HIGH UP IN THE TREES

The eternal verity: look the part and they’ll never know. ..

{End of day Raffles ramble.}

Dear you,

Now that I am here at long last the very thing I’ve dreamt of at irregular intervals is not quite as I’d expected it to be. Raffles. Singapore. A Hotel. A destination. Long in my mind. Now an actuality. I am writing this to you from my shaded spot beneath the trees. Summer’s already browned lawn. Late haze of day. I’m soon headed for the hotel’s hair salon. To be quietly brought into follicular line with a focused snip, snip, snip. With a little fussing, I may, just may, be granted entry to the bar and ballroom. The eternal verity: look the part and they’ll never know.


Yours seeking to hoodwink first,
X

The spatial arrangement.

{Mapping out space on the Queen's Birthday long weekend.}

map |map|
noun
1 a diagrammatic representation of an area of land or sea showing physical features, cities, roads, etc.: a street map.
• a two-dimensional representation of the positions of stars or other astronomical objects.
• a diagram or collection of postcard collages showing the spatial arrangement of works on a gallery wall: a map to make the installation process smooth.



An obsession with right angles revealed. I am Poirot neatening the paper spills on the mantel (The Mysterious Affair at Styles).

Quite my favourite part, the laying out of work made but not for longest time seen. From one small white box for transportation’s ease comes over 450 postcard collages. Within, all  are wrapped in column bundles of seven horizontals or five verticals. Together, they make one long grid, and I am looking forward to installing this work once more (but with variation and addition) come August as part of an exhibition, All breathing in heaven.

In a room where normally I do yoga, over recent long weekend I was able to lay out this work and make plans to add in 28 new postcard collages (which specifially tip their hat at Geelong) to the meld. The room alive with different Dogs, Cats, Cows, Eagles, and Camels, and the floor littered with paper order where normally there are purple mats. Having quiet play of such a space proved great for the head. Time to think as plans were drawn. (Time, as in below you'll see, to sit and post previews to instagram too.) And now our map is complete.

Gracia Haby, Louise Jennison, Stephen Wickham
All breathing in heaven
Saturday 17th of August – Sunday 13th of October, 2013
Geelong region artists program
Geelong Gallery, Little Malop Street, Geelong




















{Everything in correct position.}

Particulars:
70 columns (57 horizontal (7 postcards high), 13 vertical (5 postcards high))
(of) 464 postcard collages
(with) 70 printed labels with each collage's title
12.27 metres in length
1.1 metres in height
928 nails (required to hang)

Hours to install:
Iimpossible to predict

+ Upon related note, within this temporary makeshift box, twelve of Louise's exquisitely drawn Southern Hemisphere birds reside. For the month of April, a Yellow-fronted Woodpecker (Melanerpes flavifrons). For September, one Superb Fruit-Dove (Ptilinopus superbus). And finally, in this visual peep, November's bird, in ring of a kelp, an Antarctic Tern (Sterna vittate).

+ To those of you heading to Vanguard, The Australian Ballet's triple bill, triple thrill, this evening, I wish you a wonderful experience. It is a true celebration of the physical form and how it can move, convulse, be powerful, be languid, be pulled like marionette or swim in defiance of gravity. It still tugs at my heart. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

A Jungle Grows in all Spaces.

{A Jungle Grows in all Spaces by Gracia & Louise, especially for Pinknantucket Press, and featuring There'll Be Some Changes Made by Ocie Stockard & The Wanderers (Western Swing Chronicles, vol. 3).}

But a peep, a small peep at a collage of moving parts. Louise and I created this work especially for the second volume of Alice's Materiality. For the theme of Time, in broadest sense, A Jungle Grows in all Spaces is our version of all things returning to nature. Broken down into its thirty-plus parts 4cm square, it will in someway feature on printed page, but for more details you will have a little longer to wait.








{Collage details held still for a moment.}

From the first volume of Materiality, in case you are unfamiliar, The Artists and the Book. Digital and hard copies are available through Pinknantucket's store.

+ Flip book progression as teaser

And, of no direct relation...
+ Bringing together collage, drawing and photography
+ Olive transforms herself into a cushion
+ Charles Dickens, rejecting an invitation from a friend:"‘It is only half an hour’ — ‘It is only an afternoon’ — ‘It is only an evening,’ people say to me over and over again; but they don’t know that it is impossible to command one’s self sometimes to any stipulated and set disposal of five minutes — or that the mere consciousness of an engagement will sometime worry a whole day … Who ever is devoted to an art must be content to deliver himself wholly up to it, and to find his recompense in it. I am grieved if you suspect me of not wanting to see you, but I can’t help it; I must go in my way whether or no.”

A treasury of recent imagery.

A garland of autumn's tail and early winter instagrammed I give you. And should you have seen these squared visuals previous (be it in their original home or roaming about), an assortment of postcard collages for every second step. Journey forth!


{Your abode proved hard to find.}


{One for you. One for me. On second thought...}


{Florence, you are in my sights.}


{Percy sports an RSPCA Million Paws slicker. We are ready for the elements. We are coordination. In step.}


{To slink by.}


{A beautiful quilt handmade by my Mum most happily received.}


{I trust you completely.}


{Peeping: one gold star craft maker and one extra pair of handy hands. Unseen: one hound at feet.}


{Made discernible by the glowing light.}


{A double-shot kind of afternoon. Much needed if one is to work at the circumlocution office. (Market Lane Coffee)}


{With new fondness for the local customs growing by the day.}


{Some days give you boxing squirrels, much to own chagrin. (The Boxing Sequence above shows handshake to knockout, and it features in Taxidermy by Alexis Turner.)}


{It seemed it was the wild I needed.}


{A lucky $10 found floating in a shallow puddle early on a Sunday morning makes going to yoga twice as sweet.}


{Seeking entry. (With the beauteous State Library of Victoria in the background.)}


{Coffee chases coffee. (Switchboard café. Squish. Squish.)}


{The Heidelberg composition.}


{Growing in someone's garden, a bonneted lady of china with feet of succulents.}


{A wary salute.}


{Saturday's wait in the warm winter sunshine.}


{Exchanging peace for noises new.}


{A window of days, from Woolf's Monday or Tuesday to McEwan's Saturday. (Kay Craddock Antiquarian Bookseller)}


{The Saiga from the River Volga was well adapted to the cold.}


{The Australian Ballet's Vanguard true to definition. At forefront in movement, field, activity. So much so, we forgot to exhale. Held breathe from The Four Temperaments through to Bella Figura and the full-stop of Dyad 1929. (And now greatly looking forward to collaging with words a little something about this triple bill for Fjord Review in the coming days.)}


{The Constantinople Slide.}


{Morning's silhouette. Omar is illuminated by the globe.}

Light stepping, rock hopping...

{A whole new kind of formation.}

Dear you,

“Sing a song of sunbeams. Showing the blue’s we’re busy.” Rock top with friends. We’re grabbing hold of this delicious sensation. Infecting ourselves with dose of Yippee. Light stepping. Rock hopping. Bass slapping. In the Grand Canyon, take two. Squinting in the sun. Grimace makes grin. And it looks like we’re smiling even if we’re not. With a fascinating, abrupt ending.

Yours loon grinning at the birdie,
X

+ Budding zoologist: The terrapin in the postcard collage is a Diamondback (Malaclemys terrapin), the only North American emylid adapted for life in brackish and salt water. It is known for its strong large hind limbs that enable it to be such a fast-swimming turtle. They like to spend their days on mud-flats or tidal marshes, feeding upon snails, clams, and worms.


{Balanchine's The Four Temperaments.}

+ Louise and I, two Melancholic Temperaments, are very much looking forward to Vanguard (luck fortunate! twice apiece!), key works from ballet’s game-changers: Balanchine, Kylián, McGregor, and ask which of the temperaments are you?
+ How the Four Temperaments used to dress, by Lorelei Vashti on Behind Ballet

End of the line! Hotel Terminus...

{Quietly waiting.}

Dear you,

A poem by Emerson. Terminus. A monospaced bitmap font easy on fatigued eyes, designed by Dimitar Zhekov. Last stop! A Roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers. End of the line! Hotel Terminus. No reservation costs, and guest parking is available for a surcharge. Here I sit. In Oslo. Awaiting sighting of the scarred Risso’s Dolphin (Grampus griseus). Little is known of this dolphin, save its weakness for squid. But I’ve more than temptation snacks to woo. In my skill set the oft undervalued virtue of patience. He will come. I will wait.

Yours bobbing in deep waters,
X

+ Quietly working
+ Louise's For Martha is on display as part of the 2013 Libris Awards: Australian Artists' Book Prize

Sunday's saunter.

{Cover variation of As inclination directs, 2013.}

Each of the ten editions of As inclination directs features a different bird on the back of the cover sunset. Perched upon the seated woman's shoulder, a different bird of roughly similar proportion. Here, on a copy destined for the State Library of Victoria's collection of our artists' books, a particularly pink-breasted Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Muscivora forficata) from south-central USA. It is a bird known to winter in the South of Texas, and anywhere between Mexico and Panama. It is the extreme length of the two long black tail feathers that gave rise to the name for when viewed in flight the tails appear to snip, snip, snip like a pair of scissors opening and closing. When perched, they close shut their blades and spend, as giant guide book of animal behaviours instructs, their time perched elegantly upon fences, telephone wires and trees... and the obliging shoulders of strangers too, if the above visual is to be believed. There they patiently await sighting of their prey. Bees, grasshoppers, crickets, moths, wasps, spiders and caterpillars are their chief fancy. The odd berry or seed too, I'm told and trust-worthy is my source. Sight. Dart. Triumph. No room to dilly-dally.

And now here for you in long tumble, a closer look at this artists' book of Louise and mine:

{The inside pages of As inclination directs.}

+ This Sunday has been a very fine day for strolling about. Found floating in shallow puddle near to the pub, one ten dollar note, early on a Sunday morning. A lucky find on the way to yoga! Hurrah! The early bird today really does get its worm. And the sighting of a china woman with succulents for slippers. Hello, glorious winter. It seems you've few fans, but you can count on me. Always.

+ As inclination directs features in the current CFPR Book Arts newsletter available as PDF download (June 2013, issue 82)

Coming in. Going out.

{Incoming.}

Incoming:

Louise and I each receive a contributor’s copy of 1110/5, spring 2013, twenty-three postcards featuring the work of artists and writers, published by MIEL books. Just add a stamp, chimes Éireann. We could not be more thrilled to see our collaborative collage, A composition based on the stories collected from old seafarers (II) in print. And upon the reverse, the words of Shana Youngdahl, It Is Alice They Stare At.

 

One copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with artwork illustrated by Yayoi Kusama, published by Penguin Classics, 2012



Outgoing:

Various zines, greeting cards, and lithographic offset prints as our 25% off sale continues until the end of May. (Type in the code MAY to receive the tasty discount, should our paper wares tempt you. We are ready to just add a stamp, in the name of symmetry completion.)

Incoming. Outgoing. It's as simple as that late on a Monday.








{Outgoing.}

Purchase a copy of 1110/5
Featuring writing by Jon McGregor, Roxane Gay, Juliana Spahr, Nick Flynn, Matt Bell, Amber Sparks, Neele Dellschaft, Matthew Welton, Shana Youngdahl, James Cihlar, Mensah Demany, Laressa Dickey, T.J. Jarrett, Ali Gharavi, Polly Atkin, Metta Sáma, Arlene Kim, Steve Himmer, Rachel Moritz, Hannah VanderHart, Carol Rowntree Jones & Valerie Wetlaufer
With images by Kathryn Clark, Gracia Haby & Louise Jennison, Ilse Weisfelt, Ben Terrett, Shari Altman, Ivan deBoom, Elsa Mora, Marion de Man, Wil Freeborn, Heather Smith Jones, Mónica Naranjo Uribe, Yuko Matsui, Amy Friend, Lisa Congdon, Leo & Pipo, Lisa Solomon, Brian Aldrich, Cathy Cullis, Marie-Klara González, Camilla Engman, Helena de la Guardia, Thomas Sayers Ellis & Éireann Lorsung

+ Monday's gloom banishment looks like this. (One exciting parcel from MIEL books in hand. Thank-you. X)
+ In Amy's hands

Windswept. (Of Birds and Fishes / Over Vissen en Vogels)

{Hold fast, lest you fly off.}

Flying back to me from the Netherlands, my prints created especially for the exhibition and collaborative artists' book Of Birds and Fishes / Over Vissen en Voggels. From this bed, with the wings of a bird, I flew to the sea as I slept last night is a work from 2010, and here, as refresher, if you will, a look at the process of printing and signing.

Now that the edition is returned to me, I have listed several prints of From this bed, with the wings of a bird, I flew to the sea as I slept last night (2010) in our online store.

Below, a closer look, one windswept day. And should you be tempted by this work, or indeed any other things Louise and I have listed in our online store at present, we will be having a mad May Sale come Monday. As of Monday and right through until month's end, everything in our store will be 25% off. Simply enter the word MAY to receive the discount, my dear ones near and far. Three little letters, m, a, y, one after the other and together a little happiness we hope it spells for you.
















{...I flew to the sea.}

Travelling from head to tail.

{Genova one way, Johannesburg the other.}

A deliciously quiet evening at week's end provides me with the perfect chance to introduce you to a recent zine that brings together collages from two independent artists' books of mine. This zine is a bound tête-bêche (from the French meaning "head-to-toe", and also often referred to as upside-down or reversible binding, it is a relative of dos-à-dos). You can begin your journey in Genova before flipping over to Johannesburg. Or vice versa, my friends. It's up to you.

In Genova, from the artists' book Before all colour faded (Ricordo di Genova), you will discover that washing lines make great pathways for those nimble of foot and whom are not afraid of heights. Whilst in Johannesburg, in the artists' book In search of a time the heart does not recall (Souvenir of Johannesburg), you may sight Diana monkeys eager for the old joys in Pritchard Street.

With a familiar character at the feet (I give you, Percy), and a volcano in the background (Guilfoyle's Volcano built in 1876, Royal Botanic Gardens), here is a closer look at Genova to Johannesburg (Johannesburg to Genova):












{Scenes from Genova and Johannesburg in hand at the Royal Botanic Gardens.}

+ You can purchase a copy of this zine for $8 through our online store

+ Some unusual and exquisite bindings, Chetlam's Library
+ A Captive Diana Monkey on a Wall against a Landscape with Four Colorful Birds in the Sky by the Dutch artists Melchicor d' Hondecoeter, 1690 (Toledo Museum of Art)
+ A charming tortoiseshell box for snuff or sweets with a micromosaic of an animated monkey clasping a cherry by the Italian artist Giacomo Raffaelli, 1794 (Toledo Museum of Art)
+ Looking very much forward to receiving my copy of 1110/5

In order to achieve a particular end.

{An afternoon of collage awaits.}


{A necklace of mice to frame Louise's Southern Boobook owls.}


{Something new and something collaborative takes final shape.}

proc·ess 1 |ˈpräˌses; ˈpräsəs; ˈprō-|
noun
1 a series of actions or steps taken in order to achieve a particular end : no external noise could disturb the working process.

When earlier today Louise posted a part of her drawing process, it led me to think about my own methods of working. I can work anywhere, be it collage or writing. I’ve no especial requirements. Background noise is not an issue for me, so long as it is background noise and not foreground fuzz. Nor is at issue for Louise. No, so long as the mind remains focused on the task at hand, the house could burn down around us and we’d neither of us know. Correction, we’d neither of us care (if you’ll pardon my exaggeration fanciful and forgive my point hammering). So long as one is engaged in that beautiful oft-rare zone of focus, all else can crumble. When the mind is not full of chatter and tasks to later do, one can dance in peace until the moment departs. For it is, for me, fleeting. It can depart after hours on the floor collaging or it can make hasty retreat after less than an hour of writing. It is best grabbed with both hands when it appears (as I seem to always be writing to those I teach painting to through Open Universities Australia for RMIT). For contrary to common belief, it is not shortness of time that leads to work going unfinished and challenges not met, it is the absence of want. It is the lack of idea or desire. Without this, it is very hard to work. It is near impossible.
 
However, you can court desire, you can coax it from resting place. You can pretend to ignore it or summon it cheekily from a film seen in the late morning. Suddenly there it is, sitting beside you in the darkened cinema, woofing down your popcorn. You can organise it and anticipate it through practice and disciple too. My own idea creature appears with water. Watering the garden, showering, or washing the dishes, it is not as yet too fussed. Indeed, for me, the focus of working is akin to being in an infinite swimming pool. Submerged under the water, I can hear other noises in the distance, but they are not near. They are muffled and thus easily blocked out or pushed away. I ignore these distractions and remain with blinkers in place of goggles on. Blinkers that vanish as quickly as they’ve formed and I am then left with my ideas and beginnings to flesh out, polish, and complete.
 
For me, my studio is a drawing board, or a blank page. My materials are stored throughout the house. Glue, scissors, brushes, collected source material, weights to press paper, and so on. In all, my studio could be said to be 58cm X 90cm, the size of my main drawing board. It is how much space is enough. I do not need a larger space that I would only fill with paper towers and things for later. I don’t need natural light, though it is preferable and far kinder a mistress. I do not need much, really, but I do need a spark, an idea to chase like a figure running ahead of me in the woods. Idea hunting is physical stuff, don’t be fooled. If you’ve a net, I advise it. I say net, but, well, you know I mean focus. This is what I have been thinking about today and I wish, like Louise, that I could have another stab at answering Professor Sasha Grishin’s question about whether or not artists care about where there work ultimately ends up after it has been created. Off the cuff, Louise said that she did not mind where the work ended up, and I agreed. Perhaps what she meant and I agreed with was that at the time of blinkered process, all else fades away, that such things, important though they are, come second to the work.
 
+ Just your regular Saturday
+ Dusty Sisters Riverbath
+ 10 of 1,000

Wend one's way.

{As Inclination Directs in hand.}

Earlier today a walk was taken. A promenade Williamstown way. An amble, if you will, with an artists’ book recently completed tucked under wing, and the promise of ice-cream in a waffle cone for breakfast dangling as carrot to a donkey. Gone were yesterday’s rainclouds that scuppered our photo shoot plans. In its place clement weather ANZAC day, the perfect backdrop for our most recent collaborative artists’ book. An edition of ten, this single-colour printed work folded into a concertina now features the delicate hand-colourings of Louise. The sky is tickled sunset, and the lawns are a little greener too. There is light behind the clouds. It is fitting, really, all this walking about, as the stroll is first and foremost what this work salutes. As Inclination Directs, as title suggests, is full of characters sauntering, dawdling, meandering, rambling, traipsing. Some mooch. Others swan. Some make grander gesture as they perambulate up and down the pier.

More on this work and its plans soon, but for now, I give you glorious autumn.












{With our new book in hand, we are standing before the M.V. John Batman (built Launceston, December 1986) and the M.V. Little Gem (built by Port Jackson Steamship in 1947). We are squinting in the sun. Oh, Autumn, you marvel.}

+ Good luck Martha!