Tag: art

With these hands …

RDP: Sculpture

Give a child a lump of Playdoh and they will, squeeze, twist and pat, and create something with it. It is the creative and playful mind at work.

To be creative is one thing, but it is not always synonymous with being imaginative. The distinction is this. A child can copy a Lego design beautifully brick by brick, but a child who pulls it apart and creates something of their own, is using their imagination. This distinction is something I’ve always had to be mindful of in my work with children.

When I moved into my current home a decade ago, the dream was to fill it with art and sculpture. The plan was to live in a happy place, a place I could call home. It has taken some time, but I’m getting there.

While striving to shape my dream into a reality, I had to be content with eclectic art and sculpture I found in other places.

Roadside, on the way to Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

The Balinese people make ornate carvings that adorn even the humblest of homes.

At the entrance of my hotel, Bali

Then there are those that are huge and imposing, often found in the hotels.

Outside the hotel spa, Bali

This sculpture, in particular, took me back to childhood years. We had a guava tree that canopied over a small water tank. I spent many an hour, stretched out over a branch, watching people below, pretending I was a leopard.

The sculpture is beautifully made and perhaps best viewed when expanded to see the filigree that makes up the spots on the leopard.

In a friend’s garden, Canberra

I love how someone turned a humble garden spade into a quirky little duck.

Waterbird, sculpture by Jason Wooldridge, a local artist and sculptor in Esperance, Western Australia

I find Jason’s work irresistible and his vision finds a place in my home and heart. I have several of his work. All birds, of course! He takes scrap metal and turns it into delicate sculpture.

Jonathan Jones, indigenous sculptor, National Art Gallery, Canberra

I was in Canberra last year for just two days. My nephew, an architect, asked me what I wanted to do. The National Gallery, of course! Of all that the Gallery offered in the time I was there, I was so drawn to the work of Jonathan Jones. These massive stones were in a huge open space with a narration in Wiradjuri language underpinning a simple but profound message about Country: stay connected, and the reciprocity of need and caring for it. I went to the Gallery with my nephew and his toddler. She sat in the stroller, quiet as a mouse and took it all in, as did we. There was a sense of solemnity that was quite powerful and moving. It was difficult to walk away from this space.

Sculpture by Jonathan Jones, National Art Gallery, Canberra

Sculpture by Jonathan Jones, National Art Gallery, Canberra

I loved this one the most. It was huge and just so very beautiful.

River bed, Murchison River, Kalbarri, Western Australia

And then there are those unexpected sculptures left behind in nature.

Some with angles and edges, waiting for the sculptor’s hand to shape and define. Others, made perfect by the storms and ebb and flow of tides, and all that remains, is just heart. Much like us.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

Unbroken

RDP Sunday: Knit

A few months ago I spent a week in Bali. My first visit in forty years. I went overseas filled with trepidation. The long walks at airports being one of them. 

Yes, there were changes but there were many other things that remained unchanged. I loved how the Balinese people start their day with a gesture of prayer. They have little offerings made of leaves, flowers and incense as a symbol of gratitude at their front door or business. A lovely reminder how to start one’s day. For me, gratitude is a gesture of oneness, with whomever one acknowledges that to be, that knits yesterday, today and tomorrow, seamlessly.

I had some specific things I wanted to do while I was in Bali and the usual tourist activities were definitely not the plan. The thing I wanted to do most was to visit a healer. My driver took me deep into the heart of Ubud. Even he was unfamiliar with the roads and had to stop and ask for directions several times in small villages. We reached our destination. I sat at his feet. The man, a stranger to me. His first words to me were not to share anything about myself with him. He held my feet and looked deep into my eyes for several minutes. The intimacy of the moment took me by surprise. He then proceeded to tell me a few things about my life where I had come from and where he thought I would be in the future. Sceptical, I took it all in with a big pinch of salt. 

Returning to the hotel I found myself in a different space. I wanted to wander around the beautiful gardens and did this effortlessly. I saw things I wanted to see. I found peace in unexpected places and surprisingly, within me, too. I did not touch my laptop for a week and I cannot remember the last time I did that. But my camera which has been out of reach suddenly found me again. Was it the healer’s words? I’ll never know. I felt I was back, with stories to tell.

While walking next day I noticed this wall. I loved how the soft moss nestled along the lines gave an illusion of ‘mending’, these big rocks into a wall. It made me stop and examine nature’s art more closely. There was something analogous about this but what, was elusive. 

That night the urge to write again was strong, almost visceral. The wall, physical and metaphorical, reminded me of the Japanese art of kintsugi where broken pottery is repaired with gold; the transformation a new creation, made more beautiful, than the original. Not because of the gold, but because the eye is drawn to what was once imperfect and travels along each join, where the narrative is told. 

I wrote this in response

she ran her fingers through the pieces
sifted the broken

the chosen ones,
she placed in sequence
piece by piece
glued with gold

the bowl, emerged
whole
unbroken

by a dawn bird

There was a space within me that I wanted to share, when I started this blog some years ago. It is a space that is sacred to me. It is who I am. As vulnerable as it makes me, it is my authentic self. 

May the new year bring you good health and happiness. May you seek to find that sacred place where imperfection is art and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you do, you may find this in people too.

As always

a dawn bird

Horizon

On one of my previous trips to Geraldton I drove past the foreshore when I saw the new sculpture, Horizon, being put into place.  I caught a glimpse of it through the pulleys, cranes and high vis clothing of workers and knew it promised to be something special.  Of all the dozens of trips I’ve made to Geraldton, how fortuitous the timing.

My first trip post surgery was to Geraldton and I found myself drawn to the art.  Being school holidays, there were holiday makers in town and people taking selfies, most drawn closer to the sphere.  I stood away from it to experience it differently.DSCN8820.jpg
‘Horizon’ is a 1.5 metre globe by artist Lucy Humphrey.  The water within turns the world upside down because of the way the light reflects off it.

There is, of course, the technicality of the idea inherent in this.  But for me, I thought of the water within the sphere as the life within one.  The idea that despite all, if one accesses it as intended, despite distortion, we can find a horizon.  It is there, we just need to pause to let it define itself as a steadying point of reference.DSCN8866.jpg
In the weeks before and after the surgery it did feel like my world had been turned upside down.  Living with palpable fear of the unknown is an unsettling experience.  As I’ve mentioned before I am not church going but I did believe, my faith was my horizon.  It kept me steady.  It gave me perspective.  It gave me pause.  It gave me time to reflect how grateful I am of each moment that make up my day.

May you experience the joy of gratitude today.  The joy in the ordinary that makes life, extraordinary.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

 

In response to RDP – Friday – Thankful