Dancing violins

These wonderful creatures couldn't contain themselves and embraced each other in the kiln. Now they are stuck together for life.

From my drawing pad

A page from my drawing notepad.

Ivor (drawing teacher) immediately said "Ah, Escher" when he saw it.  I had not consciously copied Escher's work but his image of hands (below) had been one of the many images that had been flashed across the screen in my portraiture class a couple of weeks ago and it obviously made an impression.

It is odd finding these clear links in ones own work. I have never obeyed teacher's instructions to 'look at other people's work' before starting projects. I prefer to make my own work without reference to others wherever possible. Inevitably one is affected by things one has seen, but it has to be ones own passions that drive ones work. At the moment I am finding violins appearing in everything I do, like the picture above (and the one below) which are drawings of a ceramic violin I made last year.

Balancing act

Do you feel like this sometimes? A balancing act with uncertain ground beneath you?

I made this 'painting' (construction?) during the Painting and Technology class where we are using hammers, saws and glue guns to make our work. The figure is ceramic, made in Dunedin almost 3 years ago (so long already.)

Next step ... added a bit of a print which had a suitable shape. Odd how these things sit around, then suddenly fit somewhere perfectly.

More constructed paintings here.

Fresh from the kiln

Kilns are magic. You put stuff in that looks as if it should be thrown in the tip, fire it to 1280C and out come lucsious browns and blues pieces that look good enough to eat.

I am trying to make dancing violins (first lot out tomorrow) but in between I make a wonky pot or two.

Honey coloured clay bowl

The boxes are gone (or stored in the garage actually) and my cottage looks like a home at last. The contents of the boxes have been spirited away in to cupboards and drawers to be dealt with later. I have so many frames (still in boxes) and ceramic pieces (stored in the garden shed to be sorted when I have time).

Some pieces have survived the 'stow-away-until-later' drive, like this bowl made in NZ during my 2nd year ceramics class. The honey coloured clay used in Dunedin is particularly pretty, much nicer than the gray clay used at the National Art School in Sydney.

Technobaby

Today's babies are not even out of nappies before they are computing. This 19 month old wakes up, climbs on the chair and logs on, unbeknownst to her mother.

I read that researchers have found that retinal (back of the eye) blood vessels of 10 year olds who spend more than 2 hours at the TV/PC are dangerously narrowed compared to those of kids who play ouside a lot. Maybe schools should return to hand written homework.

Taking a break from boxes

The pile of boxes is growing smaller. Shelves and drawers have been rearranged several times as each new box is opened. All the stuff that should have been disgarded before moving is going into the St Vinnies box. The furniture is moving around too, finding its sweet spot.The boxes and boxes of art supplies, frames and completed work have not found their place yet. It will take a while

Tomorrow I take a break and go back to art class. I have a late night session. This photo below was taken recently on the way home from class.

Open a box ...

and out hops a kiwi.

In our first year sculpture class at Dunedin Art School we had to learn to use lathes and electric saws without cutting off our fingers and this little kiwi was the result. A friendly fellow don't you think?

Boxes and more boxes.

Its here! My furniture has arrived from Dunedin without major mishap. After three and a half months of living with minimal stuff, the house is now overflowing with boxes.

Tonight I have a comfy and warm bed. What bliss.

Roman sings

Life brings nice surprises. In 2009 I drew a musician playing an unusual instrument in the streets of the village of Rissen in Hamburg. A little crowd gathered and the musician stopped to tell us his instrument was a Bandura and that he was playing in the village to say thank you to the local people for enabling his stay in Germany. His name was Roman Antonyuk.

Today I heard from Roman and it turns out he not only plays but sings. He sent me a pair of YouTube videos. Here is is singing a Mozart aria:



In the second video he is singing Арія Остапа

If I had known he could sing as well as play when I saw him in Rissen I would have requested an aria.

The String Contingent.

If you see The String Contingent advertised, go and have a listen as they are worth the effort. I saw them (a trio of Double Bass, Guitar and Violin) in Woy Woy a couple of weeks ago and was captivated by their music.

Now I have made a little video using a piece of music they composed and played.

Visible history

The door. Once it was cream, then dark blue, then pale blue.  (Now it is white)

Back to canvas

I am back to painting on canvas. Time just disappears when I have a canvas instead of walls to paint. Makes me realise how I love it. The image below is a little bit of a violinist on blue background.

Pink to white

Pink pink pink. Pink walls, pink ceiling, pink lampshade, pink floor. No, not pink floor, but the pink walls and ceiling made the floor seem pink too.

The second bedroom of my little cottage was not only very pink but also in need of a bit of TLC. So I got out the white filler-stuff and patched up all the holes and cracks (very satisfying that) then painted the ceiling white. I used white 'decking' ceiling paint I found in the garage (thank you my predecessors) hoping it might have very good coverage and only need two coats. It had ... and it did.

Then I painted the walls white. Joy, oh joy, it only needed two coats to cover the pink, not four coats like the blue bedroom. It took next to no time in comparison.

The pink bedroom is a warm white, the blue bedroom is a cool white and both rooms are now waiting for pictures to arrive on their walls.

Is it a whale?

Is it a whale with a rock on a white sand beach?

Is it a beach and some stones?

Or the view out of an aeroplane window?

Is it a seascape? Odd sort of boat.

Or a misty snow landscape?

A boat... a whale... a landscape ... a seascape.

From paint.

Off my door.

Lawn of Sasanquas

The sasanqua tree in my garden is so tall I had not noticed it flowering but now suddenly my lawn is clothed in white sasanqua blooms.

They remind me of my courageous and now exhausted friend who has spent the last five weeks caring for her Mother. Her Mother died of mesothelioma last week.

White, all white

Four coats of white paint and finally the blue bedroom has been transformed ...

... into a white bedroom. In my minds eye I can see the pictures hanging there and ...

and the people who bought the curtains and the bedcover on eBay say they are delighted with their purchases.

Our daily bread...

Ever since I worked in plant breeding I have despaired of humanity's chances of survival. The systems we have created seem to be incapable of protecting us from the real nasties. Imagine a seed crop modification company so big and aggressive that everyone is afraid of it:  farmers, scientists, the media. The media don't publish stories about the many farmers who suicide because of the problems this seed has caused. Scientists are afraid to publish negative research results.

All the more credit to those who are bucking the system: An emeritus Professor is raising questions about modified crops  in Iowa (maybe when you are retired you can afford to buck the system?) and US Organic Farmers are attempting to protect themselves from litigation by Monsanto.
Hat tip to @opensourcelaw.

Old Ladder New Ladder

As I was looking at ladders propped up outside the shop, an elderly man stopped and looked with me.
"You are looking at ladders," he said.
"Yes I am "
"Oh, they are dangerous.You can fall off."
The voice of experience, I thought and looked to see which ladder seemed most stable.

I told the ladder merchant in the shop that the ladder I had inherited was rather wonky.
"Ohhh, that's not very good," he said, sizing me up with a worried look. "Its very dangerous, you could fall off."
Then he said, "Look, you stand on this and see how it feels."
He unwrapped all the plastic and tape from his 'On Sale' ladder and stood it on its four legs.

I climbed up. No wonk. Instead of feeling as if I was balancing in a boat, the ladder felt like an extension of my own legs. What a difference. I looked around to show the elderly gent from outside how stable I was, but he had disappeared.

PS Blue bedrrom walls are now white. Scraping back paint from cupboard doors reveals a darker blue beneath. Sigh.

Painting not painting

I would much rather be painting canvases than walls (or window frames) but the walls and frames have taken over for the moment. The previous owners left an elderly and rather wonky the ladder in the garage. It does the job, but as I wobble I tell myself I should get a replacement.