she gets around

'That is all wrong...'

The boys have an uncanny knack of understanding what the beast is all about and delight in thrusting her into the company of others.

Through his exposure, he becomes initiated as he is no longer a beastly virgin. The look of horror on his face as he emerged in the aftermath of his experience was priceless:

Plutarchan Pornophile

Each pock-marked point in flesh emerges forth

A sharp shiny head that seeks to claim

new territory bound in black and lain

to rest aside (astride):  Obey as taught


her crafted form in perpetual naught

cut out and mirrored in narcissus vein

two curves of flesh, beneath bounteous mane

words linked and bound, bind into future fraught


It is the crafting of the beast to make

a mirrored mirage that [incarcerates]

a gestating form that appears, handmade

a gift, in breadth to view her vast landscape

in all her tumbledown and deep, dark lakes

long before and long after, she is laid

Beast gets out

Chain of Metaphors (Gran and the dirty bag) 2009

Finally. This was the beast at her best - just before she was finished and stitched shut.

We were visiting Gran for Mother's day and, whoops! out came the beast on her first official outing. Needless to say Gran was a little bit surprised - what is this stuff they call art these days?

She was dusted off again recently and passed around the BBQ table, fondled by a young man by the name of Chris. He looked a bit tortured after his encounter - as if he had been stripped of an innocence he didn't quite realise he had had. Lovely.  Hopefully Steve will share the footage soon.

Working with tools to hand

Hello  

2011 Acrylic on Canvas 45x45cm

Painting from life can be difficult when your model refuses to be still, however in this instance it worked rather well for a few reasons...

Firstly: a 6am start (or earlier) is preferable for longevity of model's mood. This pose lasted almost 20 minutes.

Secondly: main object of model's affection on standby (mother) to call 'hello' and smile gregariously at baby at regular intervals from artist's position.

Thirdly: nudity is preferred as mood-enhancer for all involved, esp subject who spread raw umber loving all over blanket from bottom end.

Baby  

45x45cm Acrylic on Canvas 2011

On a roll, second attempt to refine...not so. In this instance model was much more difficult in terms of holding downward gaze in correct position - despite much alteration and encouragement.

Back in the Saddle

Okay, so after a 6 month baby *hiatus* from anything other than baby, baby, baby I feel I am finally beginning to resurface, gasp for artistic breath and catch a glimpse of the horizon beyond family.


Inspiration occurs regularly as I breastfeed on the couch but the elusive empress of time ducks and weaves her magic in mysterious ways. Some days I am gifted an hour but most days I snatch greedily at  any moment I can squeeze the potential from but then find myself constipated with dread. This brings forth a host of issues in and of itself. With so much time to 'think' and 'plan' and 'dream' of glorious visions of vast uninterrupted swathes of art making, reading, sewing, poetically pondering; how does one begin to decide which baby requires nurturing at that precise moment? (Sorry, I am jumbling my metaphors a bit - subconscious intent to be obscure???).

Standstill. How to use the time snatched most effectively?

Happy Happy Joy Joy, happy happy joy...

 Paula Modersohn-Becker
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.

 Hello handbag.    

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...

Fabric Surgery

 Raw (Handbag) Charcoal & acrylic on canvas with velvet lining 40x50x50 (dimensions approx)

I can recommend this treatment for anyone feelingly slightly miffed about their perceived appearance. A quick cut up, stitch up and re-arrange can be very satisfying for all intents and purposes. Plus this ever-useful vessel can now carry material things from the physical realm. See, previously the vessel of the self embodied all manner of strange delusions and abstractions, still a vessel, yes, however a container for all things ephemeral and slippery, enigmatic and elusive. Now she can actually hold things we can see with our eyes, touch with our hands (or other body parts perhaps?..whatever gets your goat) and smell should we be so inclined to do so (not always recommended given the aforementioned possible touching of body parts though). We can now trust what she represents - an ever useful holdall carryall represented in her most valued proportion. She is now silenced into usefulness. At least that is the general idea. Astute observers may notice an opening near the nipple region of the handbag - as yet an unresoved issue for me, one I hope to resolve as I continue. Many options for nipple surgery - but I need to be clear as to what my intention for this is.

 Sick (Pattern Markings) 60x70cm Ink & Acrylic on Canvas     

Sick (Handbag) 40x50x50 (dimensions approx)

Acrylic & Ink on Canvas with Satin Lining and Leather Handles

Again, another makeover - complete with before and after shots. And what a dramatic improvement. Here we have the parts segmented in a much more convenient manner. For example, while sporting the bag - a-la-casual - one may elect to have the gash/slash facing forward (for those days when one does feel emboldened) or gash/slash facing backwards (when we'd prefer to think that life was about more than just our sex). You may have also noticed that the gash/slash is slighly blurred - a modest soft focus 'side-effect' from the surgical manufacturing process. Read: when I sewed the canvas, it rubbed a bit (read what you will into that) and blurred the charcoal leaving the image with a nice sense of renewed modesty not unlike porn images before digital cameras, mass prinitng and enhancement...back in the days when women could let it all hang out - literally.  When labiaplasty was floating free in outerspace with all the other useless spacejunk awaiting it's moment of glory and when bush meant old growth forests and the like (now as endangered as the full map of Tassie).

I have had some technical dilemmas resolving my handbag transformations however. The weight of the paint burdened canvas has created difficulty in it's starchiness and manoeuvreability. While I like the strength and form it gives the bag it is difficult to handle and does not lend itself to a softening effect akin to the flesh that I have been able to replicate with other fabrics. Still, I have discovered the wonders of steam-ironing through teatowel with a later version (will post next).

Notes on the details: The satin lining is gathered slightly and pinched then sewn into the angles of the breasts. The bag is stuffed with polyfil and this combination lends itsel;f to a nice boudoir sensation, all pink and creamy flesh-like. To feel it is cool, smooth, soft and spongy. Unsure as to whether it will bear contents (a stray doll's arm or some such thing) but leaning to the side of none. Nipples were resurrected from a previous bag incarnation and match the handle nicely. I think that's what they mean when the say to 'accessorise'.

All these bags will eventually form a totem pole - pole dancing handbags depicting the power of transformation.

Morning Sickness

Sick (February)' 60x70cm Ink & Acrylic on canvas

Sick: In case you were wondering, this is how it feels in the first trimester of pregnancy. I am inadvertently channelling a slight Brack influence here in my choice of colours for my nude and the obvious malaise or misery. I saw the Brack show last July in Melbourne...It is yet to arrive in WA, so starved are we of inspiration. Observing Brack's nudes I couldn't help but feel he was of a feminist inclination (he and the world just didn't know - it until now - I have enlightened everyone, be thankful) in his treatment of the female form.

 I felt so strongly standing in front of his works in the show at the Potter that he connected with an almost resgined type of melancholy in his subjects as objects of the gaze. Nobody looked delighted (but did anyone in any of his works?) to be portrayed in this way as was typical of the seductress or confrontational stare common to many female nudes. This, coupled with the fact that his nudes were not popular at the time but an expensive side-indulgence he afforded himself when he could, led me to believe there was more content in these than was given due consideration.

I digress. My nude self-portrait shows a vomit-style palette. I had intended to keep painting to finish this work but once I got to this stage I realised I had accomplished my intention of depicting my moment of joy in discovering I was pregnant and feeling like crap. True to my animal instincts I am baring my rear end (obviously to entice my viewer) and revealing the source of my misery. Juxtaposed with my foetal position (vulnerability, innocence etc) the image creates a nice tension beyond the ick of the palette that travels beyond sexy-nude-as-object to confront the viewer with a more realistic impression minus the romance. Some women suffer like this for the whole 40 weeks, poor things.

Raw (January)' 60x70cm Charcoal & Acrylic on canvas

Raw: This was my first self portrait upon discovery of the double line on the stick. As you can see, I wasn't having a very good day. Actually I am quite happy to be pregnant and do the baby thing all over again, the real trauma is the work-life-family balance. I have fought so long and so hard for so long (yes, many 'sos' in that sentence, read between the lines) to scratch out a corner of sanity and selfishness amidst the mother guilt and feminist angst, quite frankly I am quite concerned as to how I can manage to do/be/have what I need to hold onto my hat post birth. This portrait, while not a favourite of mine as it is rather wobbly, depicts the knife edge intensity and excitement/terror of blessed maternity in a very raw and honest way.

Raw (January) Pattern pieces Charcoal & Acrylic on canvas

I couldn't wait to cut this one up. It was my first foray into this series - an instant sketch done in an hour or two to capture a mood, a moment in time. I allowed myself certain liberties I don't usually allow in painting/drawing, and that is a free, unedited hand. I usually like to have a lot more structure and control over my initial sketching and spend time preparing etc. I liberated myself from any expectation of perfection (impossible anyway) knowing that it would be cut up. Ironically I have the photographic evidence here. This work is now a handbag with red velvet lining. Sick is also a handbag with pink satin lining.

Apologies I do not have an image yet, however my previous work Nude shows the dimensions of the pattern nicely:

 

M/other artist

I spent most of last night deep breathing in an effort to avert myself from the tendency to toss and turn.

Too many thoughts clouding the mind, jobs to do things to create, assignments to write.

Exhibition deadline looms- 100 works to finish by July 1st. Just to round it out I'm attempting to finish a masters (part time) and working almost full time. The M and skids need feeding but thankfully they are capable of doing washing and cleaning themselves in our non-traditional state of domestic bliss where washing occurs sporadically (or when we run out of clean stuff) and cleaning arises from the need to see the floor, bench top or table once a month on average. they would feed themselves but I like to maintain some skerrick of control. Did I mention I am pregnant? Ouch.

Mid cranial cringe and squeeze past midnight last night I decided i had a new take on the handbag (skin of the beast) works for this year. Interestingly enough the idea to manufacture a series of handbags crafted from self portraits was planned to echo the deconstruction of the image and perception of self over the nine months of pregnancy - idea conceived prior to becoming pregnant. We had no plans on adding to the family - not consciously at least.

Ironically now as I struggle to complete these portraits they depict a perspective i could never have attained previously - the sickness, the tiredness, the stress, the fear. All these seep through into the works in the most interesting way. The ultimate freedom comes from the knowledge that I will cut up these images to refashion together into a 'useful' object: A handbag.

I have been videoing friends and family about influential women who have inspired them as well as speaking on the role of the mother - or the 'ideal' mother in an attempt to create a manifesto of the ultimate woman. Last night I realised if I spliced the act of deconstruction - the slicing, dicing, stitching and turning of the artwork into craft in between these narratives it could resonate more powerfully my intention of crafting identity and my act of deconstructing, reconstructing etc.

Images to come, I promise...

Making it to the BRAG Summit

I participated in the very interesting BRAG summit on Saturday.  As I was on the first panel following David Bromfield's introductory talk about the mechanics of the Survey selection I blathered incoherently for most of my allotted time - more about this later.

It was indeed interesting to hear David speak of his and Pippa Tandy's experiences encountering the South West. Expectations of dirt tracks, mud brick huts and neanderthal artists lay the foundations for their anticipated journey. They were resolutely surprised by the volume, sophistication, depth and dedication of arts practice they encountered however. This was bone picked by local art historian Diana Roberts who took great offence to the stereotyping of artists residing in the country as poor little country bumpkins who couldn't find their way out of a landscape watercolour class if they tried.  Whether there is any truth in this is something to be debated no doubt - is it a regional hang-up or a typical generalisation applied by city dwellers considering regional art practice?

Apparently according to David, the South West region of artists has missed out on the global shift in cultural attitude to art and the centre. We seemed to have missed the point made that working from the region is apparently an empowering position. That is of course according to arts writers, historians and critics - a bunch of trend spotters who look for the next 'hot' angle to promote, seek out and conquer in art. Long gone are the Damien Hirst diamond-studded skills to suffocate our senses thanks to the GFC of 2008. Now we see not monumental and 'magnificent' art but apparently genuine, authentic, art of place and identity, belonging and humility. Art that speaks a truth without the dollars and the flash. Apparently.

Interesting to note that artists often ponder lonely hours in their studios contemplating their communication through their medium. If we read and network and google and blog I am sure we mighty stay abreast of these shifting posts - basically trend highlighters. No longer is it fashionable to produce great vast art-wank for multi-billionaires' collections, it is now the 'in-thing' to produce art not connected to the centre, art from where it exists, that reflects a sense of it's circumstance - the global chorus sung by a global tribe of various artists scattered across remote and far-flung places. What I find interesting about this is the chicken-and egg syndrome. Daniel said it is luck to be successful as an artist and i feel he is right. Beaver away in your studio and one day the trend spotlight may seek you out to affirm it's hot-spot ideal. That, my friend, is luck. Luck is not, however a trend-seeking artist who then produces work that fits the current preferential paradigm, that is savvy business sense, clever marketing and astute production, not art.

So I find it interesting that David says we have missed the 'global is in' memo posted on the art history noticeboard. Perhaps we were too busy being 'authentic' working away in our studios to be empowered by a quick mind-shift that we are in fact luck to be practicing where we are. Lucky we are indeed - to seek out exhibition opportunities across state borders that cost more than our annual income to enter, freight, insure and show. Lucky to have an abundance of exhibition spaces available to us, lucky to have curators, arts writers, a population big enough to support our growth and development. I guess if we exist alone in our studios completely internet savvy and well-read we would be in a better position to be globally aware. Quick note for me: i am on satellite broadband and it SUCKS. I can lose HOURS of studio time just trying to understand HOW I might begin to communicate with he rest of the art world about what I am doing....

Apparently we need a center to fight against, to establish a regional identity so that it would be easier for an art historian to make broad generalisations about us (or in my case, include but completely ignore because i do not fit the boxes applied to the region in question or the meta narrative applied to the region in question). Are meta narratives useful in creating meaningful dialogue about a region or a group of artists from a  particular area? It makes it easier to create a picture or snap shot of unifying features perhaps, easier to apply a metaphor or allusion...it does not however, do the artists any favour to have their work skewed slightly so that it fits more meaningfully within a package that promotes a meta narrative...(I miss spelt 'meta' as 'meat' and that seemed quite a nice analogy, a meat narrative, all fleshy).

I guess I feel our very real complaints & concerns have been swept aside in view of a preferred critique that makes it easier to generalise and patronise our area. Having our very real problems diminished by an outsider in a position of privilege is no more than a parent reprimanding a child for being too demanding. Our complaints and concerns are very real to us and bear a greater degree than faced by urban artists - isolation, financial support, available exhibition opportunities, lack of cohesive guidance (like Artsource or DCA etc). The sheer cost of transport alone in getting to see shows or trafficking work to and from exhibition needs to be considered before you point out that we missed the boat when the global art trend squad decided we were empowered artists because we lived authentically and could join the global community at will despite our location.

BOOK REVIEWS

Saw a short version of the film 'the road' - pretty good. It's interesting that the intimacy between father-son comes across better in the film that the novel. perhaps it's a male author a bit starchy - difficult to evoke the same sense of sentimentality in a tough bloke without compromising his tough survival exterior....felt that the road was highly constructed as a novel - not organic, flowing naturally - more like oooh this will really horrify them every 40 pages or so just to effect impact: 

'What's really, really disgusting?'
'...A woman roasting her own baby!'
'- yeah, how desperate must they be to do that?' 

Obviously not desperate enough to grab the roast meat (remember we are STARVING) and run with it. Where's the placenta? Illogical. AND the reference to Auschwitz with the piles of shoes and blankets in that house...why would they want to freeze their food? Freezing them will only make them eat up more of their energy stores = tough meat. PLUS what were they doing with the blankets/shoes etc? nothing. Again illogical but there with the slap- shock factor.

 

Tim Winton's Breath. Don't know a female yet who loved it - such a boys book. And how is the sudden wrap at the end? i completely didn't buy it - grand sweep over wife and kids to sudden psychological impact of his youthful dalliances. Bullshit. He was atoning for having plumbed the depths of depravity = psychologically damaged man. wank. he needed to go there more to make it believable except he got bored when the sex was over, rolled over and went to sleep to finish the novel as quickly as possible. crap. ripped off having to put up with all that macho bullshit to get to the end empty handed. THIN.

 

On a happier note - just finished Revolutionary road- read it? OH MY GOD it is wonderful. It's up there with Capote for character analysis, I loved it, found it hilarious - without actually laughing - wry humour in his harshly realistic cauterizing of the suburban marriage. One of the few books I want to turn around and read again to linger over his clever insight and share passages of his brilliance with others. Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant. I definitely like my character novels. If you cannot see yourself in this you are as delusional as they are about themselves. Something for all of us to be learned here. Desperate to see the film now while it is all still fresh...stay tuned

Want to read the slap next - heard of it?  Shit I haven't ploughed through this many novels EVER before - I've read 11 books so far this year!!!  I wonder what's happened to me?

Mrsterpiece

Skin of the Beast is moving into second stage of production now. I am planning to move into the manufacture of handbags en mass experimenting with an array of materials. My favoured approach is to paint a Frida Kahlo style portrait that is then cut up and stitched into a bag. Will post pics soon. Looks very weird, hald an eye here, part of a lip over there, lovely rendition that critiques superbly the path of the 'masterwork' by the 'master' artist.

I have been videoing the women in my life and interviewing them about the women who inspire them the most trying to elucidate descriptors from them. I have also been asking about mothers and ideas of the good mother...very interesting that what we value in mothers is not often married with how we judge one another and ourselves...more of this later.

I have been invited to exhibit skin of the beast in the 2010 Bunbury Regional Galleries South West Survey.

The survey this year is a special celebration of the best and brightest in contemporary art practice of the South West and is curated by Pippa Tandy and David Bromfield.

Artists were selected following a three-month travelling safari where David and Pippa visited artists in their individual studios across the south west region of Western Australia visiting as many as 8 a day. I couldn't think of a more exhausting time to be had...

Needless to say, skin of the beast makes her debut alongside the very special video featuring my Gran and Aunty Vick fingering my handbag with disgusted delight....

Fashionista: Bite Me

A few months back Handbag and I traversed a few towns in the south west and made note of some interesting discoveries: Celebrity culture is alive and well in our tidy little regional towns.

At the Rink in Bunbury, we managed to snare and snap the gorgeously stylish Ree Ree and Indi making a hasty exit from the zone-de-skate. We were so greatful she obediently elected not to wear her skates in the carpark...

Delighted as we were by this, we were equally impressed by the spirit of the Balingup Girls in Bridgetown; with Handbag in tow they cut a strinking scene going about their daily business whilst awaiting the Saturday afternoon fantastic gymnastic exodus from the local recreation centre where our little darlings were flinging themselves about in rubbery ways we can only dream about doing nowdays (as our husbands no doubt dream also) as the limbs barely remember such distant leaping recollections from our spritely youth.

On we traveled, my handbag and I to accost more innocent Balingup girls only to plunge them into the Handbag Dreaming series where we all suddenly become superhuman celebrity types who gorgeously dash about importantly from one appointment to the next...or from the General Store to the Bronze Gallery for coffee...

Handbag & Helie

I am fortunate to have understanding friends who are prepared to put their reputations and egos on the line in the name of art.

We took a roadtrip to Pemberton recently with Helie in tow to see the Helen Grey-Smith show. On the way home we call into Manjimup and took advantage of the scenery.

Helie shows us all how life can be lived to the fullest, with great style and enthusiasm.

Handbag becomes a ritual talisman equivalent to a mask in theatre: in masking our breasts with those of the beast we cannot help but respond in kind. This sort of street theatre-sports cannot be underestimated in it's ability to bring out the beast within.

Interestingly enough, touted as a handbag - the ultimate fashion fetish - she becomes an obliging wife or maid, ever responsive to the needs of her man in keeping him well-serviced and maintained in true silver screen goddess style.

Remember ladies in the 'missus' category: Our men need us. Bettina Arndt says we should 'just do it' and roll over like a good dog who will feel the heat rise mid-coitus. What do you think?

Handbag Evolution

Image: Protoype 1

The Handbag concept evolved as a response to an emotional outpouring; a ‘spill your guts’ moment followed sharply by deep regret and remorse akin to the embarrassment of a stumble and spill in a public space.

In the midst of my shattered ego-mourning shame I began to consider ideas of contents, containment, emotion and a certain propriety governing my gender as a handbag bulging with undisclosed truths hidden from the public sphere of judgement then suddenly and unceremoniously dumped in full view.

I had always had an issue ‘containing’ myself within the required space of acceptance yet ironically fought with myself to be ‘contained’,  to be a good girl: Aren’t we supposed to live in a post-feminist era where these things don’t matter/have been resolved?

The Handbag as object and performance tool had the potential for me to speak of these spaces and this conflict.

I wanted to create a handbag that would discomfort slightly by shifting and manipulating norms regarding the female form, fashion and functionality. I wanted to use this object as performance piece, symbolically re-enacting my ‘spill your guts’ moment over and again by spilling the contents of the bag in various public spaces to see what response I would get, if any.

Image: Layered Handbag Patterns

My desire was to challenge the idea of containment, the feminine façade of smiling sweetly with a wave of the hand in demurring sweet virtues of ‘oh it’s nothing’ over the war raging within: spilling my contents would become an act of defiance and strength rather than an admission of weakness and vulnerability.

The handbag would have the capacity to attract and repel in its state of beautiful ugliness revealing the contradictions inherent in ‘woman’ by drawing out people’s personal, societal and generational values and beliefs in response to it.

Crafting

Image: Handbag Draft Pattern 1 (above)

In designing and creating the bag I considered a variety of materials but the form stayed consistent:  in the shape of two large pendulous breasts.

I designed several different bags from calico, old tea-towels, faux fur, lingerie and lace before deciding that animal skin would be the most impacting and powerful material to use as it resonated with my intention to speak of the hidden layers of woman.

            Image:  Handbag Trial (Empty Socks, below)

Fur and leather spoke of her basest form; her animal instinct, her hairy flesh, her form as function, her skin of the beast that is desperately clipped, snipped, burnt, waxed, sliced, trimmed, injected and manipulated to hide. And hide she does: deep within the beast lurks like a ghostly apparition of our pre-‘civilized’ past.

Image: Recycled Fur Handbag with Pocket

The process began to take over as the crafting of the bag became the point of focus as ‘origin of the species’ commenting upon the continuous and cyclic nature of the fashioning of the female form and identity. I have amassed various patterns, bags and process documents that detailed the crafting process that became of interest in and of themselves as spokes on the wheel of the process cycle.

In revealing the construction of a handbag that replicates the female form as beastly I hope to draw out some of the hidden values and assumptions lurking below the Skin of the Beast that quietly insist upon appropriate feminine behaviour and appearance. 

Image: Pattern Trial in Calico

On and on and on it goes

Helen Grey-Smith



Pemberton, September 5 – 25 2009


I found Helen Grey-Smith’s retrospective in Pemberton inspiring and enlightening. Her works amassed the sort of insight and energy that generates a cascading sense of wonder and deep reflection while her artist-narrative and context left me with a deep burning sensation in my chest. I am quite sure there is a pointed effort made by most writers about Helen's work not to mention the elephant in the gallery (her husband) out of respect and admiration for her and her work.  However, as a feminist, I cannot help but be desperately intrigued by her life circumstance to ponder the influences in her art in order to tease out her artistic ambition aside from the context within which it was created.


Formally trained in London in the late 30’s and mid 50’s Helen’s work is represented in state and national galleries as well as numerous significant collections. It is no small wonder then, why it has fallen to a small art collective in regional Western Australia to draw together a series of her works as a means to confirm her reputation and status in the Western Australian art narrative. The little town of Pemberton, it seems, is in keeping with international art trends of a newly evolved feminist revivial. Lets hope the rest of WA catches on before it's a decade past us again!


She was quite happy to create in her own space and time without great ambition or desire for her work. Interesting. This is where I wonder, how much were attitudes to women artists - artists who were also mothers - responsibile for her choosing to languish in the shadow of her husband? It is artists like Helen, working with the feminine (read less valued) media of paper collage, fabric and print to paint subject matter that has no political or lofty ambition other than to please, to exist, to cause no trouble, to be attractive - that highlight for us the 'moral' (read guilt) restrictions placed upon women artists-mothers until only recently. Only her work to me is so much more than Helen had planned. Her work exists within a context, that context is characterised by conservativism and commercialism rather than ideas, debate and discussion. Did Helen have a choice to paint anything other than? How do we determine self-will or autonomy aside from the machinations of society and culture?


Born in 1916, Helen Grey-Smith is sadly more often regarded as the wife of Guy Grey-Smith than a talented artist in her own right despite the fact that she was the one to introduce and nurture GGS's artistic sensibility.  Mark Grey-Smith told me she sent him art supplies and books when he was prisoner of war which fostered his creative spirit. Fortuitous perhaps, as GGS is considered a demi-god looming large on the Western Australian art scene.


Helen's story as the other half lingering in the shadows of one of Western Australia’s canonical heroes of the art scene is repeated for many ‘lesser’ female artists the world over, viewed as supporting muse or mimic of ‘the great master’ they attended to (The guerrilla girls bedside companion to the History of Western Art is a good place to start on this). We need more female artist from regional WA success stories to inspire and encourage our next generation of artists. GGS, Brian McKay et al struggled along with the dinosaurs to bring modernsim to Australia. Unfortunately, modernism is now a bit like patterson's curse - it is thriving so much now it threatens to strangle and kill off any other fragile growth.

Frozen @ 4am

Couldn't sleep for thinking. Nothing of great substance, just that feeling of fingers in too many pies. Solution? Start another blog, set up a website, get busier...

Spent the whole day in the studio for the first time in ages, it was wonderful. I cut up one of the paintings I exhibited in the South West Survey (BRAG) and sewed it into a handbag. Probably some of the neatest sewing I've done in a while. Must be the oil-painted canvas.

BFF 2009 (BEFORE)

BFF (2009) AFTER

There is something wonderful about defacing then destroying something that was so laboriously created as a precious object.  Put it out, pull it back, carve it into something else. The process takes over.

Just got growled at for having the music too loud, time to sign off and hit some zzzzzz.