29 July 2010

Opening Night

Just outside the window a Starling is singing his song and the rain is gently falling. The scene is glossy green and misty white.

Soon we (my blogless, websiteless artist friend A'sha and I) will head off to the Gala Opening of the NZ Art Show. I am so inspired already by all the art I have seen there. This should be a good weekend.

27 July 2010

Hanging

The good news people, is, I have finished. Artworks are dry, labelled, packed and ready to hang tonight! I'm hoping to hold onto what little energy I have left for a few more hours before I collapse into much needed rest. Who knew making a ga-zillion pieces of art, tweaking and updating my website, putting together a facebook page, designing a catalogue, biz cards and a host of other things would be so much effort?

Two days until the NZ Art Show opens!


13 July 2010

Lovely Lady

While flipping through a friends copy of Advanced Magnetism 1925 (a very curious book) on the weekend I came upon this photo tucked in between the fragile pages. The topic of the book was intriguing enough, this little gem the icing on the cake. She gave it to me, it was meant to be, you see.

Hasn't she a lovely face? I think I would have liked her if we had met, and the little one's hat, adorable.

08 July 2010

07 July 2010

Sunrise

A winter sunrise on a day much fairer than today. Today, grey, grey, grey. With some rain thrown in for good measure.

05 July 2010

100 Lovely Things

Three weeks to go until the New Zealand Art Show and things are beginning to come together. This piece is one of my largest yet, 30x40 inches. Mixed media on canvas.

I'm in the addictive phase of my art making process right now, in the zone, the flow. Whatever you want to call it I cant get enough of it. Its invigorating, inspiring, enlivening and now I must go to get my next fix.

30 June 2010

Mrs Archibald

Mrs Archibald's photograph came into my possession long after she had left this life and shortly after the photo's slow passage from Canada. She probably never imagined that a trace of her would end up here. Far, far from where her life was lived.

I see Mrs Archibald wearing a thick skirt, layers and folds of fabric dragging and swishing around as she walked. A heavy key always concealed in a pocket deep amongst that fabric. I'm not sure what door the key unlocked. When she could steal a few moments to herself she would escape to the garden with a book. She loved to read, but all to often instead her mind would wander. Inevitably to wind up in the warm glow of distant memories of Brazil, of Physalis and that one wonderful day.