Close Encounters : Broken Heartstrings...

MADAM DADA.

Today is my Birthday. In all the years it has taken to get here....this morning I awoke to a beautiful spring day and new hope.....mainly for my work.. as an artist... and for me ....as myself. The last few months of my life have been most complex..indeed. Never thought by being connected to Facebook...that so much information could be arrayed....in the strange ways that it has......Life is tangled up most of the time....but this form of communication often leaves me reeling.




To take a chance on a stranger.....is not only mad but god dam ridiculous...to say the least.
Artist's come in all shapes and sizes....most of us have such different agenda's...all working and thinking many number of things.....some of us prefer to be private and some of us are more inclined to socialise about the work. As a teacher I tend to be an active purveyor...of all things fashion/art/design/genre's/histories and all number of playful practise's ......this can create a wonderful experience for many a student and I love to tell stories via the fabulous mother ship...that the Internet is....................HOWEVER.


Recently I was enamoured with someone who seemed friendly enough....and like able.
I discovered this person was informed in certain areas of art...of which I was interested in.
After many back and forths....via chat and messaging.....the daily getting to know of one another rose to other heights. Those intense and overwhelming similarities.....were constant and mind bogglingly attractive.....and rest assured ...deadly.


What people do in this... not so new form of communication.....is anyone's guess...I was new to it..even at my age ..I never really went in there.....never looked around at it....was not at all of the time...that modern etiquette and social networking....delivered. I stayed right away from all of it....just used it for good...so to speak....students were the main priority there.

Time and effort spent on this one person.....was all consuming and took over my affections.
For all that I felt...nothing will surpass those moments....not even a most treasured memory of standing in front of a VINCENT VAN GOGH....in Amsterdam.

It took me over.


If I was a doctor...I would get out my little brown leather doctor's bag....and use every instrument I could find to do my own surgery....to mend and put back together...my broken and beaten heartstrings.
Without them...life would not be as it once was......I'm ready to appear again as I was..trusting in my silent surgery....I feel  like I'm in recovery mode.

Closeness with the intangible is too hard.
What I know and what my experiences have taught me.....is to go with that first bout of intuitiveness.
Believe it through and through.

Its my clock....the one that belongs to me.

Inner workings of my clock. Dedication to Dorothea Tanning.

Significant Others : Partners in their Artistic Realms.

LEONORA CARRINGTON and MAX ERNST.

When we think of the perfect picture of "A life Romantic"...I'm inclined to think of the great Surrealist's.Their chosen fields of working were about inventing brand new forms of expression which were mainly based on chance. Max was one of the outstanding exponents of art in the 20th century.

In 1938 Max Ernst fell in love with a young painter, Leonora Carrington...they moved in together in a place called SAINT-MARTIN-D' ARDECHE.......where they discovered and bought a tumbledown seventeenth century farmhouse. Together they renovated the entire complex. Max Ernst, who was persecuted as a "degenerate artist", had to leave Europe after being interned a number of times. Leonora Carrington fled to Spain while he was in German internment. In Marseilles Max Ernst was reunited with many of the Surrealists as well as the collector, PEGGY GUGGENHEIM. Peggy paid for him to fly to New York in 1941. Peggy married Max to save him. Their marriage was about that. In New York...Max meets Dorothea Tanning and once again he finds an old house on Long Island and gets started on making it their nest.

PEGGY GUGGENHEIM.

 Salvador Dali and Gala Dali were also very well placed in terms of their romantic encounters.

She was the significant other of the french poet...Paul Elouard....before Dali decided to call her his own.The jewel couple were very liked across Paris in the 1940's and as Picasso reigned as "The King Of Paris"...in the painting world....Salvador was a close and passionate friend and confidante. It was Picasso who suggested that Dali and Gala should head to America to sell his surrealist sculpture's to the well to do of the American Rockefeller's.......Thirty foot high florescent orange Polar Bear Statues for the lobby of the Rockefeller Centre. Gala and Salvador were the toast of the town. He arrived back in Paris a wealthy man. The band of artists working in Paris during and after the war....were well connected.......with each other....helped each other get through to the next miraculous thing coming their way. Spaniards like Joan Miro Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali....head the brigade of talent and insight for the intelligenzia.......bohemian Paris would never be the same again. Dali many years later told "La Monde".........."When my Gala dies....I will eat her...she will not be eaten by worms or burnt in a fire.....she will live in me".

JACKSON POLLOCK and LEE KRASNER.

An American Saga....was a book written about the Jackson Pollock's life...for me it has to be the best thing ever written about the native roots and cosmopolitan strivings of American modern art.

The Prologue begins and opens with the words of Pollock....."I'm going to kill myself".....carried by his demons Jackson Pollock....was inconsolable.

Lee Krasner took him on when not one single person would even look in his direction.

She managed him..loved him...held him..became his mother/confidante/lover/agent/advocate/mentor and enemy. Love, they say, heightens our senses and lowers our perceptions......this is true of their turbulent lives...to the very frantic end. She was quoted as saying...."He was as exciting as hell".

Falling

Into

The arms

of an

artistic type ......is invincible.

ALFRED STIEGLITZ / GEORGIA O'KEEFFE.

 

 

         

VERTICAL INVADERS: We are all in Exile.

JEAN COCTEAU.

In 1973....... I was in High School loving my time in the Art Room.

My teacher whom I remember with great admiration.....was a man called Max Grierson.
He was so very enthusiastic towards telling stories about Monsieur Picasso.

On Sunday the 8th of April 1973....Pablo Picasso died.
He was buried in the remote seclusion of the CHATEAU DE VAUVENARGUES with the greatest possible privacy.
A heavy fall of snow covered the flowers already abundant in the Provencal spring and a violent thunderstorm announced his arrival.

My teacher went on to say...in nature beauty and ugliness are inextricably partners and Picasso's art expresses this throughout his love of nature as a whole.
He is a scavenger who unearths from the mud abandoned riches and the magician who creates VENUS out of empty space.
He was born with a philosopher's stone in his hand.

Exile is a state in which, in it's subjective effects, never stands still.

To be an artist is to live in exile perpetually....we are outsiders with irrational tendencies for all matters of strange and enlightening elements of thought....the processes are deeply philosophical and without the homages......and the many who shook up the centuries past...we would not be well guided in our plights.

Morandi.....Rothko.....Pollock....Modigliani.....held their own...Morandi painted pots and jugs for 40 years....Rothko and his paintings of self cremation.....Pollock in Long Island was visited by Celestial Aliens from above.....and gave us the galaxy of constellations .......and my most treasured of all bohemian's, Amedeo Modigliani ....could only see his long and seductive women.....all alluring and ready to conquer and bewitch.

As a teacher I often use a text to explain our uncompromising judgements in art....and hold many discussions regarding this text....JOHN BERGER'S....WAYS OF SEEING.

He is so easy for the students to read.....I enjoy his descriptions and knowledge in an area so often overlooked.

Exile.....loneliness.

YVES SAINT LAURENT.

To the artist...... being lonely in the same way a lunatic is lonely is because it seems to the lunatic that, since he never meets opposition, he can do anything. It is by paradox...the loneliness of self-sufficiency.

I almost forgot to tell you...GEORGES BESSON wrote of the homages of Picasso..

This man, whose tastes are not extravagant, has a weakness for black diamonds.
He owns two superb ones.
He will never part with them.
They weigh a good hundred carats each.
He wears them where others have eyes, it's as I tell you...and I assure you that those women on whom these diamonds turn their fire are utterly bowled over.

Great Expectations : Where does it all fit in.

Across my life there have been many experiences involving young adolescents....mainly through teaching and mentoring.

Recently I began teaching a small class of students who, no doubt, will one day be working in the world of fashion and all the mayhem that that entails. When delivering some fashion history to them they are intrigued to learn that YOU are and were there....when it all took shape.

The 1970's in Melbourne was certainly a most prolific decade....with new blood...fresh from the many art schools....bursting onto the streets with a sense of doing things for the very first time!

                                                                     AND THEY WERE!

A generous sprinkle of assorted bands and radical art movements ...gushed out onto the streets.
St.Kilda was the place to be seen and heard....all who walked Fitzroy Street were clad in the notorious BLACK clothes...we so loved with a passion....and still do.

Screeching sounds from over tuned electric guitars and piercing over pitched bemoans were rampant.
We were living in the twilight zone...a zone where what we were doing ....meant everything!
Life was about hanging out in groovy bars in Chapel Street as well as lounging at the Tiger Lounge in Richmond.....all day WARHOL movies at the Valhalla Movie House.....donning a hot pink vespa helmut...with FUCK ART LETS DANCE...written on the back....we wore what we thought was chic with our own inimitable style attached.....hell we were the ones!.....the ones who got the good end of the educational stick.

As a result....we now...many of us..find ourselves teaching and listening to the needs and desires of this over indulged generation.

Don't get me wrong!...I will put my hand up to say there are some who know the value of tutorial and class discussion.....but in a world where their technology rules everything....surely and slowly they are becoming less concerned for the knowledge and creative banter.....we so loved from our mentors and teachers.

The heady days of decades past, is a reminder of the values we placed on all the diverse and experimental approaches in our lives......today their lives are somewhat devoid of experiences.
I am aware of many young people in my charge who have not been to an exhibition in a Gallery or listened to classical music on the radio on a lazy Sunday morning......contemplation or as I like to call it......DREAMING AWAY....unexplored notions to them.

World politics is too hard for most of us to fathom at the best of times...however there is enough written about it on an hourly basis....to warrant some discussion.

My expectations for them are to grab and gauge and hammer their way into this century.

Say something about your world...the world so fast and furious only you can steer...the one you will live in and hold dear.....throttle it with all your might...make it bend to you and scream out loud when it hisses back at you!


Welcome all who ask you what will you do in the FUTURE.............................................................

LEO TOLSTOY..by ILYA REPIN.

                            

   

Napoleon's Eye.: We are family!....come on everybody and sing!....F...

Napoleon's Eye.: We are family!....come on everybody and sing!....F...: Day in day out we love to post our crazy lives up on the facebook wall......man it's fun! A mixed and varied family of connections f...

We are family!....come on everybody and sing!....FB.

Day in day out we love to post our crazy lives up on the facebook wall......man it's fun!
A mixed and varied family of connections from all over this big wide and beautiful world of ours.
Locked into a little machine that speaks 24 hours a day and never stops serving us in our artspeak.


This morning waking up and realizing it was Sunday ....a whole glorious day of just being Sunday.....that's something in it's self......freedom for most of us who are stomping the workforce trail.......and a treat to see what our FAMILY IN THE WORLD....is doing.

Duggie Fields and Rupert Thompson....are posting in our wee hours of the morning....then comes my beautifully placed friend...Horizons....living in Nice....and posting her azzura blue ocean shots to me ....and me loving her french dialogue!....................THIS IS TRULY WONDERFUL...YEAH!

Laughter is then infused ........and I mean infused....by none other than the INVINCIBLE....Monsieur Cox.....the court jester extraudinaire!......who packs a punch with his band of merry followers....he never fails to bring us kicking and screaming with HYSTERIA......recently he started to check on all the variations of spelling and pronunciations posted to our wall.......Man he was quick!!!!!!

After waking up to his wrath......I quickly found myself having to explain myself to none other than the other Cardinal de Comica.....GARETH SANSOM.....for spelling his surname incorrectly ........a blight on my good name as an artist and lecturer of art and fashion.......GOD HELP ME......I forget to spell my own name properly...........ah!........one big happy FAMILY.....love to all who participate in our madness........oh!...I forgot to mention my friend and fellow artist ARTURO SCHMIDT.....who has now been reincarnated as a BISON......and lives indoors in NORTHCOTE......yeah just another day in

Paintings : Not easily deciphered by normal codes of logic.

Recently I began a discussion with an Artist about his work and his life. He lives in the United Kingdom but he is from Israel. Over the course of our getting to know each other, a significant dialogue has  developed. His background and story reads like many young men growing up in the Middle East along the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea.

Jews from around the world have brought their culture and religious traditions with them, creating a melting pot of Jewish customs and beliefs......and Israel's substantial Arab minority has also left its imprint on Israeli culture in such spheres as Architecture, music and cuisine.

Israeli literature is primarily poetry and prose written in Hebrew....a language spoken since the mid-19th century.

VLADIMIR ZACHODIN.

We talk about his childhood and his family and also his start in a career in Architecture.
He wasn't happy in that profession and is now pursuing his painting.....they are autobiographical.

Many nights we talk about analysis of the cross-references and connections in painting.....we speak about mutating self-portraits and erotic fantasies/ fears/mythology all overlayed with the re-interpretation of various artistic sources....Surrealism/ Renaissance/ Expressionist....all to create a labyrinthine field that is not easily deciphered by normal codes of logic.


I leave him most nights, wondering about the term nomadic....a nomadic existence is when you deliberately change geographic and cultural perspective with an almost disciplined regularity.


Vladimir lives for trying to stay true to his plight and by working in his chosen field.....painting in all its manifestations....rich in his knowledge of those who have come before him....he produces a highly imaginative order of works with attempting to evoke an idea by various associated images.

VLADIMIR ZACHODIN.

I am totally absorbed with other ways in which artist's work....how we all think and where it all comes from....this Israeli is unique...in that he paints solo in a country far from the idyllic.

Great Teachers : Few and far between....

ARTEMISIA GENTILESCHI.

Theatre and drama were very new subjects in my early years at High School.

We were country kids in one of the loveliest parts of the Yarra Valley.
The local High School was situated between two rolling paddocks, with tall gum trees surrounding the entire school.Every morning there was assembly.....everyone standing in lines in school uniform.

It was announced to us all that we were about to have four new teachers....they were from the city.
When I looked up at the Headmaster....he seemed a little nervous about introducing these people.

First up was a woman in a very short mini with gorgeous long dark brown hair, and what I now recall as a pair of Gucci sunglasses. She also had very high wooden stripey sandals with hot pink ribbons sewn on the sides.

She smiled out at us like a beacon across a wild ocean.

The three other teachers were gorgeous hippy clad men with really long scruffy hair and desert boots.
After all the standard formalities.....we started our day.

The City teachers were very different to our regular teachers, in that they actually asked you how you were...from time to time they would pleasantly stop you in the corridor and say hi!...

Hard to imagine for those times as some kids were still being severely punished ...in all the traditional ways...a standard practise.

A few months in and my lovely Drama teacher decide to put on a performance of A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.....by Mr Shakespeare.....we did not know anything about him or why he spoke in that particular manner....but she taught us everything needed to understand this play.

She cast us with great deliberation and I scored the role of Titania queen of the fairies and my crush was cast as Oberon....I was really  excited to think he was my love in this play....I don't think he was too thrilled about it though. As the weeks rolled on we all laughed and played out our parts with nervous energy and clumsy shyness......we were all terribly young and silly most of the time..however .........our teacher revelled in the merriment.

Days were going by when one afternoon she informed us that we would be putting the play on at night.
That sounded right....but her take on a venue for the play, was the beautiful back paddock of the school grounds.....and not the multi-purpose room...we normally used for such events.
The laughter was resonating across the room at tremendous sound.....we all looked amazed by her words of excitement.

Her name was Sandra....she had been trained and educated in Europe ...she spoke several languages and had also lived in very fashionable circles in France. This teacher was one of the most inspiring and genuinely committed teachers I had ever met....one day she held me back after class, to inform me of her plan to decorate my hair and body with large clusters of hydrangea's .....for the deliriously  enamoured Titania....... queen of the fairies.

Sandra said ..."now when you awake from your dream you will be a different queen....you will be very sleepy and free....you will dance around in your nightie and appear beautifully dressed with gorgeous flowers all over your body....after all said and done .....you are in love with the donkey!"

Yes .....it sounds funny now!....but she provoked an awareness....of the sexual kind....in her worded descriptions like a true director of wisdom.
I loved her like a guiding angel....she changed my young life with her zealous nature  and convinced me I could perform with confidence and charm. Two things I have always had in spades...so I'm told.

A Midsummer Night's Dream was an outstanding hit...in the paddock...with my father and mother bellowing with laughter at my silly dream like state....a moment in time, like no other to recall.


Today I can say with all the years gone by that that woman has played such a significant part in my chosen fields of interest.
Its as I say...... a wonderful endorsement for myself as a teacher to treasure and guide my charge...the best way I know how.....and one other mighty revelation to this story is that ....the teacher called Sandra...was actually the grand daughter of Helena Rubinstein.....an icon of 20th Century history.

Sandra you were the best!....queen of all the fairies!.....x

SELF PORTRAIT

POST SCRIPT: If it hadn't been for Gough Whitlam these teachers would never have come out to the country schools......he played a massive role in the education of working class kids....in this Country.
Forever loved.....The Tower of our cultural identity...x

Napoleon's Eye.: "Where the heart is".....as an artist.

Napoleon's Eye.: "Where the heart is".....as an artist.: In the Studio.Sydney 1985. Melancholia.......has been the subject in paintings and literature.....for some considerable time now. Whe...

"Where the heart is".....as an artist.

In the Studio.Sydney 1985.

Melancholia.......has been the subject in paintings and literature.....for some considerable time now.
When I moved across to Europe to live, I had limited funds and no real prospects....other than a good education and a passionate teaching methodology.

I had only imagined what living in a different country might have been like......alas everything became a reality....very quickly indeed.

Europe was where most things happened......all through history, the most enlightening and enthralling evidence......occurred there.
Life was about taking yourself everywhere and experiencing the traps and the higher plains....in order to gain your knowledge. I recall the wise words of my Grandfather....whilst becoming his hairdresser at an early age......"Now my dear....do you know what the term black dog means"?......no Pa....I don't I said......he then explained it to me.

It seems from his many observations that some  creative types have a predisposition to a sorrowfulness, which can lead to despair........something about ......what he thought was an extra sensory perception.

Leonard....my grandfather.......was a wonderful teacher.

Years later when I had been living in London for several years.....he wrote me a letter.
Knowledge he said never really leaves you.....my dear....take the Cutty Sark...for example.

Now you live in Greenwich you will recall our conversation regarding the Maritime Museum.
And he was right....I had remembered everything he had taught me.

I find it so incredibly ironic that my first and most rewarding position I held in London,
 was at the NPG in the archive department.........simply because it was my grandfather who coached me on all the wives of Henry the VIII and the Tudors.......not to mention the symbolist's and the Scottish Colourist's as well...........perfect prerequisite for the job.

As an artist.....geography is one truly distinctive subject area.... I adore. Having travelled extensively across the globe.....I found my artistic endeavours, to be the best experiences of my life ...so far.

Self Portrait.

My heart has filled itself up with endless longings and sacrifices over my time....and if the heart feels....like I know it does.....my fathers death, only created my wanting to travel....even more.

He wasn't happy about me becoming an artist......he cared about where the money would come from.
On most occasions he would often talk to me about his home town in Italy......simply because he subconsciously knew that one day I would be there.......exploring his favourite spots.

His heart was always there.........and could sense mine would be there too.....he without knowing...was an artist himself. My passaport and citizenship de Italia......was our most treasured topic of conversation, hands down.

All roads lead to Rome........................and where my fathers ancestors built magnificent aqueduct's and splendid fountains with colossal mermen blowing into giant seashells.....he built roads too.......
that's where his heart was.................and mine too.

The Romans were the best road makers the world had ever seen and as I had to deliver my fathers eulogy......the words were clear.....my father made beautiful roads, remember that, the next time you travel on the Hume Highway..............one of the best.
 

The world in her skirt......"Stop the world I want to get off"......now!

Self Portrait in La Boudoir Dada.

All day I have been re-counting the passing of the week just gone.Two major catastrophic incidents took place......France lost the "Y" out of the most iconic logo known to them... that of YSL. A so called new Creative Director...I cant recall the name (Lame I think) decided that it was a good idea...name change will certainly put him on a map of his own...but hey... he will still hang on to a part of it to give him cred.....he'll need it.

 The other news I received tonight from Rome ...was that the legendary Italian Cinecitta Studio's in Rome..... is being developed into a resort and fun park for tourist's.
Hail...!
Federico Fellini if you are with the God's of Rome up there.....is it possible you can shoot arrows into the rear ends of those about to concrete by the thousands of kilo's, into the sacred play ground of the worlds most treasured land of exquisite artifice ..........."Maestro feel free to unleash your wrath".

Has the world gone stir crazy.......Im ready to call Richard Branson up to ask him if I can nominate my services as a guinea pig....for his first flight to Mars...or is it La Luna!?.....anywhere but planet earth.

The first ten years of any new century...is always about technology.
This century started off so well.....dont get me wrong!.....I would be the first to say how much I love facebook and youtube and my laptop with the perfectly cut out little apple on the lid......but its taking the personal elements from our old lives into the impersonal land of click click click click....click.

Year in year out....in this new century I have watched my Graduates leave their nest....only to discover their chosen fields of study are not well represented out there in the so called "Global Community".

Career's in the world today are subject to the utmost scrutiny ........a position in fashion or the creative domain is one you have to be deeply philosophical about. A creative approach is not enough to carry you across the threshold of this most unpredictable arena.

To play as an artist in an artist's world you need to be tough...you need to always be outside...in the dark...in the light...up in the air....down in the basement...where ever it pulls you into is where an artist gets his or her chances.An artist who becomes a Fashion Designer...has to be outside most of the time.
Its a world of thinking and re-thinking...often 24 hours a day....because its governed by business.

Andy Warhol said.."The art of Business and the Business of art.....are good."

Looking at the students work at the end of their time......is kind of sad...strangely they have belonged to you....they are in your charge...when they go you speak of the great and passionate days you hope they will have and with that...also comes the wonder of it all.

Their history and their technologies are fast and expedient.....its the one they were given..the one that hopefully transports them to that distant world, where the new order of things fits well for them.....let the fashion gods look down at them from the giddy heights and steer them into their own wonderfully artistic/worldly/meaningful yet alarming treadmills of life.......remember to be philosophical in what ever you do.......that will guide you well in the knowing that you have a fantastic experience ahead of yourself.

World in her skirt by G.Willis.

Oh....that contemplative other geographical walk.....I was going to take.......has  now made me more conscious  of all the emails and attachments I need to attend to....so I guess after I skype my friends in LA and fax an invoice I will be able to check my facebook notifications and prepare the assessment marks....before recharging my mobile phone and ipod ...in time for a 8.00am start......note to self..............must call Richard Branson.....ASAP!

Napoleon's Eye.: The World in my skirt....."Stop this perpetual cra...

Napoleon's Eye.: The World in my skirt....."Stop this perpetual cra...: All day today......I thought about my brother, who passed away at an early age...today would have been his Birthday. I thought how strange ...

The World in my skirt....."Stop this perpetual crazy world".....I want to get off.........now!

All day today......I thought about my brother, who passed away at an early age...today would have been his Birthday.
I thought how strange it would be to have him back.....for him to be transported here and now.
What would I say to him....what would he say to me...what would he look like....would he have aged to his 53 years......or remain young and beautiful.


One thing is certain......he wouldn't like it one bit.


After hearing two lots of really disturbing news in two days......about the changing of the iconic  YSL logo and name.........and the famous and legendary Cinecitta Studio's in Rome about to be developed into a major resort for tourists.....Im ready to call up Richard Branson and ask him if I can nominate myself to be a guinea pig for his first flight to Mars...or is it the moon....!...anywhere than planet earth.

With technology....advanced and super seeding itself, by the second.......it appears to place people in the....we dont need you basket.

Dont get me wrong.....Id be the first to say I love facebook and youtube and laptops with little apples carved in the lids......but all this talk of a wonderful global community stuff...mixed with viewing your loved one, a million miles away sitting in their undies talking about whatever....just does not interest me at all.
I have watched my graduating students leave the nest.....with no jobs to go to and little assurances of a career in their chosen fields of study....Its not the way it should be.

The creative world is tough and an  outside place to walk in....and when you do walk around in it for many years it can one day turn its back on you......leaving you to find something that hardly resembles what you left behind.

Artists are working away at their ideas....ideas that sometimes belong in the world we live in and sometimes in the worlds of their imaginations.........we rely on ourselves to make decisions and to figure out the complexities. Life in the every day is changing at such a rapid rate.....there's no time to contemplate or mull over your next move........I use to find that taking myself for a long geographically unknown walk...somewhere......... was my only way to feel at ease with myself and that soon runs out.

Worried about the so called future...leaves you saying to yourself......one day at a time!
My god!... is that the time.
Iv got to get home!
There's a million things to... do!
Must  recharge my mobile before I send those fifty emails and skype my friends in LA...as well as set the remote for that BBC doco and finish my blog for tomorrows devotee's.....ah!...................................

Portrait by G.Willis.

please say yes Richard Branson...x