What happens when you bury paper in the snow? It’s probably going to fall apart. But an ancient practice of burying the raw material fibres of washi paper in the snow renders the paper it makes beautifully white. It’s called snow bleaching.
All in paper
What happens when you bury paper in the snow? It’s probably going to fall apart. But an ancient practice of burying the raw material fibres of washi paper in the snow renders the paper it makes beautifully white. It’s called snow bleaching.
When you are so busy trying to prove yourself to the world at large (or maybe yourself) you can feel like you have to keep pushing yourself, striving all the time to reach more and more milestones. It’s exhausting. That’s where pretending can lead to practising. It’s all in the framing.
Why do I love paper? I love it as a material to touch, smell, fold, stitch, crinkle, burn and print on. I love to thrust my hands in water and fibre and pull out a sheet of still wet paper. Its an alchemical process that never fails to inspire me.
Whenever I make new art, I ‘talk’ to my materials with my hands; moving papers around, ripping some up, stitching some together, folding and glueing. It's what I've been doing as I get ready for my exhibition, Paper at The Centre, Beaudesert, QLD in January.
What if you could make art that incorporated a formulaic method of response to an idea or materials where the images appeared “as if by magic” and all you have to do is join up the dots. Wall art or ‘art to make you scratch your head’?
Creativity is a blessing. It takes you outside of yourself to a place that is “out of time”. It is akin to connection with something greater, the divine, the universal life force.
When the world went into lockdown and my travel plans were cancelled, I brought the world to me. The view outside my window became a portal into the chaotic world outside and my daily lives on social media helped inspire others to keep creating through crisis. I learnt that home can be the best source of inspiration.
Tomorrow in Australia we celebrate the longest day and shortest night with a rare solstice event. Jupiter and Saturn, our two biggest planets in our solar system, will be in conjunction, appearing as a single bright star in the night sky, close enough together to “kiss” each other . What a great time to make a wish!
When opportunity comes, will you be ready? I never thought that I was good enough to apply for a major international exhibition. I thought I would fail, but then I thought - what if I am successful? Success takes courage and planning.
How do we imagine the future? I have been making a new world of my own imagination, filled with rich blues and greens. I believe that we are holding the world together while a new one is in creation. We bear witness and hold hope while the world is created anew.
What an amazing transformation year. Travel, exhibitions, learning to trust in myself and take daring steps. These are the hallmarks of a year that has changed my life and given me a clear vision for 2020.
When one thing leads to another, experimentation can become a springboard to creating new works. Trusting in the process and listening to your materials is an intuitive process I use when making art.
Maintaining artistic momentum through a daily arts practice.
Reflecting on doors, entrances and exits, endings and new beginnings.
A workshop of mini artist books gave participants the opportunity to interweave visual sounds to create their own paper dance.
My exhibition to honour the spirits of the women from the Lasalle spinning mills where I had my artist residency.
Flying free like the moths at La Filature artist residency making paper and mono printing.
A fitting tribute to the humble silk worm and its interrupted life cycle at La Filature artist residency.
A tribute to the shuttered windows of Lasalle and its colourful streetscape.
The work we do. I’ve been thinking of that today as I wove strips of photocopied posters advertising the silk industry which dominated the Cévennes up until fifty or so years ago.