The Essence of Summer
Ah, summer! A season of childhood memories of playing under the sprinkler on hot summer days, running around barefoot all day and night, listening to the crickets singing as though their hearts (and our ear drums) would burst, eating Sunnyboys – frozen fruit-flavoured treats – on especially sizzling days, but one of my favourite memories is of eating home-grown sweet corn grilled until it blistered, in the back yard under the stars.
These icy treats on my February calendar page epitomise summer, and are painted by artist Joël Penkman in egg tempera on board. He specialises in paintings of food:
‘I love food, and I love to paint, so combining the two seemed like a good idea. It's easy to find a cooperative subject and I like its familiarity, it is something everyone can relate to. It can hold memories, tell stories, explore national and local identity, and make us hungry. Often it will be something sweet as these foods are made to look appealing, filled with artificial colours and pressed into interesting shapes. It is a fun, playful subject.’
Happy February!
~
You can read an interview with Penkman and view galleries of his work on his website joepenkman.com.
Layering Dreams
Last year I took part in a group exhibition called Read What You Look At, at Brunswick Street Gallery in Fitzroy, Melbourne. Funnily, I hadn’t actually planned for it, but had seen a call for applications in the newsletter I receive from the gallery and thought the theme was singularly appropriate for one stream of my fine arts practice.
I have been working on what I call my ‘random poems’ for many years – ever since I finished art college (a frighteningly long time ago) – and they have developed quite a lot over the years. Some of them are traditional hard copy collages, assembled on antique and vintage paper dating from the 1860s–1950s, and others are original digital artworks that combine collage with ink on the same paper backgrounds.
Originally they were all traditional collages, but as I started working with these priceless pieces of crumbling ephemera, I was terrified of ruining or disintegrating them with real ink, so I started experimenting with digital ink. (Some viewers of the exhibition thought it was real ink, so I can plume myself on my success there!) Of course I have to scan everything in, which is a time-consuming although ultimately pleasurable process. But there is still a real charm in the haphazard and inappropriate sizing of the words in the hard copy collages, where conjunctions sometimes shout louder than nouns or adjectives.
Along the way I also started playing with the effect of turning the cut paper images a stark black and white, for more impact and as a contrast to the coloured letters, and splashes of ink.
Read the original Artist’s Statement on Layering Dreams, or view the gallery.
Hanging Poems
Last Thursday night I hung my exhibition at Brunswick Street Gallery. This is only my second group exhibition, and the first time I hung my own work. The method is pretty easy, and it was very satisfying to complete the task. Seeing how many pieces I had (I had originally intended to hang them all in two rows, and was prepared to pull some if it was too crowded) the curator generously allowed me to take up more space than originally allocated, which was fantastic.
The works were printed by Karl at Lantern Printing, on cotton rag archival paper using archival pigment inks. They came up beautifully, and the crumpled antique papers look so realistic and three-dimensional. Two originals were float-mounted in oak frames, by Leigh at Auguste Clown Gallery.
Opening night was on Friday, and unfortunately I was far too busy talking to guests to remember to take any photos – tsk! It was a fun evening, despite a few nerves at the start. I was hoping to overhear viewers’ responses, but alas, again, too busy talking to eavesdrop!
At the conclusion of the show (two weeks from now), I will create an online gallery here for viewing. Most of the pieces on show are prints of traditional (hard copy) collages, but you can check out my digital pieces in the Random Poetry galleries.
Layering Dreams
I am excited to share the news that I am taking part in a group exhibition at Brunswick Street Gallery called Read What You Look At, which opens this Friday night, and runs for two weeks.
Although it is not my first group exhibition, it is the biggest one I’m showing in, with fourteen pieces of my ‘random poetry’ mixed-media collages on view. The series is entitled Layering Dreams, and is – you guessed it – all about dreams, sleeping, and waking.
Here is an abridged version of my artist’s statement:
From a very young age, I was captivated with telling stories through both words and pictures, often drawing and writing on found paper. At art college after studying the Dadaists, I became interested in writing poetry by reassembling random words. Recycling my magazine collection, I created a pool from which I could pull words to compile into ‘random poems’.
Always interested in dreams, and the surrealism intertwined with hidden meanings, this method of writing poetry appealed to me. Naturally, I choose words that I find appealing, but sometimes I deliberately choose ones that I don’t. This strange combination contributes to the elusive mood of Layering Dreams, often with unexpected results.
Sometimes a poem just starts with two or three words, and I slowly build on those. The poems are engaging and easy to read not only because of their brevity, but because of how they look. The fonts and colours culled from so many different sources interact with one another visually, encouraging the viewer to also ‘look at what they read’.
Returning to my roots of acquiring used paper (I’d pinch my sisters’ papers from their school folders!), I’ve sourced antique papers from the late nineteenth century to the 1950s, to use as supports for the collages. As well as traditional (hard copy) collages using only words, I also create digital works, combining scanned words and images cut from magazines with digital ink.
These many layers of ephemera, words, and pictures combine to evoke the otherworldly nature of dreams.
If you happen to be in Melbourne, I’d love for you to come and check them out in person!
Renoir’s Nymphs
Today’s pictures of Renoir’s paintings is brought to you courtesy of my unconscious mind. Overnight I had a strange, convoluted dream which began with me in the role of historian, researching the lives of an aristocratic Swiss family of the nineteenth century. I watched the young women of the family bathing in a river, cavorting like some of Renoir’s water nymphs. They had the same figures too.
Flash forward to the present day and I was in a modern suburban street surveying their open-top carriage, a relic complete with faded cushions and book shelf that was stacked with modern, luridly-covered romance novels.
The carriage escaped its moorings and started rolling down the hill before I could catch it (I was busy propping up an elderly but frail lady). Fortunately, and much to my relief, a shrub on the nature strip stopped the carriage short in its passage.
The dream didn’t stop there, but wandered through a disused mansion, a courtyard windswept with autumn leaves, and into a modern house lushly carpeted in white – and from there onto lunch with work colleagues, until my alarm woke me early this morning.
I can’t wait until tonight’s adventures!