Amelia Carson: I draw, I write

Hello you lot: it’s been a while.
Sorry about  that.  As many of you know I am busy incubating child numero tois.
It’s been a bumpy ride...
The first six months of the gestation was battered blue by perinatal depression as I blogged, briefly, about here. I took my mother’s advice and I wrote. Just in case you know anyone who suffers from this awful and not too common condition I recommend Panda as a great resource.


 During this time I was also published, (yippee) in the Australian Poetry Journal (here), but I think I was too tired to tell you about it. It’s about my perspective on country creating and includes a rather succint and mildly exagerated autobiography. But after the thrill of being published. I had to miserably pull out of exhibitions and not make the not-so-inaugural calendar. After that there was the general tiredness of incubating and parenting. Three pregnancies and I may have learnt to go sleep; three pregnancies and I, (may) have learnt the importance of doing  nothing. Luenig’s beautiful answer to the question: “What is worth doing and what is worth having? ….Why it is worth doing nothing and having a rest”,  became my mantra.  After trying to tame my black dog with a multitude of large, bitter to swallow  multivitamin tablets and concoctions I found relief, (and sometimes I felt  myself) in half a tinsy white pill. Anyway it became obvious the art, writing was to take a giant second, third, fourth and fifth to my health and that of  this growing family.  So I doubt I’ll be posting regularly or often, (arggghh worse rule of blogs). However I will endeavour to still share all the things I love with you like:
 
Drawn From- a group for sharing creative opportunities on Facebook, you can join in too!


Lily Mae Martin's updated website and new project Berlin Domestic: (its lovely)

Eric Henshall's new Facebook Page: like it peeps he is going to Paris and
might just keep us updated

Amanda Palmer’s fab blogand fab nudie photo that got me chastised by Facebook for showing offensive and explicit material…pfft
And I’m sure there will be more…one day. 
In the meantime from me and the about to EXPLODE belly:

  Happy New Year And Happy 2012

    Every now and then someone: a painter, a songwriter, or a poet, comes along whose work seems to echo your soul. Their timing is perfect: the work turns up just as you need it and this coincidence brings a smile. Its shared and familiar truth brings a tear, a cup of tea for the soul; a pat on the shoulder, an ally, a comfort....

Teresa Bell, an Australian writer and poet, is that "someone" for me........

A couple of years ago a friend gave me a copy of Teresa's book "36 Formless Writings"- I was immediately beguiled. The book is beautiful: elegant and concise. It's front cover is decorated with a drawing by Joy Hester, a favourite artist of mine and further flicking revealed a reference to Kathe Kollwitz, another favourite so my sense of affinity was secured.

Now, excuse me here as I digress a little: When I first began this blog I was very aware that I didn't want to venture into the personal instead I wanted to keep it 'art' focussed. I especially wanted to avoid the "mother" thing, despite how much it informs my point of view. However, as I write this that line I drew in the techni-webby sand might be blurred.

When I received my copy of "36 Formless Writings" I was in a vulnerable place. Struggling a little with the shift and adjustments called motherhood. Loneliness, sleep deprivation, mood swings, longings and vague dreams were churning and it was less then fun.

Teresa's writing was a door to a small bit of healing: familiarity can be so kind.

Pieces like this became mantras.....

        
            and this became faith:

This year she popped back into my life: so did vulnerability. As I mentioned last blog: I am pregnant and the news, (in all honesty because that is the stock I prefer to trade in), was a mixed bag. I am so very keen to welcome a lovely new member to our lovely family, but this pregnancy has been hard. Emotional. Draining. Vulnerable. And bubbalugs hasn't even been born yet.
As all of this emotion crescendo-ed into a teary trip to the doctors, that same friend wrote to tell me that she had just received a copy of Teresa's new book. It was dedicated to all those who have suffered or are suffering from depression.  I smiled, there it was again: coincidental familiarity. A consolation to ward off the loneliness and the selfish pit of absorption that took colour from the world.


My friend also sent me this:

Ah the release that a few familiar words can give. The recognition of ourselves in others stories is such a powerful aspect creation I believe. The above consolatory, poetic, rub on the back. A new mantra. A touch of hope.  Thank you Theresa

However, I must tell you that it is not just coincidental and the fatalistic nature of my encounters with her words that I value so much in Teresa's books, in her poetry. Not by any means, because I also love the slip between dream and reality she creates. The poetic sense of magic realism she captures in her "real world" quotes. I love her awareness of the page, of the paper and how her poem sits upon it. Of the restrained and pared back use of images and typography. The lack of rhyme, but the ever present awareness of rhythm and repetition. Yup I learn a lot from Ms Teresa Bell and  I wish I could thank her in person: you never know this might find her in the wide-weird-fatalistic-coincidental world of the web.

    
    I hope you read that title with increasingly high pitched fervour...... A week or so ago I was informed by the Just Another Agency power duo Toby and Melika that I had WON the book "LOVE IS HERE"... a small black and white pictorial book where artists responded to the notion that there are many ways of saying I love you... (I think mine is giving hubby the sleep in...).
Now, I haven't won anything since the grade four "Guess the Amount in the Lolly Jar" competition. Which my mother tried to convince me was my latent maths ability showing it's feverish head... no......mum... no. So, yes very excited about that little PEAK!
Thanks Just Another Agency- and folk do go a check out their blog. They represent some great artists including some personal favourites of mine like Non Kinnear King and Ears . The Just crew are so cheerful and enthusiastic about the industry. They support, praise and shout about local arts. I have found their blog and facebook page to be a great place/way of seeing how and what some of the industry is doing: a view that can be difficult to garner from behind gum trees.
 Internet how I love thee.   You give me access to a wide wide world......Ah, so now we get to the VALLEY..............

DAMYOU ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ- ok I am drawing the line at naming and shaming,  but I am disapointed ... they sent me the wrong shoe.
Instead of these:

I got these:

This is my third fffffffreaking disapointment. The first, you may remember, was that nipply issue of my nuddie shoe. This potentially cute as shoe was deemed too "offensive and inappropriate......"for production. Ok, I could ver, almost,... kinda see their point. And I could console myself with the fact that it was downright arty to be accused of being " offensive and inappropriate...". 

 Then when I went to place my new amended order there was this irritating credit card issue where despite my billing/delivery address utterly matching the one on my credit card they claimed it didn't. Errrghgh, nothing irritates me more the trying then trying to clear up a bureaucratical error.
We then had an issue of sizings... they didn't stock a full range. And then, of course, the afore mentioned :

This all means that while I've confirmed the shoes are a great and novel product the producers service is utterly rotten and this designer must remove them. BYE BYE SHOES, and apologies to all who would've enjoyed a pair..... if your dead dead dead keen contact me and we'll work something out :)

Ok so life is full of PEAKS and VALLEYs--- I am pregnant, now a definate PEAK it will have genuine valleys. One of which is a pulling back from all of this, as a massive chunk of my bodies energy is going into producing a baby. I will blog when and as I can, write when and as, and, draw when and as..... I have had to, unfortunately, turn down work, but bubba lugs and mumma jugs, (well the jugs aren't there quite yet), need looking after.


See you all very soon xxxx

 My brain is turning in on itself, tangled like sheet at the end of another hard night, so I am resting and keeping you all primed with poems from the backlog. x Amelia


In my children's bedroom


I stand in the dark
Towel forgotten in one hand
Memories forgetting in the other

I am the slut
              Remembering
I am the mother
              Listening
I am the woman
              Culminating

And I stand in the dark
              
              Dripping

Lucian Freud, Margeret Olley and Amy Winehouse all passed away. All in their own way BRILLIANT.

I cannot say much else, really. I don't know if I am equipped to- but I'll no doubt one day give it a go.

So instead I am going to post what I had in mind last week- some poems.

Tension


Tension is about the teeth
about discipline and sleep


I have 22 fillings
Counting.


Loneliness is about the distance
between shallow distractions.


I have 10 fans
Counting.


Obsession is about the mouse
clicking spangled jewels into patterns.


I have 96 000 points
Counting.

Avoidance is about the bed
clenching time within sheets.

I have three hours
Counting.

Passion is about the substitutes
foot massages and a glass of water

We have ten years
Counting.

Patience is about the belly
involuntarily moving.

I am 36 weeks
Counting.

Thank You TarraWarra 

On the weekend we braved fog and rain and hills and potential toddler windy-road-induced-vomiting to adventure to Healesville, home of the TarraWarra Museum of Art.

I wanted to check out the Archibald finalists.

 I started seeing the 90-year-old Archies when I was 13, but had to miss it last year due to Mummyness and distance.  So I was excited when I learnt that some brilliant person had decided to tour it regionally. Thank you whom ever you are and thank you TarraWarra for being such a wonderful host.

This is the second time I have visited this gallery and I love it: I love the drive there; love the setting, the rammed earth building and the huge windows framing the rolling green views and the coffee! (Sorry there is a shortage of good coffee in my hills). I also love that each time I have visited, the people working at the gallery have been friendly, smiling, easy and hospitable. They made my family and I feel quite at home as they have not a whiff of aloofness- it’s a lovely touch to what is for me a treasured experience.

Of course all of these things are merely the decorations to icing on my arty farty cake that is the Archibald prize.

 I love this competition because of it’s history, of it’s occasional controversy, because of my memories of pockfaced, teenaged summers spent in the free air conditioning of the National Gallery and because every year the Archibald prize thrusts Art into the spotlight.

Now to the exhibition- I’ll admit to a selfish moment of disappointment when I saw the crowds but the not-so-selfish other side of this coin went “wohoo” the Archibald will be back next year! And kudos to gallery for managing the level of people in with the paintings which were hung so professionally and with a flow that took in account size, style and approach. Now of course there were some images I didn’t like, some that disappointed and others that left me puzzled in unpleasant way but that is the nature of this exhibit and being the positive type of woman I am I am gonna focus on my personal standouts.

I adored the pink portrait of John Coetzee by Adam Chung (winner of the peoples choice).  I loved the scale, the expression but most of all the brush strokes! Whilst I admire highly realistic, technically superb, almost photographic paintings, (how can you not), I am realising that I am drawn to texture and this had it in controlled bucket loads.

I was also very excited to see a Del Katherine Barton in the flesh as I love her creations. Mother, (a portrait of Cate) was striking, ethereal, detailed and strong. The layers of detail, the decorative elements, the dots and clamour on the canvas, the interplay between controlled patterning and loose embellishment, her water logged eyes and gorgeous fingers: so much to love, such a thrill. However, if I dare, I have one taste based criticism of Dell’s work and that is that I am starting to find the style and motifs repetitive, a bit same samey from piece to piece….. There I said it, i criticised one of my artistic idols. This realisation did one thing for me though: it answered last weeks question about focussing on one particular style- I cannot do it because I appreciate versatility, have a short attention span (demonstrated by my ever changing hair colour and staccato chip, chop and change conversation topic style). Yes rather then build one style  I do believe that investigating and exploring different techniques will eventually come together in some rather exciting work. Well, that’s the plan.

Ok and now for my star of the show. I agree with the judges Ben Quilty’s portrait of his friend and mentor Margaret Olley was ahh, sigh, really really good. It grabbed my breath by its thick painted fists and my eyes danced with joy- It was so much better then any reproduction I had viewed- where to start? Well, I saw it across the room and was enraptured by the gentle femininity and the conviction of both the subject and the artist’s syle. I saw and loved simple casting of the likeness in thick broad brushtrokes. He has painted Olley with a direct and firm tenderness caught in his strong wide style, her wise lived in wet eyes her aging skin and small mouth. I was drawn to the large canvas and amazed at how this tight, effective construction became smears of thick paint that hung in sculptural wads on the canvas as you got closer to the work. Hammering home my love of texture. I was amazed, how on earth did he manage it: to capture that firm likeness so well whilst not being able to see the whole picture when close? I’d love to see footage of him working so I could learn, (c’mon Artscape, Artnation, Anyone? ) and I’d love to see more of his work.

Here are a few others I thought might deserve a mention; there is the squint in Tom Mcbeth’s  portrait of Jessica Watson (the youngest person to sail solo and unassisted around the world). The glare and the squint was so real I got a sense of the sitter as well as the artist. The same effect was found in the portrait of Hugo Weaving by Nicholas Harding, though in the case of this painting the description occurred with a lounging posture rather then a squint. And finally, the miniature self portrait by Natasha Bieniek was stunning in it’s tinsy technicality and expression squeezed into the size of two stamps: quite amazing.
And that is a wrap folks, until next year, if you’d like a bit of a looksy at and about the paintings this link can help:

http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/archibald-wynne-sulman-prizes-2011/finalists/archibald-finalists/

Cheers y’all, I’ve been inspired into some (self) portraiture: it is a work in progress.

 I have been writing: tiny snippets of tiny things. Sentences that float on the page to be harvested and woven into something of substance in some kind of future: or they just float as I lack the heart to pin meaning upon them….. My drawing is in a similar place and I am feeling rather disjointed.

I wonder how am I supposed to convince my audience there is a sense to all this: or at least a reason to look, when I struggle with the sense bit myself. 

You see I wonder if I should be dedicating myself to the work that gets the most feedback and perfecting it or do I trust my chaotic, bitsa this bitsa that work ethic to get me there in the end?

Should I be embracing the idea of discipline or do I accept the vague notion that I have a natural dislike of such impositions and tend to lie on the couch eating cheese if I “should” be doing something. So, maybe its best whilst I have to cope with all the other “shoulds” a mother has to digest, maybe it is best that I just float.

 In that spirit of floating I am posting a mixed bag of the last couple of weeks produce:

Oh and nothing is finished, nor connected: it has been a bitsa week... you'll forgive me won't you and feel free to leave a comment- it helps the float.
 

This morning is recycled coffee

and a second son forced into patience and adaptability

It is

unstitched eyes waking between a starched neck and folded toes.

Breakfast gives false start to a day that never ends

In case your wondering what her head says, this is it. An ode to cheese:

Love

Swealtering on the couch sweating vinyl slouching

Love

Lying in pool of myself eating rich creaming

Love

Rolling the thick cheese round my thick slippery

Love

Letting the thick slippery creamy oozing decadent moment

Drop

I discovered the artist Lily Mae Martin when I noticed links to her website on the pages of other artists I admired. I was immediately attracted to Lily's work as it was skilful and challenging. The technical skill shown in her drawings is fantastic and developing with every new work. The palette that is used in her paintings is rich, vivid and hyper real. I love that Lily draws equally well pictures squirrels and pictures that depict violence. She paints tender portraits of her baby and the more challenging depictions of sex or the grotesque. She is an explorer. So without further ado I give you my interview with the talented and sometimes pictorially contradictory Lily Mae Martin.

So there you have it people please pay attention to thie work of Lily, as she said her website is under construction but you can see her Blog here: I am very glad she decided she could write. This is a link to her Facebook page. I promise to let you know when the website is up and running. So stay tuned.
Next week's(ish) blog is as yet unthought of- my creativity is having a little sleep under the couch but some thoughts are devalopping around the ideas of style: how much is choosen and constructed and where does my confidence and honesty to my practice sit with in it: big ideas for a sleep hungry brain my friends.

Last week my first guest on I Interview David Litchfield finished his Drawing a Day project. I, for one, am going to miss being greeted on Facebook by his imagination and pencils. As the final day drew near and I grew mildly crankier Iwas thinking perhaps I'd just not look at the last drawing then I could pretend.... but I am glad I did look because there it is, down below. What a wonderful THANK YOU! How flattering and touching, but also what a fantastic indicator of the symbiotic relationship between artist and audience. We creators thrive on feedback- almost any. It motivates us and helps us grow and learn.
 I hope by now readers that you understand I reject the artist as loner stereotype. I believe so strongly in the importance of creative communities, we spend enough time alone in front of the desk, the page and the easel. We need stimulation and responses and interaction on all sorts of levels- like any other little person. I remember listening to a lecturer insist that the cafe culture of artists was dead and being too young and too timid to say to her - your BARMY. As if! Restructured, maybe. Novel, probably. Different, definitely. But DEAD! Seriously. At that stage the internet was a burgeoning phenomenon and only hinted at the new ways for people to form creative circles, David’s drawing demonstrates the beauty of just one aspect of this wonderful development. His community of fans, followers and creatives enjoyed the year and he created one of the loveliest “Thank You’s” I have ever seen:

I would like to thank David for his interview, his generosity and the gentle inspiration and lessons I took from his project: trust, courage and giving it go- Old lessons that still need teaching over and over again.

Stay tuned for the next installment of I Interview next week with another brave and talented artist:
 Lily Mae Martin