lo, how a rose

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detail : roses linger beneath layers of ink

How touched I am this Christmas to be reminded of the beautiful German hymn,
Es Ist Ein Ros Entsprungen.  I am in the midst of  my new work- roses that speak of the presence of love in the midst of darkness. The words of this song speak of how love remains tender and vulnerable even as it provides antidote to what is harsh and violent.
Listen to, and watch the Gesualdo Six perform their beautiful rendition here.

a repetition of roses

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I have taken as reference my own photos of roses and am hand transposing the shapes and contours onto large paper and working with ink. I have a love of repetition- perhaps it was having visited fabric stores with my mother and gazing at myriads of patterns. I look at what is emerging in these pieces and I think of the interior of home, of the heart; stars, voices, faces, love; graffiti on the Reichstag, the Vietnam war memorial in Washington; I think of Germans who died- especially women – who sought to resist the Nazis through humanitarian means.

learning to paint


It is wonderful that social media helps keep us in reach of our audience, but I admit to being somewhat torn about posting often; it seems contrary to the instinct of nesting, nurture and privacy that go along with developing a body of work.
I am at the beginning of a new exploration – one that is absorbing and which needs time to mature and form itself. I am researching and sketching, thinking and feeling my way into a new series.
I am also learning to paint. The last workshop I attended with John Luna at the beginning of August allowed me to at last feel that painting “is my own” even if it is feels unfamiliar and often awkward. It is a tremendous learning curve and one that at once challenges and nurtures my artistic instinct and mind.
Contrary to what is a very wise and useful approach- that of working on a number of pieces at once- these few weeks I have been working with one painting that I began as a part of a set of 3 at the workshop. It has filled my mind, with I and others, often thinking it close to finished but then it has asked more of me.
It occurred to me that this painting is like a mother- one that is teaching me a lot and allowing me to explore the problems of composition, colour, texture, narrative, abstraction and symbolism. I at once think it the most wonderful painting in the world and the most horrible thing I have ever seen!
The painting has been set aside now and the skills I have learned from it will inform the other two paintings I began at that workshop and even paintings I began last summer which have waited for me to gain more knowledge and confidence. Perhaps after a good rest, my eyes will be wiser and the painting will speak to me again as to what it might want, if anything at all.

father’s work


Art by my father on Fathers Day. The ancient Chinese described war horses as dragons in disguise. I see that in this small piece of art I have from my father. He was a blacksmith. Horses, the sound of the hammer and anvil, the black coal and flames of the forge and the steam from the red hot iron in water, were all contained in our tiny backyard.
This piece from my childhood was returned to me only last year from Australia, and while taking these pictures, I realised how much it has influenced my own war horse.

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As curator for the Stairwell Gallery I am absolutely thrilled with the work BOXCARSIX produced in response to the themes embedded in the Easter story.  Their work brings a depth of understanding and originality  to a time of year that like Christmas, can easily be taken for granted.
Read more about the work here, and follow BOXCARSIX on Instagram.