Posted on January 31, 2019
Posted on April 30, 2015
Even in the minute wilderness in the corner of a modest backyard, there is a certain adventure to be had. Finding creatures that wiggle and squirm under a rock, sticks; stones and dirt that mimic an avalanche; leaves and vines that could be the terrain of a strange new world. A child’s garden is a place where imagination takes refuge, where games find a stage, and where time is strangled by inextricable creepers.
Posted on February 14, 2015
This was painted in tandem with “A Child’s Garden” a some what more orthodox thematic approach. It occupies a piece of canvas that was first part of a large painting from 1994 “probation Broken”- A year of discovery, a year of trial and error, a year of great productivity and intense feelings.
I kept this fragment, just as I have many other works, because paintings remain constantly evolving. They reach conclusion at unexpected times, and sometimes they fail to reach a point of resolution.
Posted on November 21, 2014
A dramatic three weeks, over shadowed by the loss of someone dear, a young man with a big heart and a big smile. I will miss his cuddles and his funny walk and his ready laugh that was so infectious. He allowed me to discover my inner uncle again. Maybe these are the gates to another place where imagination replaces all that is pedestrian, all that is plain. An invitation to the party of my mind.
Posted on October 23, 2014
Every night I crash, despite the desire to continue the street art project. Then, overwhelmed by a sense of uselessness, I abort and seek the comfort of the pillow instead. I’ve been sitting on a number of pieces for a while now, but last night the urgency had returned. The ANU bus stop has bared the remnants of an earlier work since April, and the temptation to add to the spidery grasses has been a nagging constant.
Hard at work, 45 after 12, I was surprised by two students retiring late. They walked straight paste, didn’t even cast a glance, like I was invisible – and maybe I am. The work something to pick at between buses, as invisible as I?
The night all around seems to reduce most personal fears, and the belief in invisibility has crept in though still the curved concrete does provide a nook to hide a body not really wanting to be seen, and with each passing taxi, I curl into the cream surround – similarly black as the vista beyond the reach of street lights, the air smelling of dew and me accepting of the ritual.
Posted on October 8, 2014
I’ve seen this ‘Art’ stencil for about a month in a bus shelter that previously sported my Valentines Tableau paste-up. A question? a statement? or a challenge? I could not decide. My idea was simple, art in a vacuum – seemed an appropriate surround for the lonely words and last night, having fallen asleep on the couch (for a change!), I awoke with my feet tangled in the delicate wire that was my paste-up to be. The time was right and the feeling,nothing a yawn or a cloud could dismiss.
The air was spring clean weighed down by photinia blossom and expectancy. The young crimson leaves highlighted at the tips, touched by the full moon. An unmarked Police car raced a red light sirens blazing, seemingly reaching 160 km before the road dips at the edge of Scullin. An animal something between an over fed tom cat and a bull mastiff was in hot pursuit. The job was swift, and the transformation of the public amenity pleasing, and I returned home with the thought ‘why the great hiatus?’
Posted on August 10, 2014
A long afternoon of exploring the back streets lay ahead. This time south of Kingsford Smith drive, a large arterial dividing suburbs and whose street lamps illuminate the back veranda by night. Sunday afternoons also hold a special light, and a mood sharpened by the prospect of diminishing freedom before another working week. It makes one embrace the activity with extra effort and weave a fabric of laughter and simple acts – moment by moment. A tantrum is more easily tolerated, and when a suitably dreary patch of grey presents as a likely ground for street art, the feeling that it was meant to be prevails.
We rounded one curve from a bike path hugging a stretch of green, into another made tunnel like by dense over hanging greenery spilling over back fences on one side, and screening a large concrete culvert on the other. Then down a windy slope to where the grey walls of the underpass presented themselves. The kids dismount, swoop and prowl, flutter and fade as I add my colourful formation – an incongruous mystery. I pick up the pace chased by an encroaching shadow and only a solo jogger bares witness contributing a smiley hello to the afternoon’s proceedings. With the playtime amnesty broken by a fresh tiff, and a coolness returning to the air, we don helmets and head for home, happy to call it a day.
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