Coast house garden, before the remodelling

Very artistic, very cluttered. I knew I couldn't sell the house like this, but at least documented it.
Mum had a green thumb, had a garden wherever she lived, always growing a new one.

By clearing out the clutter and creating space and light, perhaps at least, the new owners may
see it as attractive and usable as is, and not destroy it totally.

 Time, like the seasons, passes here.

 A place for contemplation, greenery, colour and peace.

Some photos - art, coast house and more.

Here is a little overview of some interesting features up at the coast house before dismantling.

 Photos of my brother Michael, Lady Godiva door knocker, me as a child,
me in the 80s, Saint Francis of Assisi.

 Taxidermied Tawny Frogmouth, resplendent with cobwebs, butterfly under glass, 

daughter Bec has these now.

 2 of Mum's traditional mosaics with some religious art.

 A relative, love this photo.

 Nice woven textile.

 Dressing table items, pokerwork, lace and nature.

A clay cat I made as a child. Below: a clown I decorated years ago, painted and made 

all the clothes for, including little silver leather shoes.

A new year - a new me 2014

Where did last year go? Certainly had so many personal, family and creative challenges going on.

Where do I start?
Three huge things come to mind. You may have read that last blog, my Mother was dying. August 3 that happened, and I found out that it was the day before my baby sister's death. Not much was known about her, until I found some clues.

We named her before Mum died, and so Michaela Liana was recognised, had a tiny pink cupcake in the hospital, a significant ritual was performed, and a bigger cake at home made by my daughters.
Forever those 2 dates intertwined birth, death, death.

Hopefully Mum was given some closure, it was very sad for me because after her death (baby)I never got back the same Mum. For me from 3yrs of age, life was very difficult. I put her on Mum's death certificate, along with a title for Mum: Artist.

During all this stressful time, my twins were doing their HSC trials and final exams, enjoying their boyfriends, social activities, learning to drive, having their final big Formal.

Reality sets in that I now have 3 adult children. My earlier mothering phase is done. They have to now learn independence. So do I.

What next for me? A new career? More art practice? I hope so.

Also though, a huge creative year, a big art show with The Press Gang, 'Indigo' - our best to date. I was part of the publicity team, and for some reason, probably distraction from the huge loss and confusion, threw myself wholeheartedly into it.

Maybe a tribute to Mum, a lifelong sufferer of Depression and various phobias, a blue staircase installation.
Money raised for Beyond Blue, an organisation for Mental Health.

I've got past Xmas, New Year, my 56th birthday - hugely spoilt at that one, and now back at Printmaking.
Life will never be the same again. Hopefully though, eventually, when her Estate is settled, better.

So many creative directions I could choose. Where to start? As a catch up with you, dear reader, some art examples from last year.

 This is the lining artwork for my 'Returned To Glory' recycled art entry, mainly all plastics.

A lovely antique original pencil sketch I have now inherited.

 Detail of hatbox. Acronym in title 'Hatbox of Hope', means: help our polluted environment.

 A Balinese lady, vintage painting of Mum's.

 An oil painting by my artist ancestor, slightly primitive, but so peaceful. Turn of the previous century.

 My girl Bec's Major Work for HSC Visual Arts.

 My girl Sam's Major Work, one of a series of paintings, for HSC, she sold some before she finished school!

 The Press Gang, holding components of the mobile installation, along the blue staircase installation.

My gorgeous girls, dressed for Formal with their lovely boys. Sam in a vintage lace dress, Bec with real feather earrings, and a botanical print. Can you guess who is going to study Environmental Science,
and who is going for Design and Media at Uni? 

The Winter Of My Discontent?

Mum is dying. Traumatic week's of finding a diagnosis, reality setting in. Exhausted in
every possible way already.

How to keep on? It's her birthday today, in hospital. She may go home tomorrow,
to face more challenges.

Wish I wasn't the eldest, most responsible one. Why aren't there a bunch of siblings
and nice Aunts to help?

Art-making falls to the wayside, it was hard enough to find time to turn up to do duty
at an art show I had committed to earlier. Scraped in by 15 minutes collecting my
entry at close of show today, on way to hospital again.

I swing between telling people and keeping the awful secret. What on earth do you say
anyway?

2013

Printing
  Well I've been participating in this Printmaking Studio for 21 months. So much time, but not a lot of exhibition-grade work. The reason for this? First commitment, clearing the way to make this day set in stone.
  That meant asking a favour, and changing a day for one of my students, after 11 years probably fair enough.
  Settling in, learning how to develop an art practice again. Settling in socially, exciting at first, especially as this facility is new too, meeting people, promoting centre etc. Learning new techniques, drypoint, collagraph, learning to spell Collagraph! Revisiting linocut, although spent my childhood doing this, more refined efforts now. Seeing others do multiple plates, and also seeing reduction linocut.
  Working my way through producing anything of a high enough standard to make the grade. Exhibiting so far twice with this group, and also participating in a print exchange, first time ever. Patience learnt as you wait your turn in the print queue.
  Now the biggest test of patience ever, modifying how I work. Physically somewhat compromised now as I get the awful diagnosis of Osteo-Arthritis. Spine, shoulder, neck, leg, hip and arm, all affected. Had to be my drawing arm of course! I thought a large drypoint on copper was causing me a lot of pain and discomfort, now I know why.
  So modifying how I do things, shorter bursts of activity, and rest in between, a good excuse for a cuppa! Now I love monoprints, just draw an image and print. Rich coloured water soluble oil pastels are proving a good medium, and as drawing is my strong point, suitable for me. Less pressure applied as opposed to pushing tools over and over, repetition causes a problem.
  Only one print can be made from a monoprint, though sometimes also a ghost (second print). I like the painterly effect, textured and interesting. Just seeing results of laying over a drypoint. They are a bit precious as you can only get one. Copper sheet might be a good plate, and easy to clean off too. What are the best, plastic plates, or metal ? Constant experimentation.
  First attempts at encaustic collagraph. Had saved up a lot of cheese wax coating, and melted it, spooning it onto a plastic plate, recycled from packaging, not much goes to waste around here. The wax is so hot, melts a plastic spoon, luckily used a stainless steel frypan to hopefully clean off properly. After altering and scraping back, will probably shellac this plate as wax is so soft, and must think cleaning off too. Will not apply so thick a layer next time.
  A very eclectic mix of people, and so of course their artistic output. I get just as excited seeing others process as my own. Still as well as the print projects, there is a good camerarderie as we all seem fond of flora and fauna, gardening and cooking.

Not A Loser
Well for once, not a loser. A contender in a competition I felt strongly about,
and worked really hard on.
'Returned To Glory' is now an annual, recycled materials art exhibition and
competition. It embraces things I believe in, art, creative concepts, the bringing
together of community, environmental issues and the written word.
So when this year it was announced there would be a special category - A Literary
Section, to celebrate the year of reading with our local library, I was hooked.
It makes sense to me that artists can source very economical or even free material,
that it is turned into something striking, eye catching, decorative or useful.
Then as a very diverse and fascinating event, it shows in such an accessible and
whimsical way, waste is not necessarily waste it is a valuable resource.
It's not junk, it's Art, Design, Functional. Ugly becomes beautiful. That is a creative
writing exercise I know, but true here too. Totally educational to the broader public,
not just art and craft lovers.
So it all makes sense to get involved, with my previous personal experiences and
interests such as - a wildlife carer and rescuer, bush regenerator, artist, graphic
designer and amateur naturalist.
Living in a brilliant natural wonderland, I am daily observant of the changes of season,
and the wonderfully diverse flora and fauna.
Weaving all these elements into an artwork was a real labour of love. The question
was, would it draw attention or meaning to anyone else?
In  the end it did. I'm so weird and eclectic with my artwork, that it often only means
something to me.
I won the category I was aiming for, and the Library bought it. It will go on show and
may travel. So the public at large will see it, and hopefully it's message of recyclables,
art and environment will speak to many.
I especially hope, as a Community Art Teacher, the message will be clear to children.
Last night at the opening, children seemed enchanted. After explaining to two little boys
'No, the cases don't open up, all the little birds will escape', I was able to tell them the
story about the real eggshells to be found in the tiny paper nest. That they came from
seagulls nesting on Cockatoo Island on Sydney Harbour.

36 plastic CD cases, each one a collage from a water damaged bird book, with added detail, or engraving on the outer clear casing. No. 21 case is the bird nest. This is more 3D.

Detail of the word tree of bird definitions, and descriptions. Detail of bird nest.

Word tree in development. I like words.

A Cold Wind

You win some, you lose some.

Why do I feel no joy at a half win? Ideas offered on a plate, twisted and used
as bullets in an assassination.

Progress, bloody progress. To gain something, always seems to mean loss of
something special, unique.

The worship of the motor vehicle goes on.

I feel gutted and my writhing corpse left out to dry. Not to worry, the birds of
death will pick it clean, the bones, bare bones will be white and sanitized, all will
be tarred over in time.

Civilisation, as transitory as a landscape reworked and rebuilt by an army of ants.

The beating heart was not valued, and without care, died. The smug lords, drunk
and arrogant on power and greed, bare their fangs.

I hope their comeuppance is brutal, and with much suffering, so finally their eyes
are opened, and made aware of the damage they must pay for.

Yet it will come too late, the behemoth is booked, awaiting it's grim task. It will
be efficient.

One day ...