DAY 2 MONSOON IN SHEUNG WAN

I lost two umbrellas today… and was forced to fork out for a third. Not that an umbrella is much barrier against rain that comes at you horizontally in every direction. It rains and rains and then it buckets down. It’s beautiful when you are cozied up in a funky bar on Hollywood road and very wet when you are not.

From my corner in the Blue Butcher bar, I noticed a little boy who was being dragged along by his mother… the boy was almost floating as she pulled him along with protective purpose. His feet lightly touched down in splashes beside her. She was scowling and angled into the rain, her head filled with strategy. He was smiling. Widely. Euphorically. He had nothing but fun on his mind.

Through the deluge I managed to see a few galleries down in the Sheung Wan area. I visited Hollywood Road and Cat Street – but my favourite street was Tai Ping Shan Street where young designers had small shops filled with handmade garments, loads of vintage furniture shops and little alternative teahouses could be seen in every alley. A florist was teaching children how to arrange flowers and a man walked his eight pomeranians – each with a different coloured bow.

The one really beautiful outcome of Hong Kong in this weather is the amplification of light. There are so many lights in this city and in the rain they reflect and bounce and glow. The boy noticed this.

http://www.bluebutcher.com

http://www.ajc-art.com

http://www.apcontemporary.com

DAY 1 TANG LUNG APARTMENT

Hong Kong out my window is dreary this morning. Grey and humid and quiet. Not so last night when it was truly alive with people everywhere and buskers filling the small gaps between the sounds of traffic and the buzz of humans.

I am staying in Causeway Bay and the entrance to my building is in Tang Lung Lane which is a little alley filled with restaurants and run down buildings. It is literally a couple of hundred paces from the ultra contemporary World Square. From what I have seen so far, Hong Kong is an extraordinary mix of the old and the new. From my balcony I can see the roof tops of nearby residences that look like slums framed by shiny glass highrises with chichi mid air patios and manicured floating gardens.

My own little apartment is in a similar such block although once you come through the security gate on the street and then my security grill and bolted door - it is a little haven. One thing I find quite unsettling is that the only channel I can get with clarity on the TV is a loop of security video of the foyer and lift. I am told, however, that Hong Kong is a safe place to be and I chose to believe it.

As I was waiting for the lift last night I noticed something fluttering on the clothes line outside the window of the apartment on the floor above. On closer inspection I realized it was a long piece of fine washi paper with calligraphy on it. I wish I’d taken a photo but I will check today to see if there’s more.

MY ART QUEST

Much of the art I have studied and come to love as one would a beloved teacher, I know only from reproductions in books. This has thus far been a necessity but as I firmly believe that the entirety of the power of an art work can only be felt within physical proximity of it - I am off to seek them out.

I had planned to write this little intro well in advance of my departure but departing proved to be wholly consuming. So here I am on Day 1 of my trip in my quirky little apartment in the heart of Hong Kong. I was so tired when I lay down last night that I slept the whole night with the light on!

BRING IT ON

‘How The Light Gets In’ has taken on a life of it’s own: it’s off travelling to destinations that I have only ever dreamed of. Next week it will screen in Reykjavic and Nyheimar in Iceland. If only I could tag along with my screen effigy… 

I have been reflecting on the wide appeal of the film, which frankly, has surprised me. Not to detract from the handling of the film by its makers which was a magnificent thing, but the story itself is only my little one.

Could it be that in moving through life we are surprised by how hard it can be. The idea that joy can fill the cracks left by sorrow is such a heartening one. ‘This too shall pass’ is a motto that should be tattooed behind our eyelids, as we do tend to forget this in times of grief.

The upside of a life filled with experiences wide and deep is that you, by your emotional exposure, become more you. I can’t think of a way to say this without sounding corny… but listening to an interview yesterday, I heard the words I covet from Andrea Molino, composer and conductor from Turin.

Interviewer: Where did the person that you are now come from? How did all of this start to happen?

Molino: I love using the word necessity - which is something completely intuitive, completely emotional… so I don’t have a rational explanation for that. All what I do comes from the feeling that… after a number of experiences; of reading books, meeting people, reflecting, having experiences… that I ‘need’ to do this.

Interviewer: Have you had disasters in your life?

Molino: Oh yes, of course. My feeling is that the amount of joy you are allowed to feel is also related to the amount of pain that you experience in your life… and I am not afraid of pain… not at all.

Interviewer: Aren’t you?

Molino: No, I am not.

I have transcribed this as best I can – Molino’s words have such a resonance for me. They help me to further recognise how my ‘need’ to create allows me to find gifts in life’s darker moments. His final line (imagine Italian accent) was delivered with defiance and daring… it gave me the impression that had he been American, he might have said ‘Bring it on!’

I hasten to add that Molino went on to request a piece of music: Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony – otherwise known in part as ‘Ode to Joy’.

So give me all you've got life – Bring it on!

THE DIVIDED HEART

What a rewarding experience The Divided Heart has been for me. The show was a collaboration between myself and a group of talented friends and my first attempt at facilitating a group show. The project was not without its challenges and there were moments for all of us that were deeply difficult but then, most truly good things are hard won.

This show - The Divided Heart, takes its name from a written work by Rachel Power*. Power’s work is a collection of interviews with creative professionals who are also mothers. It reveals the various ways that artists navigate a balance between the two things they treasure most in this world: their ability to create and their families. I must re-iterate that both these precious entities would have a woman's undivided attention... 

Throughout the preparation for The Divided Heart I discovered that we each experienced the relationship between motherhood and creativity differently. For some of us the act of nurturing infuses and informs our work: weaving itself into the themes. For some of us the practice of art is a melancholy, solitary experience that counters and restocks the part of our self that enfolds and offers to others.

For me, one cannot be without the other. The best mother I can be is the one who has been creatively challenged: and the best artist I can be is the one who has experienced the depths of humanity that a family takes you to. And yet the experiences are quite separate; my creativity requires solitude and family is about everything I crave after I have been alone.

Here is a bit about each of us:

Amy Jenkin is one of the most talented people I know. She is also one of the most practical... and complex. She infuses her practicality with such exquisite feeling, beautiful imagery and rich stories... and such immense love for her family and friends. Here is a picture of one of her pieces from 'The Journey Series'.

Petra Timmermann has aesthetic running through her veins - though she will swear that she doesn't. I hope she doesn't mind me saying but she was so full of doubt about this body of work. Now, looking back at the initial ideas, I can see that she realised exactly what she had conceived from the beginning. Her photographs are constructed from her imagination and as a good photographer does... she makes the opportunities happen.

I met Claire Le May only a couple of years ago and I have become such an admirer. Her work seems to me to be such a natural extension of her self. It documents the loving moments shared within a family but does so with such a honesty and daring and quirk. Shown here is her wax 'kisses' included in the show- and her sand sculptures which form part of her process for the show and lasted only until the tide took them.

Megan Paterson is a dear old friend with whom I have always been able to share the arts. When she posted this self portrait on instagram - I knew she would be an important part of this show. Her photographs feel the world around her which, for the moment, is strange. She is a new mother living in a foreign country; exploring and observing and making pictures.

And me: I wanted to use this opportunity outside of the commercial gallery space, to experiment with sculpture... and I ended up with a video. 'The Waves' is about textures and perpetual motion. Swimming in the ocean I feel alive: I feel overwhelmed, alongside a sense of joy. Motherhood is like this - it takes my energy and generates it at the same time.

And this is us Amy Jenkin, Me, Petra Timmermann and Claire Le May (missing Megan Paterson who was somewhere over the Pacific at this moment) ... we are old friends and new friends and artists and mothers... and boy, did we enjoy that vino on opening night!

A BIT ABOUT ART PRIZES

I am happy to report that my success/rejection ratio for art prizes was higher this year! It is such a buzz to find out that you have been selected as a finalist for a prize and that the rationale that you have cleverly devised as a consolation in case of rejection will not be needed after all.

Having said that, I do realise that selection is dependent entirely on the taste of the judges and often there are only a few spots left for emerging artists once the big names have shuffled into position... as such there is a great degree of luck involved in selection.

A small but fiesty painting, Had I the Heavens, was selected as a finalist in the Calleen Prize in Cowra. My family and I drove out there for the weekend and stayed on a farm and fell in love with the place. The painting has now travelled off to its new home in Cullenagh, Laois in Ireland. Would like to follow...

The Hazards of Love, went off to Albany on the far south west corner of this great land. It has been a long time since I have explored the streets of Albany and I would cherish the opportunity again. My painting was purchased and will stay there so perhaps I will get to visit it one day. The exhibition has been a great success with over 4000 visitors expected through. It runs until October 29 at The Albany Town Hall.

Marin, was selected as a finalist in the Paddington Art Prize where it was hung in very good company at Mary Place. It is a painting about a very special little angel who's light can be seen across the ocean. Tim Johnson took out the main award for 2013 with beautiful and whimsical work called Faraway.

I also had two little works selected for the Northbridge Art Prize - so all in all a bit of good fortune has blown my way this year.

Now I have to put my head down and focus on getting myself ready for upcoming exhibitions at Charles Hewitt Gallery and Gaffa - the year is not out yet