Tag Archives: painting

The weight of water modified….

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It is a painting…The weight of water. But as much as I love painting, I also love photography. And I love combining them in new ways. So, this is a photo of my painting…but not a copy of the original painting.   It is something else that is new, exciting and familiar but strange and different.

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Three sisters…

Like three sisters…these three paintings are genetically similar. ..same canvas, same paint pallet,  same creator… but each is in individual, unique and has its own strengths and weaknesses …the same but different.

It feels good to be painting again after a bit of a quiet period as I have focused on photography and writing. I have missed it. I have attached a close up shot of one of the paintings too…so you can see the pinks and indigo and whites…colours of my  favourite black sand beach at sunset. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 


The weight of water.

new painting 1

A new painting. Titled “The weight of water”

Inspired by the black sand, the blue sea and the light shifting on both, where I live.

I hope you like it.

Some close up images below….close up 3close up 2close up new painting


Opening week….

A few photos of the new Black Box Art Studio & Gallery all set up and open for business from tomorrow… Exciting! Black Box art gallery march 2016 029Black Box art gallery march 2016 046

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Mind the gap..

Mind the gap

A creative writing piece.  The theme: Mind the gap…

Mind the gap. Follow the rules. Read the map. Follow the masses. Follow the crowds. Mind the gap and sit next to a stranger instead. Smile at them. Mind the gap between the station where you are meant to get off the train and the one where you do actually get off, just so you can keep talking to that person you have just met but feel you have known a lifetime.

Mind the gap between your toes, between your teeth, the gap between us (counted in years, tears, miles or smiles) the gap between your fat jeans and your skinny ones. The gap between hair-colouring weeks when the silver reminds you that you really truly are over 40. Over the hill, never mind the gap.

The gawky gap between childhood and adulthood…fifteen is an age of just in between, no immature habits should even be seen, stop playing with that toy, you’re being a child, act like an adult, now go to your room and No, you can’t call that boy.

The gap between like and lust…between only just losing and being crushed. The gap between a little white lie and the god awful truth. The gap between friends that once were and your real friends.  The gap between mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters…the gap between feeling fear and doing it anyway, between trusting your instincts and ignoring others, the gap between knowing what you need to do and actually doing it.

Mind the gap between you and those you hold close. Mind that gap the most, pay attention to cracks, even minor ones, close the gap when it gets too big, build a bridge if you have too, and stuff the gap full of love whenever you can.

Mind the gap. The end.

 

 

 

 


A symbol of home…

feb 2014 mountain

I don’t typically take a lot of photographs of the mountain. But you can’t deny it’s majestic presence and its imprint on the psyche of anyone who lives here.  Ask any child from around here to draw  where they live and the familiar conical shape with its ‘too perfect’ snow cap (for most of the year) is almost without exception, the first thing they draw. It really is the sign of “home” that we all recognise.

I was doing observational painting today with a group of children. It was so inspiring and enjoyable to see their passion and enthusiasm for art, nature and painting. Surrounded by spectacular trees, a stunningly wide river, lots of rocks and grassy meadows, a garden full of vibrant flowers…what did they mostly paint when asked to  paint a symbol representing where they were ? What inspired them most? Not the river, or the flowers or the trees… No, they tended to look beyond the obvious. Many cast their eyes into the distance and found the sign of home, their mountain.

 


A thought on personal and individual style.

symbols in home

What is individual style? I have been thinking about this and have come up with a few thoughts about it. To me personal style transcends your home, your studio, your art, your creative endeavours. They are all just manifestations of your style. Your style is you. It is what makes you a unique person on this planet. Style is a reflection of your genuine self, your expression of who you are. Style is understanding who you are and being extremely at ease with that.

Your personal style is partly what others see, it is your art and your creations, your thoughts expressed, your home, and your community. As I think about this I see images from my home, my art, my studio and my journals – all different but threads of the same things – old symbols (hearts, circles, crosses), text and use of letters and words, old patina’s and vintage finds. Trees, beaches, bridges, buildings, houses all feature in my style, as does finding old nests, collecting sea-glass, rocks and shells, quirky finds and birds, horses, growing food, and history all interest me. Writing musings, journalling and playing with mixed media, painting big abstract paintings and trying to do photography everyday are my style. Noticing things others might miss and finding beauty in everyday things are my style. My style is thinking in interconnected circles but writing in bullet points.

Your style is also how you live. Being a mum to four kids will always be my first priority. That’s my style too. Like many of us, I am juggling everyday – the divergent needs and demands of a large complicated and blended family, working to earn income, running, and try to find space in my day to create, fitting in all the other messy stuff in between, that’s my style too.

I am a mother to three boys rapidly moving into that strange place between being men and boys, and one 4 year old princess fairy. A writer and keen blogger. I am a runner. I am a photographer. I am an artist. I am creative. I dream of Italy and of visiting Europe one day. I dream of living closer to the land, but also (ironically) closer to the city centre and so I can smell and hear the sea. I dream of my three sons as babies and wonder at their journey into being young men. I love my pink, sparkly princess who has in a thousand different ways saved me from myself through this process with her enormous smiles, delicious cuddles and piles of charm, giggles and songs. All of this, is part of me.

What has running got to do with style? Running is very much apart of who I am now, after I put on my trainers one year ago exactly and ran to the first lamp post then walked the next two. I run to clear my mind, to think straight, to have my body hurt in a good way. I run so no one can see tears occasionally. I run to have a few precious moments when no-one needs me. Running gives me space to plan, dream and plot. It takes time but it also makes me more creative and more efficient. I also see things that I don’t see when driving or distracted by tasks and errands. They are all part of my style.

Is style is the only thing you have left when you strip everything back to its barest state. Or is style is an individual and original point of view delivered with confidence? Or, the culmination of all the parts of a life brought together? Or is style really just having curiosity, a sense of spirit and confidence in yourself?


A little luck is all you need…

I attended the opening last night of the North Taranaki Community Arts Council’s (NTCAC) exhibition of artists they have supported, including yours truly. Here’s a little tongue in cheek appraisal of the night, based on a book I had as a child – it’s a little like this…

  • What good luck it was a lovely exhibition space (thanks Doug)  and there was lots of wonderful art on display (and lovely dancing).
  • What bad luck my large photograph image was not displayed at the exhibition…
  • What good luck my small image (a framed photograph) looked really lovely.
  • What bad luck everyone ate my gluten-free chocolate brownies before I even got one.
  • What good luck I got to meet a much admired artist (Paul Hutchinson) and tell him I was a huge fan of his work painting “everyday” items.
  • What bad luck the wine ran out so quickly
  • What good luck I met a very lovely artist who told me a thing or two about life and it turns out she and I had much in common despite our significant age differences.
  • What bad luck the NTCAC is closing down (“being absorbed”) after 30 years of supporting artists with small grants.
  • What good luck two of my dear friends came along to support me, along with my ever supportive partner and my daughter.

All, in all, a good night, great art and I will try not to be too disappointed that only one of my pieces made it up on the wall..

It’s on at The Metro Gallery, Devon Street, New Plymouth (across from Hikoi shoes/clothes) until the end of the month. Go along and support our local talent (and Doug’s inaugural Metro Gallery exhibition), if you can.


The fantail lesson

Orchard 021

I love a happy accident. At the time the photograph was taken I had not noticed these wonderful trees. I was taken (and distracted) by something much closer – a little fantail flittering about close by. I captured this lovely bush/tree scene quite by accident. It is a very happy accident. It immediately looks like a watercolour painting to me with its watery, blurry colours but could also be, quite easily, an abstract painting with thick layered, blurred and smudged colours.

I am reminded that there are no such things as mistakes when you are creatively minded. Only opportunities and learnings. It’s a good thing to be reminded of.


The rains have come…

abstract image 2012

The rain has come at long last…starting slowly yesterday with a slow tease, but is now rolling thunder, lighting crashing through the sky, a torrential downpour drenching every surface, filling our rivers and lakes with much needed water.

This image,  a collage/paint/digital mixed media piece seems to be about this moment of rain after the endless summer. It is a fitting visual acknowledgement of the rain that has come, tinged with sadness in the realisation that summer is now, quite possibly over.


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