HIGH UP IN THE TREES

Previous.

{Far. Close.}

This time last week, I travelled the road with Estragon (played by Ian McKellen) and Vladimir (played by Roger Rees) in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.

{Far. Close.}

This time last week, I was preparing zines in readiness for our stall as part of Page Parlour.

{Far. Close.}

This time last week, I took the long way home.

This time last week, I was just as sleepy as I am today.

+ My part of the project Of Birds and Fishes progresses and soon I will have more photos to share of the finished print. It is a five-colour print reworked with coloured pencil. I will be sending it to the Netherlands but a few copies from the edition I will be able to hold back and list on our store if you’d like.

+ Tables I have recently sat at (elsewhere)
+ Wonders often come in small packages (asphalt and air)

Tuesday belongs to the fox.

{Several foxes enfolded is available here.}

Here today a closer look at two new zines made to fill our zine table at this year’s Page Parlour. Once more, you will find the animal serves as our protagonist in Several foxes enfolded. The animal as symbol oft appears in Louise and my zines and artwork; we are fascinated by them for it is "the way animals are represented, in paintings, zoos, and film, (that) will always tell us more about how we look at animals than about the animals themselves". We use animals as a tool to represent us — our courage and lack thereof — and to hold candle to our fears justified and illuminate our vulnerabilities. As things of the earth, the animal represents our morality, and today’s animal is the fox.

{A set of two things regarded as a unit is available here.}

A set of two things regarded as a unit also features animals and some that have been drawn by Louise. A polar bear looks at their reflection, and kingfishers and Great auks rub shoulders with other duos, sets and pairs. There are two pieces of the one puzzle, two halves that together make a whole, a pair with hair to spare, and a sea vessel for you and a sea vessel for me. There is a pair of 3D glasses to enhance the creative vision and two seats recently vacated at the theatre. And more, friends, so much more.

Thank you to everyone who has already placed a zine order and to all those who stopped by our stall at Federation Square on the weekend.  (Photos coming soon.) We think you’re swell. Thanks for taking an interest in these zines, one and all.

(Quote above from Fierce Friends: Artists and Animals, 1750–1900 by Louise Lippincott, Louise and Andres Blühm)

And that Zeus might transform me into a flying bird.

{One of four new zines to share with you. It is now available here.}

It seems many of us are tangled up dreaming of the sea. As I look at the photos that appear from friends near and far, I see the ocean or a river that leads to it. As I prepare for the beauty that is winter, many have summer on their mind. Here for you today is one zine recently made and it is all about the sea. A companion zine to Views in my pocket (February '10), this zine is my homage to the sea. A tiny homage to that big blue mass.

 

We are dreaming of the sea. It holds us mystified.

 

If only I were hiding under the cliffs,
in secret among the rocks,
and that Zeus might transform me
into a flying bird
(Euripides)

 

An edition of 75, this is one of four new zines made in time for Louise and my stall at this year’s Page Parlour. The other new zine that I wish to introduce you to is A menagerie of common and exotic animals. An edition of 60, it features sixteen postcard collages (some you have yet to see) and several French animal cards (le lapin, la marmotte, la daurade, l'ours, le tigre et al.).

{A menagerie to hold in the palm of your hand. It is now available here.}

On Louise’s post, here, you can see the remaining two new zines. There is one featuring forms twinned and one with foxes folded.

 

+ You can find all four of these new zines listed on our shop.

I flew to the sea as I slept last night.

{A digital proof to serve as a colour guide.}

This evening I have a small preview of a new work to share. I have a new print in the works, and here you can see a colour proof being made. This work is especially for my part of the project Of Birds and Fishes. It is called From this bed, with the wings of a bird, I flew to the sea as I slept last night. In this collage, you might just be able to make out part of a theatre set by the painter Paul Nash. The set was created for a one-act play, The Truth About the Russian Dancers, written especially for Tamara Karsavina by J.M Barrie. The play was first performed in 1920 at the London Colosseum. At the Savoy some six years later the play was revived, and now it forms the backdrop to my dreams.

A more detailed look at this work I will sho you soon. Thus far, it is yet to be printed.






{Next step, the plates and a proof off the press. And then we can print to heart's merriment. Hooray! Until then, we wait.}

(Thanks for all your help with this work, Louise.)

+ The Spanish mirror had a habit of distorting one's reflection for the betterment of all and zines in the works.

They came here to seek shelter.

{No this will fit my needs. A postcard collage that features in a forthcoming zine A menagerie of common and exotic animals. I hope you will like it.}

This Monday evening I am thinking about quiet. The quiet sought and found in many public spaces, the secular and the sacred both. From libraries, bookstores, theatres, cinemas, and galleries too, sometimes, to places of worship and cemeteries, there is an atmosphere of hushed all prevailing quiet that I like. It is a quiet yielded by the space, and one granted by our response to the space upon entrance. In such places sheltered, quiet from the outside world can frequently be found. Quiet from the noise of the street, from thoughts that pester at the shoulder, a quiet sometimes Zen-like, sometimes calming. It forms, for me, a refuge simultaneously intentional and unintentional. A quiet space eked out for various reasons but primarily quiet nonetheless. It is the quiet and comforting embrace of such places that when found can be utterly intoxicating; a hiding place, a hideaway, a hideout perfect. It offers the condition of being safe, sheltered from pursuit, prevailing danger, or trouble in whatever costume dressed.

But these places are not always quiet. Such a thing would be unattainable and unnatural. There is the peal of bells, and hymns and prayer sung in the place of worship. There is a mourner in the cemetery sobbing and the lawn mowed nearby. There is the titter of laughter in the library and the whirr of the photocopier machine in use, making copies from the pages of books one after the other. There is the muffled electronic buzz of a mobile in the cinema, and the chomp-chomp of popcorn consumed. There are heavy steps on the gallery floor, loud conversations overheard in the bookstore and the hum of anticipation mounting in the theatre. Things are never all quiet, but they come pretty close to.

Animals featured in many of my collages and various collaborative pieces made with Louise, are often shown on lookout for such quiet refuge. I hope they find it.

And you, do you also seek quiet?

+ Drawing nearer (A new post of mine on Of Birds and Fishes about my animal protagonists.)
+ A lot can happen in a couple of days (Louise's secret project is slowly revealing itself, post by post.)

We are by the sea.

{Louise stands at the end of the pier.}

A new camera calls for a walk. Let us head to the sea. Let us see what we find. Let’s enjoy the wind that picks up the ends of your hair, twists them about, and whips you about the ears. Let us enjoy the salt in the air that reminds me of home, and marvel at the grey clouds in the air and the gulls in flight.

+ Louise is working on a secret project (to be shared in June) and by the ocean proved setting perfect. Can you guess what it might be?










{Scenes from one windy afternoon. I accompanied Louise as she set to work on her secret project.}

Wide-eyed.

{Climbing to a safer place. (A new collage for May that will soon feature in a new zine.)}

Last night I dreamt I was trapped in a room without a window or a door. I awoke to find myself kneeling in my bed, my hands pawing the wall for a break in the brickwork, a crack, an escape route. Heart pounding against the confines of my chest, the room took a while to fall back into familiar shape, to wear its well familiar face. Slowly in the dark things became recognisable. There was the wooden dresser, and there, the door. There, the hands of the clock with its faint blue glow and there on the floor possessions flicked from said dresser by my Siamese cat (who made appearance in the previous post to such acclaim).

Cracks in walls, someone in pursuit and being snared in a trap, it occurs to me that my mind wont let go of images seen in episodes of Doctor Who and The Killing/Forbrydelsen (please, don’t tell me how it ends, I’ve five episodes remaining in the first series) watched. Caffeine quantities increased, I find I am as impressionable as a piece of clay yet shaped and fired into vessel or plate.

 

+ Of Birds and Fishes/Over vissen en vogels is a new project I am involved in. Take a look.

In the studio.

{Over My Shoulder (III). A little scene plays out on the drawing board.}

From one artists' book to the next, from India to Germany, I invite you to turn the pages once more. Peer over my shoulder, friends, I've a new artists' book to share.

 

Looking only for you is 28 pages in length and features collage and pencil across the pages of Der Rhein and was exhibited late last year. It now resides in the State Library of Victoria's collection.

 

Small iPhone magic would not have been possible without either Omar the Siamese cat for making an unexpected appearance and Louise for the filming.

 

(Musical credit: Bandoneon Antero Jakoila, from the film The Man Without a Past by Aki Kaurismäki. It is a favourite of mine.)

 

{These are the last photos my beloved camera took before shutting lens and turning up heel. Farewell, old friend. Hello new camera.}

+ Happy Mother's Day Mum. xoxo

In the form of a book.

Feeling quiet and introspective this Thursday morning, here, in place of words, are the last few details of a recent artists’ book of mine I began to show you heretofore.




































{These photos from one sunny day in March were taken as I waited to collect my passport photos from the Post Office nearby. Feels an age ago now.}

 

Through purgatory passed, and then there was Bombay is now part of the Melbourne University Library Collection.

+ An interview with Louise features on the Mornington Peninsula Library blog.

+ This is Nick White