Self portrait on her sixth wedding day
(1906)
Inspiration & Motivation
Remember Ren & Stimpy? In my darkest moments of sitting within my ill-fitting Australian skin I feel perhaps this is the treatment that could cure me and make me a 'better Australian'. To give a true Aussie twist the treatment would need to include something about a love of endless sport, outdoorsy things, jokey-blokey beer culture and not thinking too deeply or too much about 'stuff'.
Let it be known I am unconditionally happy - inasmuch as one can know the elusive truth of happiness extracted from self-delusion, that is. However, I feel a notion of happiness seems to be a little confused in mainstream Australian society (note: my 'mainstream' is generally West Australian - hello fundamental flag-waving Australianism) - in that one is only permitted a sanctioned happiness. Sanctioned happiness is a happiness tested as ideologically sound and governed by our great Aussie values - steeped in the golden amber effervescent glow of a sporting win or a good laugh (outdoors of course, beachy, preferably). This means only saying light and fluffy or funny things, laughing a lot and generally giving the impression of sunshine, rainbows (remember I am female) and footy grand finals.
How Appalling
Unfortunately, I am not by nature ( I recognise the risk in using 'nature' and fully accept the consequences) predisposed to fritter precious moments of conversation away on the surface to make pretty sugar and spice. I am more of a morose and maudlin type who prefers to ponder interesting questions and poke about in the lining of our social fabric. I have discovered these qualities to be distinctly 'unAustralian' and have, on many an occasion, been fortunate enough to have been shown the error of my ways. Well, try as I might, glass slipper doth not fit this ugly step-sister.
And so arrives the handbag - the eternal crafting of the feminine form. In painting my self portrait i am doing what the artist has done for centuries - making use of the most available resource to practice with: the self. My self comes with a twist in that I am also chronicling the gestation of another creative work; one that evolves with much less (? I have to ponder that) anguish in the creative process. I don't have any control in the creation of this being. I wonder how much control we should aim to impose upon our own creativity to produce what we desire.
Control
Control is a vice - it gives the illusion of order in amongst the chaos. It is also delusional; ultimate control, carefully managed, can manifest a self-delusional state of being - albeit a vulnerable bubble. Our society encourages us to live in a bubble of self-delusion. We are encouraged to be nice and polite, not to reveal too much or be too honest lest we shatter our carefully controlled and managed egos and submit ourselves to judgement and potentially hazardous manipulation. We look in the mirror plenty but we don't see much past the surface of things.
Controlling the Image
i am struggling to relinquish my artistic sense of control - to pull back the editor for a bit to see what my subconscious can deliver through the cracks of my skills and abilities. Trouble is letting go and revealing. Paula Modersohn Becker produced the image of herself not long before she died following childbirth. much has been made of her image..more on this later...
