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I took some time out from painting on the weekend and went to Ballarat with my partner and his two boys. A dear friend of mine had invited me to her partner's, (Ted May), exhibition at Ballarat Fine Art Gallery.
It has been a while since I have been to any sort of art event or exhibition opening. I think the last opening I went to was my own in April last year. A lot has changed since my days as gallery manager at Metro 5 Gallery, where it was a job requirement to schmooze at such events inside and outside of the gallery. I did get caught up in it all for a little while but I must say I prefer things a little more low key now.
There were a number of faces I recognised from those days whilst enjoying Ted's work on Saturday, and a number of them recognised me. One comment I loved was made by someone who did not recognise me at first glance and when his partner pointed me out he made a remark that suggested one of the reasons he did not recognise me was because I was not dressed as dashingly as I was when in that position. He did not quite know how to word it, possibly worried his words might be taken in offence, but I understood what he meant and I certainly did not see it as a criticism. In fact I felt more comfortable in my trusty cargo pants and plain black t-shirt than I would have in my white tuxedo.
This is not to say I don't like to get dressed up on occasion, but it is for different reasons now. When it comes to these sort of events, I am happy to dress down and blend in. I don't want to stand out. Art events are about the art on the walls, not a fashion show - and when it comes to my exhibition, I'd rather people notice my work than me or what I am wearing.
I have just questioned my subconscious - for perhaps this is the reason I am not wearing anything in my paintings. It's not about exhibitionism... it's more about a no frills type of rawness.
It makes sense to me anyway...
Finally I have finished the next piece in the new series. I feel exhausted after hunching over my canvas for the past few days and squinting whilst doing all the fine brushwork.
I am feeling happy about my work though so it makes this exhausted feeling worth it.
It is nearly time for a shift carrying plates... how fitting - this piece says it all.
This current body of work is possibly the most personal and intimate that I have ever produced. So personal that I feel it will be somewhat of a risk to show it - or should I say exhibit it in a commercial gallery sense.
All works thus far in this series are self portraits - a subject I have had numerous debates about regarding mine and others. I am an artist who will happily promote this subject, and when needed, defend it... and my reasons are not as egotistic as some may think. Having said that, I don't know an artist without an ego - then again, I don't know many people, artists or not, who do not possess at least something that resembles one. It's not a dirty word.
This body of work is also the most articulate work I have done for a long time. I feel like I have been working on this current piece forever. I have spent the past few days working on it and I still feel like I have so much more to do before it is complete.
It will be interesting to see how this work is perceived. I could worry about what others will think of the work and whether they will understand my reasons for painting this series but I am choosing not to. For far too long I have let things like this worry me far too much.
Worry less - Paint more.
It's always such gratifying feeling to complete a piece AND be happily satisfied with it.
My new work is really making so much sense to me. I feel I am beginning to make up for lost time. For the first time in ages I feel so connected to, involved in, and excited by the work I am doing and it's a fucking great feeling.
Due to poor light...
Being in the hospitality industry, as I am at present, I work most nights, therefore it is quite rare for me to have the opportunity to paint at night, such as tonight. This being the case I have never really worried too much about lighting in the house/studio as not only do I prefer to paint in natural light, but it, (daytime), was really the only time I had the opportunity to paint.
Now that I am spending less time carrying plates and more time pushing paint I am going to have to look into purchasing some kind of artificial lighting - perhaps some that simulates natural light - to allow me to paint well into the coming evenings.
My eyes began to feel rather strained tonight so I had to stop. I feel a little anxious about stopping tonight as the piece I have worked on meticulously all day, (and not just today), is finally so close to completion.
My partner has watched me painting this piece (and a sister piece) for the past week or so and made a comment earlier today about the hours upon hours that can be spent on each piece without any real evidence of progress to the average eye. He is so right. However, finally, late this afternoon - the progress became visible.
I am finally feeling excited about and interested in my work again after a long lull. It's a good feeling.
Food and desire...
The battle between necessity and passion – one feeding the other and the frustration along the way. Where would I rather be? What would I rather be doing. Exploring the idea or notion… fighting to create… the painting waitress – the waitress who paints – the painter who waits…. Waits to create… waits to paint.
Exploring my world… the means in which I need to meet to paint… as well as the NEED to paint. Waitressing to support my art. Also exploring the mysteries or other persona of the waitress… such a personal yet non attached job… an intimate yet generic job or role. Serving an audience. What does a waitress do when she is not waiting? More than just a waitress… the notion that she could be anyone or anything outside of her waiting job. Many musicians, actresses and artists have done it. Often it’s a way to make ends meet whilst waiting for a break or recognition or respect in their chosen field of the arts…. Waiting to be noticed? People have no idea of what else you can do other than carry multiple plates and pour champagne with one hand behind our back and a smile on our face… “she’s just a waitress” – oh no she is not – she is so much more…. Wanting to sometimes scream out loud… to paint the walls…. The disrespect from some… the demands to be ‘served’…. We offer a service but not our dignity. What makes you better than me? Then there’s the tippers…. Most are genuine – a few are sometimes patronising… ‘here – take my money, I have too much and you look like you could use some, after all, you’re just a waitress.’ There is a certain mystery to waitresses and waiters… its like role play… we ARE actors… we are not always happy to see the customer – sometimes we’d rather be doing something else…. I know most of the time I’d rather be painting, though there is somewhat of a fondness for the job, the people and for the role play – I guess ultimately I could be who ever I want to be, what would anyone know?… but all I want to be is an artist…. I AM an artist. An artist who waits.
There is also the personal and sensual element to food and taste… the quality, presentation and service can contribute to making someone’s night, or day, special… memorable…
Some remember you some forget…. the same goes the other way. Some want to know more about you, others pretend they already know and some couldn’t even remember which one of us took the drink order. Some are understanding some just demanding… some want all your attention some want hardly any… you learn a lot about people… but what do people learn about the waitress?
A battle of wills
A conflict of interest.
A slave to the wage.
It takes two
Waiting to paint
Plate or palette
Serve it up
My heart on a plate (I wear my heart on my plate/palette)
Serving up my soul
Dish
Culinary studio
Culinary culture
Taking orders
Passive aggressive
Versus
Me and myself versus I
Pushing to paint
What’s on the plate
Carving up the canvas
A recipe for dreaming
Place your order (here)
First course / Entrée
Main course
Just desserts
Time waits for noone
I am struggling with the heat today.
Sometimes I find I have more energy on hot days - but today I am finding the heat oppressive. It is affecting my work and my time in the studio. It is battling with my creative productivity and it is winning today. As I tried to stitch into my canvas I felt like my hands were melting.
I sat on the couch to eat lunch and ended up falling asleep. When I awoke it took me some time to drag myself off the couch and back into the studio. I attempted again to work on a canvas but found myself back on the couch.
I don't even think it is actually that hot today, but for some reason I am feeling it to its full intensity and it is causing me to feel incredibly lethargic. Admittedly I have not had a great nights sleep in some time, and I have never professed to being a Summer or hot weather person but this feels somewhat extreme for me... and apparently the coming week is going to be even warmer.
It's a waste of time feeling like this. I am going to go to Bunnings and buy a fan tomorrow.
I picked up my twelve custom made canvases yesterday and whilst I was at my suppliers, ordered a couple of larger ones.
It is always as daunting as it is exciting when I get new canvas to paint and create on. After all these years I am still somewhat intimidated by the blank surface - pristine and white - daring me to make a mark... MY mark.
My head has been spinning a little in the studio today. I am jumping from one piece to another, whilst contemplating a brand new one. I feel a great lack of discipline today but also a resurgence of inspiration and motivation - so it's not all bad.
I was just about to head off to bed when I saw a story on the late news.
I cannot even begin to write about how happy this story has made me and has given back a little of the faith I seem to be rapidly losing in and for the Australian art world.
I have admired the work of Del Kathryn Barton for a few years now and whilst I am not a big fan of, or advocate for, art awards - despite having helped to create one during my time in arts management - I was pleased to hear of this result.
I will sleep easier tonight.
I did not paint or draw at all today - but I did have the best birthday ever. It was definitely one to remember.
Thank you C.
When I returned from Japan I was, surprisingly enough, struggling to find artistic inspiration. I came home with a head full of emotions rather than a head full of ideas. I found myself wanting so desperately to paint but not really knowing what I was doing or wanted to do... to the point where the work I did do became formulated. Rather than daring to throw some new methods or ideas around or onto canvas, I stuck with what felt safe and began producing a few pieces that saw me happy to be painting again but failed to inspire or motivate me enough to even finish them. As a result, they have sat in my studio for months, just waiting for some attention.
I believe my most recent experience in Japan was so very different to previous ones that it has ultimately had a huge effect on my art. I used to always get asked how long I thought I would 'stick to this Japanese theme'. I never had an answer. I didn't think it was a question that could be answered. You cannot just decide when a particular subject or theme will cease to inspire you. You ride the waves of inspiration for as long as you can. I now feel like that wave I was riding has crashed to shore and I have had to swim out to sea to catch a new one. The good thing is... I feel like I am surfing again.
I sat staring at two of these half finished works today, preparing to farewell them. I love a good 'paint-out'. It's somewhat liberating. It's time for a new artistic relationship.
This is not to say that I will not revisit previous themes, I am almost certain I will, and there will no doubt be repeated motifs or designs that are carried over into the new body of work. It's just time to step outside the square.
A couple of years ago, a good friend of mine leant me a book he thought I would enjoy. The book was In Praise of Slow by Carl Honoré. It made a lot of sense...
Are you always in a hurry?
Does life feel like a never-ending race against the clock?
These days, many of us live in fast forward and pay a heavy price for it. Our work, health and relationships suffer. Over-stimulated, over-scheduled and overwrought, we struggle to relax, to enjoy things properly, to spend time with family and friends. The Slow movement offers a lifeline. It is not a Luddite plot to abolish all things modern. You don't have to shun technology, live in the wilderness or do everything at a snails pace. Being Slow means living better in the hectic modern world by striking a balance between fast and slow. In Praise of Slow is the first handbook for the emerging Slow movement. Through a blend of anecdote, reportage, first-hand experience, history and intellectual inquiry, it explains how the world got so fast and why slowing down can pay dividends in every walk of life. To illustrate the benefits of deceleration, the book travels from a Tantric sex workshop in London to a meditation room for executives in Tokyo, from a Chi Kung squash class in Edinburgh to a SuperSlow exercise studio in New York City, from a TV-free household in Toronto to Italy, the home of Slow Food, Slow Cities and Slow Sex movements. Wherever you go, whatever you do, the message is the same: slower is often better. - Carl Honoré.
I am currently trying to apply the art of Slow to my work - my art, but am filled with such an abundance of inspiration right now that I just want to finish everything in a hurry. I'm jumping from one painting to the next, each one giving birth to new ideas that I don't want to wait to explore.
Perhaps I need to read the book again.
There are times where I don't think, I just paint. The work just evolves as I go. There have been pieces I have planned from start to finish but sometimes I find this process restrictive.
Usually, initially, there is an image or idea in mind but often the finished piece ends up looking different to what I had first imagined. This is one of the reasons I like working with layering. Often each new layer, be it paint, collage or stitching, will inspire or determine what happens next. Many things seem to be done subconsciously, and for me, this keeps things interesting and exciting.
This was drawn to my attention last night whilst sitting at the bar at work when I was asked about my art. I don't make a habit of talking too much about my art, I'd rather just paint. For me art is a very personal thing - yet on the flipside, I do enjoy being able to share it with others. I don't however, have the expectation that others should see in my work the same things I see; regardless of what each piece means to me, or what the story is behind the work, I am happy to leave my art open to interpretation. Often when I do discuss my work with people who have seen it I actually learn something about it myself. Some conversations have been revelations for me as people have pointed out things that I was perhaps not consciously aware of but the fact that they were created subconsciously makes complete sense. I sometimes also find that it is not until I am prompted or 'forced' to discuss certain works that they, or the ideas, actually become more evident to me.
Let 2008 really begin.
The year of the rat is now upon us - farewell year of the pig or the pig of a year. My year was not bad, just a little mad.
It was a strange start to this new year and I am feeling a little out of sorts due to taking some medication that my body is finding foriegn. I don't like taking tablets at the best of times. With most negatives come a positive however and today was no exception so it is with open arms I now welcome this new year: the year of the rat... and it is only now, as I type, that I realise an anagram of rat is art.
The year of ART.
It has been a tiring season in the hospitality industry. As the peak of the 'Summer' season comes to a close and the tourists start to wane, people find themselves running out of money, many head back to work and kids go back to school, I am beginning to find more time for me and ultimately for my art.
I have not felt much like 'me' lately but it is now time to focus on my 'artist' self.
It has been an interesting time focusing more on a different 'job', however it has been necessary for me to get myself back into a comfortable position and out of debt in order to get back into the more important things and ultimately back to being 'me'.
It has been an anxious time and there have been moments where I found the whole experience rather negative but recently I decided to use this as motivation for my art and turn it into a positive. I foresee my next body of work having a lot to do with my recent time in the hospitality industry as the 'painting waitress'. My partner, who is a chef, has helped me to see the more creative, artistic and sensual side to food - this has also been somewhat inspiring.
I still have a strong fascination with Japan and believe its influence will feature heavily again in my work, however, perhaps for the time being I shall focus on inspirations closer to home. I have recently opened up my eyes to just how much (inspiration) is right in front of me. The grass often looks greener on the other side... yet at the same time, as cliché as it may sound - there is nothing quite like the green, green grass of home.
I attended a yoga class today. My first in a few years. It felt so good to do it again - properly. It felt good to do something for myself. I have been meaning to 'get back into it' for a long time now and today I realised just how much I have missed it.
I often talk or write about 'symbolism'... the Oxford online dictionary sums it up as follows:
Symbolism:
n.
1. The practice of representing things by means of symbols or of attributing symbolic meanings or significance to objects, events, or relationships.
2. A system of symbols or representations.
3. A symbolic meaning or representation.
4. Revelation or suggestion of intangible conditions or truths by artistic invention.
5. Symbolism - The movement, theory, or practice of the late 19th-century Symbolists.
I like number 1 - number 4 is probably my favourite though.
At the beginning of the class this morning, the teacher laid out a whole lot of affirmation/meditation cards face down and asked everyone to come and pick one up and read it. I was the last one in the class to pick up a card but I don't think I could have picked a more appropriate one. The cards were from a set by Brahma Kumaris and the one I picked up was Creativity. Although I cannot remember the card word for word right now - it seemed so very appropriate for me today as my return to yoga is part of my ongoing effort to get myself more motivated and creatively productive.
I came home and painted for the first time in months. I painted all afternoon and into the evening. It felt so right.
Today is the 23rd January. It's a special date for me personally - for the second time.
How things can make so much more sense in time.
I am feeling extremely tired but am forcing myself to write an entry tonight - even if it ends up being about nothing. I am struggling to get back into my writing or anything creative at the moment, although I think today may have been a turning point. Something has been brewing in my creative sector that has been put on hold for far too long now. The desire has never faded; it’s the motivation that I have lacked. Three complete strangers helped me find it again today.
I was at the gym this morning - something that I am doing to help myself both physically and mentally, and something that seems to be working and helping me manage my emotional self. Having been prone to bouts of depression since my early teens, I have always needed a vice to help me deal with my own emotional state. Some vices have been good, others more detrimental, but regardless, I have always relied on something, and occasionally, mistake or not, someone.
Since entering my 30's I have always tried to make that someone ME, however there have been times I have failed myself.
Clinical depression has affected most members of my direct family and we have all coped in different ways. A couple of years ago I was seeing a fantastic, and far from conventional, psychologist who helped me to realise that despite being diagnosed on more than one occasion with clinical depression and taking numerous amounts of medication at different points in my life, a lot of mine was reactional. Once I accepted this I felt quite empowered and after many emotional battles with myself I worked out ways to help myself. My tiredness and physical exhaustion has not helped my emotional state lately. My partner is going through some rather trying times at the moment and like most people, I seem to have taken on board the stress, and its effects, of the one I love and am closet to. It's a hard thing to take a step back sometimes, even when a step back is probably the right or best thing to do. Often during times like this, one can put so much time and energy into another’s, or everybody else’s, life and dilemmas that one forgets to save anything for oneself. I have done this recently and chosen to acknowledge it only now. It has all been with good intention but it probably needs to stop about now. My partner and I both agree that I have neglected myself and the thing that is most important to me - my art.
By giving back to ME I will actually be benefiting more people than just myself. I will be able to stand at the top of the well and throw down a rope rather than climb on in and join the one down there.
Getting back to the gym and the three women that pulled me out of my well today. Lack of sleep, being overworked, an irregular diet and unnecessary emotional stress took its toll on me today whilst in a cycle class. The class had only just started and I could not find a rapport with my bike or get comfortable - possibly one of the most insignificant things, yet it was enough to make me crack. I left the class and went to the change room and burst into tears. (Whether it is a good thing or not, and whether people understand it or not, I often use crying as a form of release rather than bottling things up or carrying them around.) I was so involved in my own situation that I didn't even think about anyone else being aware of me - in a public change room! Suddenly I felt a hand on my left shoulder..then a hand on my right. An older and calm voice asked if I was alright. I looked up to see two middle-aged ladies with a look of understanding more so than concern. A third and older lady approached shortly after. The three of them didn't seem know each other well, nor did they know me from a bar of soap but at the risk of sounding like a feminist - something wonderful happened in that room and reminded me of the benefits of relationships and communication between a woman and other women - whether they be brief or intense, whether they are a one off or a lifetime association. With no disrespect to men, as most of my closest friends are male, there are just some things that only a woman can understand about another woman. Perhaps the same could be said about men. We are genetically different after all.
Without knowing anything about me, or even why I was crying, they managed to say the right things - even when I wasn't wanting anything to be said. Within minutes the four of us were laughing in unison. One even embraced me. I enjoyed the moment and returned to the gym feeling more motivated than I had in a long time. Thank you ladies.
I left the gym with my motivation and it has followed me around all day. I decided to keep it and brought it home with me tonight. Whilst sitting on the couch with it I came up with an idea for my next body of work.
Perhaps today has been more productive than I had thought.
It won't be long now...
I caught up with a very dear and long time friend who was visiting from Singapore yesterday. We met at Melbourne School of Art when I was 17. In fact, my teacher/lecturer actually made a point of introducing us.
I have always seen S as a wise soul and yesterday we discussed many things in our too brief catch up. One of them was the chaotic aspect of the year just gone and the beginning of this one. On both a personal and universal scale. He did mention to me that it will not be until the Chinese new year begins that things fall into place or get back to where they should be. Many things we talked about made sense to me and helped me see things clearer than I have for some time now.
The year of the Rat is almost upon us.
I have spent most of today listening to music... and not much else. I feel extremely tired, physically and emotionally. My music is affecting me in a way it hasn't for a while now, I have not had time to let it. It's such a powerful medium. It's drawing everything out of me today. At this very moment I am listening to Alanis Morissette sing So Unsexy. I can totally relate to the lyrics of this song right now. I've missed my music. And whilst not everything it is drawing out of me today is pleasant, it (music) is a welcome return to my life.
It is the fifth day of 2008... but when does this 'new' year really begin?
Another year is almost over.
Where do I begin this entry?
Well.... finally I have my own laptop. I bought myself a Mac Book on Thursday evening and have spent all my spare time over the past few days uploading all my music onto iTunes. I have missed music featuring heavily in my life of late. I finally feel like I am starting to get my life a little organised again after being back for over 6 months now! It has been a slow process and an eventful year. 33 has not been anything like what I had imagined - but what age or year ever really is?
I have felt a little more robotic than human recently. Art, or at least my production of it, has taken a back seat in my life, which has been challenging. It is forever in my heart and on my mind but this year took a strange twist and I found myself returning from Japan in June with financial debt and a mixed bag of emotions. The mixed bag, despite leaving a relationship as well as the country, was partly just one I carry around at the best of times but the financial bit I had to do something about.
I returned to the hospitality industry shortly after my homecoming in order to get things 'sorted'. It's a fickle industry, a strange place for an artist at times, but oddly enough - I have a love for it.
The painting waitress. The waitress who paints...the painter who waits... and I have been waiting.... waiting for the inspiration to come sweep me off my artistic feet again - but it has remained hidden for most of this latter half of 2007. It has been a time for putting other things first, which at times has been very difficult and has had quite an emotional effect on me. Still, I have worked hard to get back to some sense of normality or should I say stability... never without at least a little bit of artist's chaos. The festive season has been an exceptionally busy time for the 'painter who waits', and with Summer comes the tourists and long, long hours. At times it is a bit of a catch 22 but I know part of this is temporary so I do not let it concern me too greatly.
I have been burning the candle at both ends a little lately and my body and mind are certainly feeling it. My art is suffering from it but I do believe in the long run my art will benefit from this - it has just been somewhat hard to see that until now.
I have a strong desire to re-read 'Skinny Legs And All' and once again bond with the character of Ellen Cherry Charles.
I also have a strong desire to begin my new body of work. Fresh ideas have been few and far between since I returned home but I can finally feel something brewing.
In my semi-robotic schedule of late I have neglected, (not always through choice or lack of want), my 3 main personal passions: art, music and words - (reading and writing them). C bought me an iPod nano for Christmas... Despite being a mad music lover this is my first mp3 player. It has probably come just in time as my CD collection was beginning to take up too much space. I have now synced it with my iTunes and feel delighted that music will be more accessible to me no matter where I am and can once again feature heavily in my life. My dear C also bought me Jeanette Winterson's latest book; The Stone Gods. I am looking forward to reading it. I have also really missed writing. It has been so long that I am actually struggling to string words together for this entry. It's not that I have nothing to say or write, I just feel out of practice when it comes to the delivery.
I received a letter from one of my dearest friends just before Christmas. She knew I had been struggling with the art thing and she wrote: "And of art...what becomes of Simone when she isn't painting? My guess is that she does a lot of writing and/or reading. Have you had much time for working lately? I suppose the artist is 'working' every day, even when brush doesn't hit canvas, because of the inspiration the subject's life gives rise to every day. Kind of like the cook simmering the stew. Whatever the case, I look forward to your 2008 exhibition...I assume there will be one." It was a typed letter, made on the computer, printed in a rather small (10pt?) and elegant font, consisting of two pages - the second not quite a full page - yet with these words, it hit home just how 'robotic' and passionless my regime has been recently. Her words reminded me of the simple things that bring me much joy, and how I have not been making time for them. Time for me.
Speaking of which... C and I joined a gym a couple of weeks ago. A first for me and something I thought I'd never do. I believe it was a good decision though. It has inspired in me a motivation that I had been lacking, a motivation to do something for myself and to do something that makes me feel better about myself - and the bonus of feeling fitter and healthier is more than welcome. Between a hectic hospitality schedule and getting a persistent cold for Christmas I have only managed to get to the gym 3 times since joining. There's a new years resolution just bursting to be made!
So what of 2007? The year that is nearly over.
Although there are many aspects of this past year that I would happily forget, I know I will want to remember much about 2007 in years to come. Hence wanting to catch up a little on the blogging side of things so as not to let the most part of 6 months slip through the files of life with little to know record or recognition.... It has been an important year - and years to come will show perhaps just how important it was.
It has been over 3 months since I wrote in this blog. A whole season has passed. (And I am STILL cleansing!).
I shall not write too much tonight in this gin infused state but will make enough of a mark to say I have blogged...
I will say though that it was extremely refreshing to be able to pay a visit to my Melbourne gallery the week before last and spend the best part of 3 hours enjoying the company and conversation from the owner/directors and to leave there feeling inspired and supported. This has been a weird time, these past 3 months, as art has not featured heavily in my life during this period and it has felt foreign... even a little depressing at times. Part of it has been a conscious decision, the break that is, another part of it was beyond my control. i have felt a little detatched from myself - at least my artist self, which is basically my whole self.
I have until April to rectify this!
I started my biggest Spring clean(se) ever and it felt GOOD. Liberating even.
I have been a little all over the place since returning from Japan. I had initially planned on spending 12 months over there but ended up spending 4, which felt like 12. I've felt a little detached at times, kind of like I am not really meant to be here because I had planned to be over there - however, I am truly glad to be back, despite not having felt settled yet.
I picked up the last of my things from my parents house on Tuesday evening. I had forgotten just how much 'stuff' I had accumulated over the years and just how much I was still holding onto, much of it unnecessarily so.
On Wednesday I decided it was time to let go of a lot of a lot of those things. I think I had taken for granted that I could use part of their house as a storage facility for my 'stuff' as well as an occasional haven, despite always appreciating it as a kind of 'home'. C reminded me, on the same day, that home is where the heart is and I believe my heart is in a good place.
I have always prided myself on not being a very materialistic person, with a real 'need' or desire for only my art, books and music. I try to travel light and each time I move, I downsize. I have memories that I will always hold onto but I have no real need for a lot of material things or much of the 'stuff' that was being stored under the stairs - they can weigh one down. And I must say, since beginning my clean(se) I do feel lighter and happier...even more in control.
It really did amaze me just how much I had been holding onto and watching the fire in the back yard engulf items no longer needed was a fulfilling spectacle...boxes and boxes of stuff turned into ashes. Watching the fire was actually quite mesmerising and I became more and more frivolous with what I threw into it, and with the frivolity came a greater sense of independence, which is perhaps something i have lacked of late. Perhaps I have been asleep in my waking life for too long.
I feel like my 'artistic block', (pardon the expression), of late is only an extension of a deeper blockage within me and I feel this Spring cleanse is the start of unblocking more than just my creativity.
I've had to leave the house to write this. If I'd stayed at home, my paintings would've sent me on a guilt trip had I neglected them for pen and paper, (or laptop)...and whilst I 'should' be dedicating this time to the canvas, it is such a beautiful 'almost Spring day' that I felt it would be unfair on me and on my art to let it pass without some sort of acknowledgement and perhaps a little basking. Besides, it has been such a long time since I have written in this way that I have been having withdrawals.
I did spend some time with a canvas this morning and promised it that I'd be back a little later to give it some more attention. Right now, this glorious day, and a mind full of thoughts, has mine.
I'm sitting with a glass of Pinot (noir)- a comfort for writing? It's been so long since I have sat alone with my thoughts like this in public that I almost need the glass to feel at ease in doing what I am doing... which only reconfirms my need to do it (write) more often... as I do not want it to ever feel awkward, forced or unnatural.
I've not had as much time to paint recently as I would ultimately like...although I perhaps have not been as productive as I could have (or should've) been in the time that I have had. I certainly do not believe it is laziness that has caused this though. I have felt very tired lately - physically and emotionally - and although it is no excuse, I am hoping that spring breathes rejuvenation into my productive and creative sector. The desire never fades; it just proves harder to pursue it at certain times.
Despite feeling very non-productive, I have still been producing work, the most recent being a commission for a work colleague - the painting being of and for his partner.
I don't often accept commissions but this request came at a time when I actually needed a little push to get me out of my productive 'lull'. It was also somewhat of a challenge, as it was my first piece/portrait of a 'non-Asian' model, (apart from self portraits), in my current and desired medium, other than myself, so it encouraged me to step outside of something that 'subconsciously' may have become a bit of a comfort zone.
Whilst working on the piece I actually had a number of new and fresh ideas that have now fuelled my excitement for what I do...and could do.
The most rewarding part of the whole experience was the reaction of the subject herself. I was thanked in a very emotional, teary and heartfelt way. Commissions, (for me), are/feel very different to my other work, but the one consistent thing I do with every piece that I produce is incorporate a big part of 'me'...including heart and soul. There is a passion that I pour into each piece and to have that passion acknowledged is always a wonderful delight, but in the case of a commission, it is not only a delight, but somewhat of a relief!
(For me), When I am painting a commission, I feel like someone is constantly watching over my shoulder with critical eyes, querying my choice of colour, composition, expression... Perhaps it is my own insecurities as an artist that creates, or allows, these feelings. Perhaps this applies not only in my art, but in my life. Either way, I feel it is a very different experience when I am working on a commission because ultimately, or at least 'in a sense', I am painting for someone else, whereas with my other work, I paint for me.
So it seems the dynamics have changed at my Melbourne gallery...which hopefully proves to be for the better. I believe it will be. It will be nice to have a rapport with the place again and not be at a point where communication, (or lack thereof), just becomes an unnecessary frustration.
It continues to amaze me, just how 'wrong' artist/gallery relationships can go, when ultimately, it should be simple...or at the very least pleasant...civil.
Like all relationships in life, both parties need to give a little, take a little, in order to 'hopefully' attain some sort of harmony.
BALANCE! Seems I am forever striving for it.
Having had some concerns regarding my Melbourne gallery in recent times, I was informed this past week, that there has been some major changes at the gallery concerned. I am hoping it's a change for the better as I was extremely close to pulling out of their so called 'stable' - forfeiting any representation in Melbourne, other than my own.
Despite having maintained a 5+ year relationship with the gallery, the past 12 months have felt more like something I have endured rather than enjoyed... like some sort of art induced coma I have been falling in and out of.
As I am writing, the owner of the gallery has just called me. We have scheduled a meeting for next Friday.
I look forward to possibly resolving 'something'.
I spent the majority of yesterday afternoon applying paint to canvas and it felt wonderful.
I have been back in Australia for just over a month. In many ways, it feels like a lot longer. I have felt very unsettled which has unfortunately had an adverse effect on my artistic productiveness.
Today, however, I went to the house I was living in before moving to Japan to pick up some of my possessions.
Every time I move house I have a tendency to cull my possessions in the attempt to reduce them to one car load. It almost worked today with my canvases being the only things of mine that did not fit in the back of the Land Rover. I will need one more trip. What I did collect today were all my books and music - years of inspiration and two of the things that are most important to me as an artist and in general. I feel more settled and comfortable having them easily accessible.
Of course there are also a few things that I have conveniently stored at my parents house, (some for months, some for years), that I will have to either now accommodate or dispose of as they are moving themselves.
I'm not a very materialistic person - at least I don't believe I am - but what is important to me is my art... my music and my books/literature. The three go hand in hand for me.
The written word has inspired me in life and art for as long as I can remember, so it will be nice to once again take the likes of Anais Nin, Sylvia Plath or Pablo Neruda to bed with me.
I’m sitting in a lounge room, looking out of the window at regular intervals, watching three Noisy Mynah birds. One just tried to land on a long stem of a flower and in doing so, its weight pulled the flower down and the Mynah found itself lying on its back with its feet still wrapped around the stem. It brought a smile to my face and had I not looked up at that moment, I would’ve missed it.
I have the heater on this morning, and yesterday I set up an area in which to paint and even started working on a new piece. It felt good.
I don’t have my own laptop at the moment which is one of the reasons I have not been writing as much as I’d like to. However, I find when I do have access to one I have so much to organize ‘online’ that I often run out of blogging time. It is a sad thing to think that so much of my life’s ‘organisation’ has come to depend on the internet. Some days, having it is a blessing, other days a curse….but unfortunately it seems to be the way of the modern world these days – even for artists.
I still have so much to do in the way of correspondence, a lot of which I have not yet caught up with since returning home. I had hoped to get to Perth this weekend for an exhibition I am taking part in but it is just not feasible right now. I need this time to catch up.
It’s a catch 22. The things I need to do on here all relate to my art and the 'promotion' of it, so it has to be done, but all I really want to do is paint.
Sitting at an old computer, that used to be mine, it is incredibly slow, and a reminder of how things have changed. I am at my parents house, alone. It is cold but full of warm memories. Memories almost as far back as I can remember.
I remember moving here...and moving out, then back for a while, and out again.
I spent a lot of time drawing and making art here and developed much of my artistic style in this house. I remember as a very young girl, sitting at my fathers feet and drawing pictures of his face in black biro.
This house has kept part of me a child for many years. It is womb-like for me and has provided great comfort on numerous occasions.
It is only fitting with everything else that has been changing and evolving around me lately that this chapter comes to an end at this time.
With every end comes a new beginning...and so on...and such is life.
I just got a call from my mother. Their, (my parents), house has just sold. The house I spent the majority of my childhood in. The house I went back to when I needed comfort, when nowhere else, with my semi gypsy-like lifestyle, felt like home.
Nowhere has really felt like home for a while and at the moment, I am living out of a suitcase. I am ok with this, for the time being, although I am looking forward to creating a new place to paint...a space to make art.
I have experienced six seasons in the past 4 months. I guess it's no wonder I returned to Winter in Melbourne, (after an 8 hour stopover in humid Cairns), with a cold on Monday afternoon.
Nothing much has changed here, and in many ways, that's comforting, though in others, it just causes my feet to itch again.
I am happy to be home though. There is much to be done.
I have not painted since returning home and after 5 days of readjustment and reuniting I am eager to start. I need to paint.
Today, it was Osaka that I said farewell to. A very different feeling to yesterday’s intimacy with Kyoto. Osaka is an eye sore in comparison but does possess some of its own unique charm. It is these random charming qualities that I will miss once I return home to Australia, and in reflection on my time here.
I will not miss holding my breath as I get stuck behind a flock of smokers walking slowly down the mall, or at the lights, or in a bar or restaurant. I am a stereotypical ex-smoker...and Japan is a very pro-smoking society. I struggled a lot with this. I won't miss dodging numerous puddles of phlegm coughed up on the pavement as I walk to the shop or the station, nor will I miss the sound of them being expelled. I will not miss the hostile stares and random verbal abuse I received from various characters in the area I was living. I will not miss the air in Osaka, or my dimly lit apartment.
There are many things I will not miss, but even with its more negative qualities, Japan has continued to inspire me, sometimes even without me realising it. I know I will wish to return.
The list of things I will miss however is possibly greater. Japan does possess much beauty and continues to intrigue me. The experience was quite a humbling one and one I am grateful to have had.
I said my farewell to Kyoto today.
I love that place. I hope to return to it again some day, if not, I know it will always influence me as an artist in some way...and I am grateful that I have been able to visit it on numerous occasions during the past four years.
This time tomorrow, I am due to be in the air, flying through the night sky, on my way...home.
Going a thousand miles an hour.
Such is my mind right now. Racing.
This is my second last night in Osaka, (this trip), before flying out of Japan on Sunday night. I feel quite emotional at the moment - about leaving Japan and about going home. My heart and mind feel a little at tug-o-war right now.
My grandfather had a heart attack on Friday. He is 85 and frail. I want to get home to see him again. There are also many other reasons and things that are calling me homeward.
I took myself out of the grey and into the green today, with a visit to Mino. It was so pleasant being amongst an abundance of nature.
I have had a rather tumultuous relationship with Japan this time around, however, I feel it is a relationship I will never really leave. This place, despite it's many frustrating (for me) aspects, still has a lot to offer and the ability, I believe, to keep me interested for a very long time. Sounds like the perfect love affair.
Today was a brief reminder of the many endearing and inspiring qualities this place possesses, and a reminder of why I keep coming back to Japan. I will miss it when I leave.
A cockroach just crawled across the tatami floor of the apartment. A reminder of a contrary nature. And a sign that Summer is upon us. Perhaps I am leaving at a good time.
Tomorrow I plan to say farewell, for the time being, to Kyoto.
Emotions are running quite high at the moment.
This has been quite a journey.
I returned from Tokyo on the Shinkansen on Monday evening after spending 4 days in Japan's biggest city. Tokyo makes Osaka look tiny, even though it is not. It was quite overwhelming yet I had an enjoyable time there.
Design Festa was really not much to speak of, and despite there being a couple of artists whose work interested me, I was not really impressed with the event itself.
An exhibition that was most impressive however, was one I saw at the Ueno Royal Museum, which featured the works of two contemporary Japanese artists - Makoto Aida and Akira Yamaguchi. I went to see this exhibition on the suggestion made to me by fellow Australian artist living in Japan, Marcel Cousins, and I was not disappointed. Although I was not awestruck by every piece on show, I was most impressed with the exhibition as a whole. Many of the works, by both artists, possessed such fine detail and a number of the larger scale works by Makoto Aida had me captured in front of the canvas for long periods.
Whilst in Tokyo, the work of South African born artist, Marlene Dumas, was brought to my attention. Though I admit to knowing nothing about this artist prior to my visit to Tokyo, I have since looked into her work and career with the help of the World Wide Web and find myself rather intrigued.
I spent my last day in Tokyo on my own, exploring Asakusa and enjoying a bit of the more 'traditional Japan'...and remembering how rewarding travelling alone can be.
Overall, the trip to Tokyo was an inspiring one. And I must say, those Harajuku girls are something else.
I am due to fly home to Melbourne next week and although I will miss Japan, I am looking forward to creating a fresh new space in which to paint.
One exhibition that I really enjoyed was Masterpieces from Musee Guimet at the Osaka Municipal Museum of Art in Tennoji. My friend Chika took me along to see it last Saturday.
The exhibition showcased a large selection of ukiyo-e masterpieces, (woodblock prints from the Edo period in Japan), from the collection of the Musee Guimet in Paris. It featured 190 works and included artists such as Toshusai Sharaku, Utagawa Hiroshige, Suzuki Harunobu, and one of my favourite artists, Hokusai Katsushika, who was a big part of my initial fascination with Japanese art and culture. His work, and the work of other Edo artists, actually influenced a number of my early paintings.
Seeing the original works of Hokusai and many others from the Edo period was quite mind blowing, considering some of the works dated back to the 1700's.
The exhibition was possibly the most crowded one I have ever been to, but despite having to battle with the hoards of people to get a good look at each piece, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing these finely detailed and most impressive works in the flesh.
The rain falls continuously in Osaka as I prepare to travel to Tokyo.
Such is Osaka at night.
Tomorrow, however, I am visiting a bigger, brighter city. I am planning on riding the shinkansen to Tokyo and despite my recent craving for nature and wilderness, I am actually looking forward to seeing what this massive city of neon has to offer. I'm also hoping to explore a few galleries whilst I am there, as well as visiting Design Festa.
I have been to a few galleries/art spaces here in Osaka over this past week, some of the spaces have been quite impressive, yet I still feel this city lacks some sort of vibe when it comes to art. That's not to say that Osaka hasn't produced any talent, for there is plenty of that, I just feel it lacks an avenue to really encourage and promote it to its full potential. It's no wonder so many local artists relocate to Tokyo or even abroad.
I borrowed J's new bike today and whilst out riding, I came across this sign. I slowed right down as I passed it and laughed out loud. There were only a few people around and I am not sure whether they even noticed my amusement, or what had caused it, but I do live in an area where many people mutter to themsleves and randomly laugh out loud so I doubt my outburst was anything unusual. Perhaps the fact that I was a gaijin was the only thing a little different from normal - though I think it would be quite understandable that any gaijin who lived in this particular area of Osaka for too long might just go a little, let's say, loopy - for want of a better word....and meant in the nicest way possible.
I did not have the camera with me at the time, so I had to ride back there to capture the image in digital form. Whilst doing so, a few locals walked past and seemed a little confused as to why I was taking this particular shot. If only they knew... mind you, it's probably better that they don't or didn't.
I, however, found it worthy of a photo and even a place in my blog. It made me smile, and I see a lot of things in this area that don't so I appreciated this random lighthearted moment.
I think perhaps Henry Miller would have found it amusing too.
I finished my two pieces for the SQUARED exhibition today and sent them off to Greenhill Galleries in Perth. The language barrier always poses a bit of a challenge at the post office here, however, the staff are always friendly and patient... at least whilst I am in the post office...
From what I could understand, of what the lady was trying to explain to me, standard air mail postage is more expensive than EPS express air mail postage. Odd. Why would one choose to pay more for a delivery service that takes longer?
It's a mystery to me.
Japan is full of such little mysteries and curiosities. I will miss many random things about this place.
Every day I see something that makes me want to go home, and I 'll also see something that makes me want to stay. Japan is funny that way, and I think it just might always have some sort of hold on me.
Yesterday J and I went to Kyoto, one of my favourite places in the world...thus far.
I always manage to get a boost of inspiration when I visit that place and yesterday was no exception.
Whilst meandering through Gion, we stumbled upon a small theatre with a number of people lined up for an event that looked as though it would be starting soon. We then saw a poster advertising the Geisha dances of Spring. How fortunate, we thought, and decided to enquire if there were any tickets still available for this performance. There were, up the back of course, but the theatre was small enough to be able to enjoy the performance no matter where you were seated.
The particular dance we saw was 'The Kamogawa Odori', apparently the most famous of the Spring dances, and one that has been performed in the Pontocho district of Gion since 1872.
As my understanding of the Japanese language is not that advanced, I was unable to follow the story entirely, however, visually the performance was stunning, and I was able to find out plenty of information about that particular dance, and story, on the internet.
The second half of the performance was a series of dances representing a selection from the 11th century Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon.
It was incredibly beautiful and I am so glad I got to witness one of these performances before returning home.
I did a live telephone interview on ABC Radio Australia this morning which heard me voice some of the things I have been silently thinking over the past few weeks. To most listeners, it was just an interview with an artist, living and working in Osaka, Japan, which is exactly what it should have sounded like. To me, however, hearing myself voice some of these thoughts made my head spin for the rest of the day.
I feel 'almost' ready to head back to Australia.
Living overseas had been a dream of mine for a long time, and in more recent years, (since my first visit here in 2003), Japan became the destination of choice for that dream.
When I moved here earlier this year, I did not know exactly what I was expecting, just that I wanted to experience life in another culture and also spend more time in this country that I had visited only briefly on two occasions, one that had fascinated me for a number of years. I also wanted to paint over here. To make art in the country that has so heavily inspired my work for the past 6 years. I have done these things.
Although the initial plan was to spend at least a full 12 months over here, I feel as though I am ready to see what's next. For a new dream?
There is no rule that says I have to stay here 12 months in order to achieve or fulfill my dream of living and painting overseas. The majority of my time here has been spent making art. Living here as opposed to being a tourist has also allowed me to see another side of Japan other than the fantastical one that I first saw in Kyoto. There is a lot of beauty here, but also a lot of ugliness... it is the same almost anywhere I guess, but I am grateful to have had enough time here to see both sides. "How does one find inspiration in a city that is not so inspiring?"was one of the questions asked of me today.
There is good and bad in everything I guess. This was not my answer, in fact, I cannot even remember my exact response. I do however remember talking about the fact that one of the beauties of art, and perhaps a skill, is to be able to turn something ugly into something beautiful - to see, or at least search for, the beauty in everything, or at least in most things.
I'm a big believer in 'timing'. And, although I feel a little in two minds about going home so soon, (half way through writing this blog entry, I confirmed my return flight home in early June), I feel that I will be leaving here WITH inspiration... not staying so long that I risk losing it. This may not make sense to anyone else, but it makes sense to me.
I will miss Japan when I get home, and I think that is a good thing. Also, living in Japan has taught me a lot about myself, and taught me to appreciate home and many other things, and people a lot more, and THAT is an even better thing.
So... I have lived out that particular dream. I have achieved what I set out to do. I have experienced something amazing. And, I have been fortunate enough to have the freedom to pursue, and in a sense, control this dream. There have been no rules other than my own.
I read the following quote yesterday and it rang so true for me.
"Most people are not free. Freedom, in fact, frightens them. They follow patterns set by their parents, enforced by society, by their terrors of 'they say' and 'what will they think?' and by a constant inner dialogue that weighs duty against desire and pronounces duty the winner." - Erica Jong (forward from the Henry Miller book, Sexus)
I have been a reader and fan of Anais Nin's work for a number of years now. I was aware of her association with Henry Miller but up until now had not read anything of his. I know a few people who feel you should like either one or the other, but not both. I have heard people say a similar thing about Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, (I own works by both of them), Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner, and Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. I find this a strange attitude to have, regardless of who they were as people, or how miserable or wonderful their relationships were, they were all passionate creators of their craft. I can understand someone liking the work of one more than the work of their lover, but to suggest that you can not enjoy both, that you must choose between the two - like taking sides - seems ludicrous to me. Especially when someone has not even read the work of the person they are criticising.
I want to copy this excerpt from Miller's book, Sexus, here, so that I can re-read it whenever I like. Not to say that I agree with everything that is written, but I certainly find it interesting and thought provoking.
He went on after a moment's reflection: 'Now painting is a little different, to my way of thinking. It takes more to appreciate a good painting than to appreciate a good book. People seem to think that because they know how to read and write they can tell a good book from a bad one. Even writers, good writers, I mean, aren't in agreement about what is good and what is bad. Neither are painters about paintings, for that matter. And yet I have the notion that in general painters are more in accord about the merits or lack of merits in the work of well-known painters than writers are with respect to writing. Only a half-asses painter would deny the value of Cezanne's work, for instance. But take the case of Dickens or of Henry James, and see what astounding differences of opinion there are among capable writers and critics as to their respective merits. If there were a writer today as bizarre in his realm as Picasso is in his you'd soon see what I'm driving at. Even if they don't like his work, most people who know anything about art agree that Picasso is a great genius. Now take Joyce, who's fairly eccentric as a writer, has he gained anything like the prestige of Picasso? Except for a scholarly few, except for the snobs who try to keep up with everything, his reputation, such as it is today, stands largely on the fact that he's a freak. His genius is admitted, i agree, but it's tainted, so to speak. Picasso commands respect, even if he isn't always understood. But Joyce is something of a butt; hs fame increases precisely because he can't be generally understood. He's accepted as a freak, a phenomenon, like the Cardiff Giant....And another thing, while I'm at it - no matter how daring the painter of genius may be, he's far more quickly assimilated than a writer of the same caliber. At the most, it takes thirty to forty years for a revolutionary painter to be accepted; it takes a writer centuries sometimes......'
'........Well supposing you say to yourself - the hell with becoming an artist, I know I am one, I'll just be it - what then? What does it mean, to be an artist? Does it mean that you have to write books or make pictures? That's secondary, I take it - that's the mere evidence of the fact that you are one....Supposing, Henry, you had written the greatest book ever written and you lost the manuscript just after you had completed it? And supposing nobody knew that you had been writing this great book, not even your closest friend? In that case you'd be just where I am who haven't put a stroke on paper, wouldn't you? If we were both to die suddenly, at that point, the world would never know that either of us was an artist. I would have had a good time of it and you would have wasted your whole life.'
At this point Ulric couldn't stand it any longer. 'It's just the contrary', he protested. 'An artist doesn't enjoy life by evading his task. You're the one who would be wasting his life. Art isn't a solo performance; it's a symphony in the dark with millions of participants and millions of listeners. The enjoyment of a beautiful thought is nothing to the joy of giving it expression - permanent expression. In fact, it's almost a sheer impossibility to refrain from giving expression to a great thought. We're only instruments of a greater power. We're creators by permission, by grace, as it were. No one creates alone, of and by himself. An artist is an instrument that registers something already existent, something which belongs to the whole world and which, if he is an artist, he is compelled to give back to the world. To keep one's beautiful ideas to oneself would be like being a virtuoso and sitting in an orchestra with hands folded. You couldn't do it! As for that illustration you gave, of an author losing his life's work in manuscript, why I'd compare such a person to a wonderful musician who had been playing with the orchestra all the time, only in another room, where nobody heard him. But that wouldn't make him any the less a participant, nor would it rob him of the pleasure to be had in following the orchestra leader or hearing the music which his instrument gave forth. The greatest mistake you make is in thinking that enjoyment is something unearned, that if you know you can play the fiddle, well, it's just the same as playing it. It's so silly that I don't know why I bother to discuss it. As for the reward, you're always confusing recognition with reward. They're two different things. Even if you don't get paid for what you do, you at least have the satisfaction of doing. It's a pity we lay such emphasis on being paid for our labors - it really isn't necessary, and nobody knows it better than the artist. The reason why he has had such a miserable time of it is because he elects to do his work gratuitously. He forgets, as you say, that he has to live. But that's really a blessing. It's much better to be preoccupied with wonderful ideas than with the next meal, or the rent, or a pair of new shoes. Of course when you get to the point where you must eat, and you haven't anything to eat, then to eat becomes and obsession. But the difference between an artist and the ordinary individual is that when the artist does get a meal he immediately falls back into his own limitless world, and while he's in that world he's a king, whereas your ordinary duffer is just a filling station with nothing in between but dust and smoke. And even supposing you're not an ordinary chap, but a wealthy individual, one who can indulge his tastes, his whims, his appetites: do you suppose for one minute that millionaire enjoys food or wine or women like a hungry artist does? To enjoy anything you have to make yourself ready to receive it; it implies a certain control, discipline, chastity, I might even say. Above all, it implies desire, and desire is something you have to nourish by right living. I'm speaking now as if I were an artist, and I'm not really. I'm just a commercial illustrator, but I do know enough about it to say that I envy the man who has the courage to be an artist - I envy him because I know that he's infinitely richer than any other kind of human being. He's richer because he spends himself, because he gives himself all the time, and not just labor or money or gifts. You couldn't possibly be an artist, in the first place, because you lack faith. You couldn't possibly have beautiful ideas because you kill them off in advance. You deny what it takes to make beauty, which is love, love of life itself, love of life for its own sake. You see the flaw, the worm, in everything. An artist, even when he detects a flaw, makes it into something flawless, if I may put it that way. He doesn't try to pretend that a worm is a flower or an angel, but he incorporates the worm into something bigger. He knows that the world isn't full of worms, even if he sees a million or a billion of them. You see a tiny worm and you say - "Look, see how rotten everything is!" You can't see beyond the worm....Well, excuse me, I didn't mean to put it so caustically or so personally. But I hope you see what I'm driving at....'
- excerpt from Henry Miller's 'Sexus' (1949), the first book of the 'Rosy Crucifixion' trilogy.
I took some time out from painting on the weekend and went to Ballarat with my partner and his two boys. A dear friend of mine had invited me to her partner's, (Ted May), exhibition at Ballarat Fine Art Gallery. 
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