Moreton Bay Fig

sweet and damp and a little mossy
whiff of red wine and soil
she reaches for the sky
and sheds berries like tears

Christmas Trees

It's lost it's spiritual roots/values, it's crass and commercial, many of the symbols that have been popularised are not applicable to Australia and is really starting to represent much that's wrong with the western world, but despite all this, deep down I love the silly season ... Merry Christmas all!!

Rodin - The Kiss

This is one of my favourite Rodin sculptures. I sketched this whilst travelling through France and Italy earlier this year. The techniques, artistry and beauty of this particular sculpture aside, I really just like the subject. I'm in good company -- there have been many iterations on the theme of The Kiss (Hayez, Klimt, Versari, Munch, Picasso, Lichenstein ....) And why is this theme so beloved of artists? My theory is that the kiss is the goal and apex of romantic (as opposed sexual) love, the curtains fall and the music swells and happily ever after. Ahhh ...

Mallow and Blood

This is the latest incarnation of Flower/Beautiful Vomit. I still have the original painting but scanned it and violated it in many interesting ways using Photoshop. Jury's still out as to whether I'll bite the bullet and paint something in the nonvirtual world over Beautiful Vomit, but for now I'm satisfied, somewhat, with this -- well, satisfied enough to make it into a poster for my store!!

Thunderstorm

tonight the sky splits open
and water and light
seep through the cracks
so still inside and out
am I at peace and/or of stone?

Beautiful Vomit

Beautiful Vomit was born one fine day when I decided once and for all that I really, truly hated Flower (see yesterday's post). Although I loved the shades red I decided in the end that the white pieces of ceramic just didn't really work... ah, yet another piece of my own work to loathe. I was also discouraged by the fact that no one besides me could see that this was a painting of a female head . (She's tilting her head all the way back with her mouth wide open, spewing forth the vomit, so pretty much all you see is a throat, chin and bottom lip). I blame the canvas. The canvas is cursed...

Flower

Uch -- I think I was the Spirit of Banality when I painted this. I despise it so much that I painted over it.

asking

what is it that makes me close my mind my eyes build a wall around my heart of stone what is it in this place that stops me breathing feeling tasting touching what is it about the place i once called home that is no longer?

Getting Older Feeling Younger

Anyone besides me ever think that some of those who engage in actvities considered mature(degree, job, house, married, kids -- in that order) are the most emotionally immature of us all? Overcompensating with external activites to make up for internal deficiencies much?

Then again, I could just be rationalising my own behaviour and values system with that observation. To me, the people who seem to have it really sorted don't get stuck on life's trophies, they just get out there and live.

Yes, yes, it's all a rich tapestry ...

Andy

No, it's not a tribute to one of my sister's friends ... Actually this lovely fella began as an attempt to use some of the more flourescent colours in my chalk box! When I rotated the abstract swirls 270 degrees, suddenly it started looking like a crescent shaped face ... the man on the moon ... the REM song ... the movie that used the REM song ... the main character of said movie ...

BINGO! I mean, Andy! Incidentally, he's available as a large poster from www.cafepress.com/nomadic_artist or you can email me to have him put on a tshirt, clock, mug ... anything you like! (As long as cafepress make it, that is).

Castaway

Inspired after a conversation with an office drone, three or four months ago. Notice how the office accoutrements (water cooler, shirt) are gigantic, but the person is minimised, marginalised. The office worker is only half a being: head and arms used for operating the computer; living in a greyscale, carboard world, oblivious to the brilliant colour of the outside world.

Peter

He leans on the kitchen bench
Weight on one hip, writing and
So aware of the sensuous
Curves of his frame.

Probably.

Postcoital.

On the small screen
We watched the world go by
Lying side by side
Like jigsaw pieces.

Spirit of Banality

Regarding the couple on the bus behind me who complained about the smallest of everything for the entire 30 minute journey, I think Oscar said it best. "It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious."

Assimilate

I used gesso (a white, plaster/paste-like substance that dries hard), weather strips and some old badges to create this piece. I like how you see the progression through time as the badges become more uniform in appearance to the background they are sitting upon -- as if plants have slowly grown up and over abandoned buildings.

Path

Path was inspired by the Brett Dean work Vexations and Devotions. The melody at end of the third momement uses text from a Michael Leunig poem called The Path to Your Door and is sung hauntingly by childrens' choir. It was eventually painted after a long period of study sketches.

The original sketch was in pen during a meeting (I was particularly attentive to my work that day). I actually prefer the pen sketch to the painting as its high detail and lack of colour give it a stark look, which is much more inkeeping with the feeling the music first evoked in me.

Lode Runner

Does anyone remember that game??

Postcoital

These things she can touch:

A wisp of hair,

The curve of her neck,

Her flushing cheek.

Instead:

She remembers their kiss

And she waits.

Watercolour painting is tricky, but I think this one has worked out well. The subtle changes in the intensity of the background colour are like a mist or perhaps tear stains, and the female figure is discernible, but incomplete. I enjoy the painting so much more because of its pairing with the poem. There are days when life is new and shiny and nights when ghosts tap and sigh upon the glass -- Postcoital was written during the latter time. Although I wrote it when relfecting on one particular man, the sentiment of the poem is applicable to many of the men I've known. Even when I think I have no emotional attachment to someone or I've severed the attachment, there always seems to be the ghost of one lurking in the mist.

Sea Dragon

This post card was painted on the Beijing and Hohhot legs of my China journey (actually, mostly at the train station during the 8 hour wait between those two cities). Note the Chinese influence in the detail of the clouds and scales of the dragon, and the Japanese influence in the detail of the waves. The question is, who did I post this to???