimshaw
The day is still, the air is fresh. Fresher than in the city, cooler here where there are less buildings, less roads and more paddocks. I am outside. The garden is browning in the summer-sun. The lawn is getting patchy. Exploring in the front garden I’m surprised to discover what looks to be a part carcass of an animal amongst the plants I have been familiarizing myself with. A piece of meat, predominantly bone, from what seems like a larger animal. How did it get there. I turn up my nose at it. Is it from a fox killing. Maybe by a dog, but it is definitely an unusual thing to find in the garden. Do people go around throwing raw meat into people’s gardens in this town. An inside joke. I’m used to seeing strange items but this is looked different, like someone forgot it. I pick it up and throw it in the bin.
A couple of days later my dog was fossicking around in the backyard. As always looking for something to stick his nose into. A few minutes pass and I can see that he’s got something in his mouth and he’s very proud of himself, like it’s a secret and it all his. He’s not very good at keeping secrets. His bum bounces and his tail wags “What have you got in there. Come on! Come on! Give it up “ I know that it something that he’s not supposed to have because he’s too excited about it. Prizing his jaws apart to see what’s in his mouth. There it is. It’s a small bone, which he knows he should not have. “Where did you get that from “ I asked in chastisement. he’s a bit upset that I’m taking away his prize. He has that hang dog look of loss. I’m still talking to him in the garden. I say It looks like the joint or the knuckle of a larger animal but it is smooth and white. I ask myself, had someone buried animals in this garden and he’s dug them up. No, it look too fresh and a bit too gooey for that. stranger and stranger.
I was meeting lots of new people in town, connecting with all different social groups that were all looking for fresh blood to participate in town activities. Local history buff and town author, Florence, delighted in telling me about the ravens in the town. In my mind they were crows but she assured me that in Australia and in the South West of Victoria specifically, we do not have crows we only have the Raven. The English Raven. Edgar Allan Poe, Gothic gargoyles and the movie 'The Birds' all sprung to mind. She identified to me the tell tale markers of said bird. I was well enlightened on that point and have tried since to address the big black birds that were hang around the town more like seagulls, accordingly as Ravens.
I was beginning to change my way of seeing. Since I had moved to the country, I look up and down for weather and obstacles primarily as both are constantly changing. Rather than, first look about horizontally, safe in the knowledge you don’t know where dangers might come from in the big smoke, here everything appeared non threatening but was a potential hazard. I don’t look out for cars much anymore I look for potholes. rabbit holes or puddles. Out exploring one morning with my new eyes I struck up a conversation with an elderly chap, Bruce. He was not as invested in the big black birds but he Didn’t like the fact that three of them would be sitting in his trees in his backyard at any given time of the day with there eyes watching as the cawed. I laughed saying "I’m glad it’s not just me that thinks it’s a little strange" he said "No, it is peculiar, they are keeping the magpies away but I don’t know why". we hypothesized for awhile as we wandered together.
History and childhood memories combined together in the storytelling about my move to my new home in South West Victoria after living most of my life in a city. Filled with my childhood memories of my father making model tall ships on Sundays at the dining room table with history of said ships battling the shipwreck coast, for migrant pioneers to struggle and trek across this hard environ to get to the goldfields that the indigenous people of this land have called home and navigated for a millennium. Such epic images on my new doorstep of dormant old volcanic land, filled with hard soil and green rocks as I look out at my front yard.
The Raven's Scrimshaw
project 2 the road out
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