Ephemeral on exhibition

I knew there was a reason why I didn't post the rest of the "Ephemeral" series... Actually no, it was just me exercising my natural gift for procrastination, but now I'm glad I didn't because they're forming part of a kinda-emergency exhibition at Trent Gallery where I work. So, if you're free on Saturday come by and see my six views of the same still life, along with some amazing work by the talented Freddie Claassen. After that I'll post them all up here so everyone can see them.

Ephemeral

A little while back I was planning a small series of work to send to The Art of Silver, a gallery / shop in Cullinan (here's the Facebook page). Anyway, they wanted skulls, and flowers, and maybe other things, but definitely skulls and flowers. So I was thinking, which is dangerous, because often I start thinking and forget to stop, and then I don't do anything because I'm thinking about it too much. And then a bit later I was in the bath reading a book about ancient Greek philosophy (you can tell I wrote this entire blog post just to let you know that I read Greek philosophy in the bath, can't you?)

And I read that the ancient Greeks were obsessed with the idea of permanence. What, if anything, was permanent? And what was transient? And I jumped out of the bath yelling "Eureka!" and made that the theme of this series.

Now, I know skulls can be seen as a bit morbid, but try not to see it that way when you look at these pictures, if you can help it. I know that to be Serious Artist you need to deal in death, mutilation and sex, preferably all at the same time, but these skulls and bones aren't supposed to symbolise death except indirectly. My work with skulls is informed by my background in archaeology, and usually refers to the past and what remains of it.

Here the skulls and bones represent permanence in the material world, and more broadly, non-living matter. The whole series is about the question of what is more permanent: the material (represented by the bones) or the immaterial (life, and the patterns passed on in the genes). The title of the series is "Ephemeral".

Covenant

That's what this first one is about; the title refers to the "covenant" that non-living matter enters into (yes, anthropomorphising here!) when it agrees to come together for a while in set patterns to form a living creature. The rabbit's hipbones are the non-living matter, and the flower represents life - I used the most ethereal and fragile-looking one I could find. The arrangement of the flower making a division between the two sides of the animal refers to the Ancient Near Eastern tradition of formalising a covenant by cutting an animal in half longitudinally and walking between the halves. After the duration of the covenant is over, the life sometimes leaves its imprint in the non-living matter, in the form of bones that remain, and that may then become fossils which are even more permanent. It seems that the question is resolved, and that non-living matter lasts much longer than life does. But what about the descendants of that rabbit? In all likelihood, they will still be living and reproducing (like rabbits) long after those bones crumble to dust.

Temporal

Ha ha, I made a pun. I have a sad addiction to the lowest form of humour. "Temporal" means having to do with time, temporary, not eternal. But it also refers to the sides of the head (up there, the sticking-out bits behind the eye sockets.) The watch is set to 5am (the "eleventh hour") of antiquity, and the alarm hand to 11, in honour of the last minute before the deadline - the only time I ever do anything. That is not an exaggeration.

Arrangement

"Arrangement" - I have arranged the bones neatly and formally, in reference to the way the molecules of non-living matter are arranged according to the blueprints of DNA to temporarily form a living creature. I wish I had a more creative title!

Prey (Ambition)

I've left my favourite till last. This one is about the other way that the matter making up a living creature gets recycled (cue Lion King music here). It is a tribute to the display in the Ditsong Museum of Natural History that has a taxidermy owl posed on top of a mountain of all the birds, rats, insects and so on that one owl eats in a year. I think it's a year, I haven't seen it for a while. The museum was the ULTIMATE TREAT for me when I was a child, besides the zoo of course. I still remember clearly how my parents let me choose what we would do for some special occasion, and how buzzing with excitement I was at the thought of going to the museum! Anyway, this is an African Scops Owl, and he was a little bit over-ambitious thinking he could eat a whole rabbit by himself. I just love his little face to bits! I want to do more owls. 

Anyway, that's it for now. The last 6 in the series are much more closely linked; it's just one still life viewed from different angles over time, and I will make them another post.

Kitteh

   

"Too late"

A bit of morbid Alice in Wonderland art here - this little rabbit skull that I dug up in my garden is either going to be my lucky charm or the death of me. Every time I do a painting that includes the skull someone buys it. Now people are starting to ask "when are you going to do more skull drawings?" Which is great, but I can already see myself becoming "that skull girl". I do like drawing bones a lot because of the archaeology angle, so I'm not complaining. More skulls (I mean, more instances of the same skull) coming up soon! I didn't actually use any paint in this one, it's just pencil, pen and ink, and tea.



In other news, I'm currently in Hillcrest visiting my in-laws; it's an extremely beautiful part of the world so I hope I'll manage to get a bit of work done while I'm here. I'm really feeling kloofs, ferns, waterfalls, moss, forests, lots of green. I hope to get to the sea as well before we leave here - I have a steadily growing mermaid obsession that one of these days is going to come out in my art in a big way...

Animal, vegetable, mineral

Animal, vegetable, mineral

Another world


Microctenopoma ansorgii

Collection I


Collection II


Cyclamen

Drimiopsis


Impala / lily


Motivated


Nature morte


Star map I


Twinspot

Mini-exhibition

Look! It exists! It is a thing! My exhibition opens on Thursday, and between you and me I'm almost finished with the pictures for it. Everyone is invited, not that I'm exactly expecting a crowd. I don't really know what to expect, in fact, especially as there is another exhibition opening same time, same place, and I'm worried that some distant aunt or something will think the other artist's (much better) artworks are in fact mine, and embarrassment will ensue.

"Autumn leaves" miniature

This is a miniature inspired by my biggest and possibly boldest painting. Which I haven't shown you yet. I wonder why? Let me try and figure that one out and perhaps remedy it. Same size as the other miniatures, watercolour with a bit of pencil and ink.

"Do I dare disturb the universe?"

That couple of lines from "The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (which I adore) was given to us as an essay prompt in English class when I was about 13. My then best friend wrote a story about a child-goddess playing marbles, and that story inspired this little picture an alarming number of years later. Thanks, Sheila, and I still miss you.

My mother-in-law bought it from the gallery, for which I am most grateful! This was another polarising picture like my lighthouse one; some people loved it, some people hated it. The lighthouse picture, incidentally, was bought some time after I posted it, by a guy with a compulsion to buy lighthouse-related things. As a mentor of mine once said, every picture has a buyer out there, someone who will love it. You just have to keep putting it out there until that person finds it.

"Archaeology - Lagomorpha"

This little drawing of a rabbit skull is inspired by my friend Karin who is writing a thesis on hare bones. The materials are pen, pencil, tea, dirt, salt and paper cutting. The original is only 6x8 cm, as it was done for a miniatures exhibition. The gallery guys liked it a lot, and hopefully I'm going to have a sort of mini-exhibition in September! I'll keep you updated.

Out of the Attic: Morpho butterfly

This is one of my favourite OOTAs, but sadly it doesn't scan as well as I would have liked! That's because it's another of the very mixed media pieces that I can't resist doing. This one is oil pastel / pencil / ink. The oil pastel is heavily diluted with turpentine to make something that feels a lot like watercolour but doesn't buckle the paper. Pencil over that goes on very dark and looks great - I used it for the shadows on the flowers. It wasn't quite dark enough for the black bits of the wings, though, so those are permanent marker. Looks wonderfully black in person, but scans a bit too matte in comparison with the other media.

The white and coppery markings in the black are also ink, this time those lovely Pentel rollerballs. Remember Milky Pens and then all the spinoffs? My aunt once gave me a giant pack of them, but once they ran out I couldn't afford more. And now I can't seem to find them anywhere - lots of other brands, but not the Pentel. And I only trust Pentel.

The angle of the butterfly looks a bit awkward, doesn't it? I copied this wholesale from a (not-online) photo - if it is your photo, drop me a note so I can credit you! These days I'm very particular about working only from my own photos, or stock from people with generous terms and conditions, or adapting things into unrecognisability. (Is that even a word? If it isn't, it should be.)

Land art

So far my only attempt at an art form that I love unreservedly when anyone else does it.

 
It was made in Lower Sabie in the Kruger Park, from fallen coral tree blossoms. Here they are on the tree:



And a wider view.

Out of the Attic: Yellow-naped macaw

This is one of my favourite so-old-I-can't-believe-it pictures, dating back to the era when I still knew how to use chalk pastels properly. "Van Gogh" background and all. I drew him before I got my own baby bird, who is an Illiger's macaw. I had been wanting a Yellow-naped - hence this picture - but stopped at the breeder "just to chat" and they produced this little green Illiger who burrowed under my elbow and stayed there. So that's why I have an Illiger's and not a Yellow-naped. Elbow bird is called Samwise, he's a shy and gentle soul, and I'll have to draw him for you sometime.

Solanum jasminoides on a book page

This is actually my third attempt at this technique, which basically amounts to layering painted tracing paper on pages from a copy of The Little Prince that got eaten by my dog, and then accenting it with cut out bits. The reason I'm showing it to you first though is that I'm not 100% happy with the way it turned out.


The balance between realism and simplification in the Solanum jasminoides isn't quite right, and this makes it look naive instead of stylised, which was what I was going for. I do like the three-dimensionality of it though, and I'm very happy with the cutout birds.

Guest post on the BAASA blog

I wrote a guest post on the topic of "Inspiration" for the Botanical Artists' Association of Southern Africa. Please go and check it out, and if you're interested in botanical art, consider joining BAASA. We have workshops, courses, exhibitions and expeditions. It's great for networking, too.

Here are a couple of photos from our last trip, in November.

Butterfly on porcelain

Last month the local BAASA group had a porcelain painting workshop. I painted this butterfly on a random milk jug and am now totally hooked, I just want to paint on every bit of china I see, but don't actually own the necessary supplies myself. BAASA!?

Anyway, it's really great because you paint on already-fired porcelain or bone china, which means whatever you have around the house or find at the shops is fair game. The paints are overglaze powders that you have to mix with esoteric oils and things, and fortunately most of the time what you see is what you get in terms of colour. You need to fire the painted pieces in a kiln, sometimes several times between layers especially if you are trying to get a nice bright red, but when you're done the design is permanent: you can wash it, eat off it, whatever. I'm hoping that a couple of us will get together in the future and share materials so that I can do more. I started a sugar bowl to go with the milk jug, but someone sadly cleaned off my drawing (in a special porcelain pencil that disappears when fired; normal pencil will become part of the glaze and be permanent) so I have to start over again.

I never used to be able to draw butterflies, because I couldn't get them even close to symmetrical. Then one day I realised that you could draw half a butterfly and trace it in reverse for the other side. Even later (like, last month) I realised that you can use a simple four-square grid to guide you in situations where tracing doesn't work so well.

I drew a few for you to demonstrate - figured that horrible mouse-drawing would replicate the effect of trying to use a disappearing pencil on a wobbly moving object with a curved surface.

The aim here is to show that you don't need to draw beautifully to get the right effect - the grid will allow you to achieve the basic symmetry that will make your butterfly look right. The first one is a bit wrong: in general the thorax needs to be in the "crosshairs" because both pairs of wings (and all the legs) grow out of it. I haven't drawn in their heads. You need to make the head small and inconspicuous to look right; our instinct as humans (duh) is to place special emphasis on the head and eyes, making them a lot bigger than they should be. This makes the butterfly look cartoonish rather than real.

Butterflies, butterflies, I am going to go and draw lots of butterflies now!

Out of the Attic: Lighthouse

While it might seem like a cop-out to do an Out of the Attic post after dropping out of sight for so long.... ah, who am I kidding, it's totally a cop-out to do an Out of the Attic post after dropping out of sight for so long. But I'm doing it anyway.

This is an old oil pastel doodle of a lighthouse that I did ages and ages ago, and is interesting for two reasons: One, it just popped out of my head, no references or anything. I actually have a dreadful visual memory so I don't work like that very often. Two, at least one person has said to me that it's their favourite thing that I've done, and at least one person has said to me that it's the worst thing that I've done and that I should get rid of it stat. It can't actually be the worst (never inquire about the contents of certain drawers in my home) but I thought that extreme range of reactions was pretty interesting. 

A new subspecies. Science!

Phytotaxa just published an article with one of my illustrations in it. It's a new subspecies, Euphorbia melanohydrata subsp. conica. This is the most complicated pen-and-ink drawing I have ever done - most of the time you can get away with just doing a little branch of the plant, but with this one I felt I just had to draw the entire thing, because it is absolutely surreal - like a baby Martian Christmas tree. The article is open access, so you can read the whole thing here.




All those tiny fractal branches and subbranches and live branches and dead branches and flowering branches were so much fun to do. As were the roots. And trying to describe the shape of the plant itself using only branchlet shapes for shading.




A bit of a closeup.

Did you know you can get your latest new-species news on Twitter? I'm not really a Twitter person, but this does strike me as slightly absurd in the best sort of way, so I'm all for it. Here's the Tweet that introduced the world to baby Martian Christmas trees.

With a little help...

I've been having a little bit of a hairy time lately, but I think things are starting to look up, and I've been coping pretty well - with a bit of help from some small friends. Here's a hint -

Out of the attic: Red-eyed Tree Frog

Ink landscapes

And here's what I've been up to. At least, a bit of what I've been up to.






















These are going to be decorative fillers for a book on, I think, the flora of the Highveld.




















They were originally just going to be simple little doodles.



I guess you could say they grew on me.


The second-last one is my favourite; I'm rather proud of the water reflection.



Now I have to go and draw some more.



P.S. What's worse than breathing in an unidentified insect?