Without taking massive shots of the whole kitchen, here are the basics:
The hand-cut teapot (Salamanca) is next to the main bench.
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Friday, 5 April 2013
Kitchen Art
This week has been rather domestic. I've been trying to make my surroundings more Me and less It'll Do. Monday morning, I started printing out lots of photos of my nieces and nephews, and finally finished that process Thursday morning. I found a few more arty shots I wanted printed as well. Two of these were 'kitchen-appropriate' - one, a pear just catching the afternoon light; the other, the remnants of a beetroot salad. I also bought, several years ago now, a print from Ruby Victoria (find her blog here) at the Salamanca Markets. It's been propped up against a wall ever since. I took it along with me yesterday to find a frame. And, yippee! - Myer is having a sale on frames. Score.
Without taking massive shots of the whole kitchen, here are the basics:
The hand-cut teapot (Salamanca) is next to the main bench.
The pear is above the fruit bowl (couldn't resist a Hipstamatic photo of this!).
The remains of a salad are still homeless, but right now propped up next to the coffee machine area.
The dozens of nephew and niece photos are now strung up in the living area, and about to be stuck on a wall by the upper stairs. They make me smile so much!
Without taking massive shots of the whole kitchen, here are the basics:
The hand-cut teapot (Salamanca) is next to the main bench.
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
The Consolation of Art
For the whole holidays, I've been feeling like I almost have a cold. Today, it hit. Which was especially mean, as I was looking forward to some auntie time. With my ears producing dizziness, blocked-up feelings and pain, I wasn't going to be doing any musical activities. I thought about doing some paper craft things, but I've been feeling like painting for a little while - especially since watching Frida. Now, there's a massive square canvas that has been sitting behind the keyboard for some time, and a few students have asked when I will finally paint it, and some friends have commented impatiently also. But there are 3 canvases I've had for even longer that I thought should be dealt with first. I had a fiddle around with dimensions and ideas, and then I started painting.
In the process of inspiration, I turned to the creative site, Redbubble. I joined it by accident last year and, after spending many hours trawling beautiful images, I now only stop by occasionally. After looking at a few beautiful images today, I decided to add 3 new photos to my portfolio. Anyway, I found an artist with paintings that made me want to create something similar, and I started painting. Of course, as soon as the paint started moving on the canvas, my ideas of what should take shape changed immediately. Partly, I think, because one of the images I uploaded was from Mt Isa, and the blue seemed to be the same sky blue.
This painting will replace another largely-blue work, at the top of the stairs. I think. At present, that area looks like this:
One of the challenges of this canvas is the dimensions: 15x60 inches. Most of the ideas I've had look screwy in this dimension, and this is the first time I've attempted this.
Another challenge today was the paint supply. Once I knew this was an outback Australian sky I was painting, I wanted to do the ochre of the landscape. Problem: no large supply of yellow paint, and only small shots of yellow ochre. Solution: use up the last of the true red, mixed with green. Weird, but I'm more pleased with the result than I expected.
So far, it looks like this:
I know it needs a little something, and at this stage I often freeze, not wanting to stuff it up. I foresee a trip to the paint store so I have plenty of supplies with which to paint over mistakes (or, experiments that don't cut it). My idea for the middle is looking less and less likely...
Today's photo:
Similar to yesterday's... but this time with sunlight. We had a few hours of not-totally-overcast in the middle of the day, and the light caught the raindrops like crystals.
In the process of inspiration, I turned to the creative site, Redbubble. I joined it by accident last year and, after spending many hours trawling beautiful images, I now only stop by occasionally. After looking at a few beautiful images today, I decided to add 3 new photos to my portfolio. Anyway, I found an artist with paintings that made me want to create something similar, and I started painting. Of course, as soon as the paint started moving on the canvas, my ideas of what should take shape changed immediately. Partly, I think, because one of the images I uploaded was from Mt Isa, and the blue seemed to be the same sky blue.
This painting will replace another largely-blue work, at the top of the stairs. I think. At present, that area looks like this:
Another challenge today was the paint supply. Once I knew this was an outback Australian sky I was painting, I wanted to do the ochre of the landscape. Problem: no large supply of yellow paint, and only small shots of yellow ochre. Solution: use up the last of the true red, mixed with green. Weird, but I'm more pleased with the result than I expected.
So far, it looks like this:
Today's photo:
Friday, 6 July 2012
Movie #18 - Frida
I watched Frida last week, over 2 nights, and very much enjoyed it. It would have been very annoying for anyone watching this with me - I
take notes when watching movies now, and so a 2 hour movie can take substantially longer. It has taken a bit to digest Frida though, a process I suspect will continue for some time. Right now, it's still unfocused in my head so I'm hoping writing this will help it settle. I wonder if watching this movie is totally different for non-creative types? Well, it must be, as everyone sees things differently depending on their situation. It would be interesting to be someone else though to see this movie from a different perspective.
I like seeing things. I've noticed that if there is a lot of dialogue, I notice less visually. (Incidentally, I just watched the episode of NCIS which includes the line from my sub-heading; I've also been reading a Jasper Fforde book which includes descriptions of the RealWorld from a BookWorld perspective - the narrator is amazed at how much detail is in the backgrounds. I was on high alert for backgrounds while watching the show). While there was a lot to absorb aurally, the visuals were so well done in Frida. Which is a good thing for a movie about artists. The way in which Frida's artwork was incorporated into the movie was seamless and so clever, and the camera work - mwah. Actually, the first thing I noticed was the setting. One of my favourite authors is Isabel Allende, and the setting, particularly of the parents' house in Mexico City, was just like looking into my mental image of many of Allende's books.
There were four things about the messages in the movie that stood out for me. 1 - relationships. 2 - why we do art. 3 - life isn't perfect, it's how we live it that matters. 4 - you can achieve as much as you think you can achieve.
1. Seeing the way marriage is approached - from a Mexican, Communist, artistic, early 20th century viewpoint - was interesting. Especially for someone who is artistic, single, and who plays at weddings. Frequently. I know that relationships can work - my parents are still together after more than 4 decades, and I have other couples in my circle who look like they'll be together forever. But I'm single, and I have many couples in my circle who have not remained together forever. And, playing at weddings, you can get very cynical. Aside from the soppy vows and princess syndrome, if cracks are evident to outsiders on the wedding day, it doesn't bode well for a long and happy life together. Not to mention the statistical likelihood of divorce. There were a few lines in this movie that caused me to pause and write down the quote. The first was at Frida and Diego's wedding, from a Communist Party guest: "Marriage is, at worst, a hostile political act, a way for small-minded men to keep women in the house and out of the way, wrapped in the guise of tradition and conservative religious nonsense. At best, it is a happy delusion, these two people who truly love each other and have no idea how miserable they are about to make each other". In this current climate, it's probably not quite so much the first option - although it's not out of the question - and I would hope it's not really too much the latter. But I guess it depends on your choice of partner.
Frida entered into this marriage fully aware of her new husband's character. She knew he was a womaniser. Early on, she asked her father "What do you think is important for a good marriage?" "A short memory" is his reply. But, after one of many 'indiscretions', which happen too often to be slipped under the rug of a short memory, she says she cannot love him for what he is not. And, she loves him (sometimes, in that very passionate borderline love-hate way). Women, of course, see love and fidelity differently. We want to find a Leon Trotsky (maybe not with the affair-with-the-artist bit, but nobody's perfect), "someone who's willing to sacrifice a little of his own pleasure instead of hurting the woman who loves him". The fact that Diego comes back to her late in life and is true to the end made me cry, to be honest. How lovely - but how frustrating! Maybe creative men can only be true when they've had all their (extensive) running-around time. And what that means for me... it can be a little disheartening. But, moving on. I'm going to jump to numbers 3 and 4 here.
3. Even though Frida had a challenging life - a traumatic accident, a life of physical pain, a philandering husband, being an artist - she really lived. She really loved. (4) - She set her own goals, based on her own ideas for her life. Doctors telling her she would never walk again did not stop her from walking again. Society saying young women should marry and reproduce did not stop her dancing a tango with another woman (and more...), marrying late and not having any children (except for one who died at birth). She lived her life and endured much more than she thought she could. There were some things that seem to be universal, though. Infidelity hurts. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. The kitchen is the best place to get to know someone, and cooking is a great way to bond, even if it's with your husband's ex-wife who is living upstairs and still cooking him breakfast. Our hopes and expectations are two different things: we can hope to marry someone who will be faithful, but if we expect it we will be disappointed.
2 - I could really identify with Frida's drive for art. My most productive practice sessions, and inspiring or passionate performances, all come from emotion. As someone who has a generally ordinary life, this can be a bit of a drag. But that need to turn to a creative outlet - a bit like the 'pensieve' that Dumbledore uses in Harry Potter - is such a huge part of life, a natural reaction. How do non-creative types deal with heartbreak??? And not just as a way to deal with what life throws at you. "If you're a real painter you'll paint because you can't live without painting, you'll paint til you die". Of course, this also comes with the existential angst with which I am well-acquainted - "My little paintings can't mean anything to anyone but me". On one level, there is little purpose in what we do - at least, in terms of furthering humanity (we're not curing cancer or anything) - but there is something to be said for creative expression which connects us and makes us feel.
Writing this has helped the digestive process, as hoped. Accept others for who they are, with all their blessings and faults; live your own life the best way you can; live as much as you can; do what you are driven to do and you will have lived your life well; happiness and fulfillment are not the same thing. And, perhaps, make sure you can cook.
Nearly forgot the photo for today:
Winter sunlight hitting the last pear and lemon in the bowl.
I like seeing things. I've noticed that if there is a lot of dialogue, I notice less visually. (Incidentally, I just watched the episode of NCIS which includes the line from my sub-heading; I've also been reading a Jasper Fforde book which includes descriptions of the RealWorld from a BookWorld perspective - the narrator is amazed at how much detail is in the backgrounds. I was on high alert for backgrounds while watching the show). While there was a lot to absorb aurally, the visuals were so well done in Frida. Which is a good thing for a movie about artists. The way in which Frida's artwork was incorporated into the movie was seamless and so clever, and the camera work - mwah. Actually, the first thing I noticed was the setting. One of my favourite authors is Isabel Allende, and the setting, particularly of the parents' house in Mexico City, was just like looking into my mental image of many of Allende's books.
There were four things about the messages in the movie that stood out for me. 1 - relationships. 2 - why we do art. 3 - life isn't perfect, it's how we live it that matters. 4 - you can achieve as much as you think you can achieve.
1. Seeing the way marriage is approached - from a Mexican, Communist, artistic, early 20th century viewpoint - was interesting. Especially for someone who is artistic, single, and who plays at weddings. Frequently. I know that relationships can work - my parents are still together after more than 4 decades, and I have other couples in my circle who look like they'll be together forever. But I'm single, and I have many couples in my circle who have not remained together forever. And, playing at weddings, you can get very cynical. Aside from the soppy vows and princess syndrome, if cracks are evident to outsiders on the wedding day, it doesn't bode well for a long and happy life together. Not to mention the statistical likelihood of divorce. There were a few lines in this movie that caused me to pause and write down the quote. The first was at Frida and Diego's wedding, from a Communist Party guest: "Marriage is, at worst, a hostile political act, a way for small-minded men to keep women in the house and out of the way, wrapped in the guise of tradition and conservative religious nonsense. At best, it is a happy delusion, these two people who truly love each other and have no idea how miserable they are about to make each other". In this current climate, it's probably not quite so much the first option - although it's not out of the question - and I would hope it's not really too much the latter. But I guess it depends on your choice of partner.
Frida entered into this marriage fully aware of her new husband's character. She knew he was a womaniser. Early on, she asked her father "What do you think is important for a good marriage?" "A short memory" is his reply. But, after one of many 'indiscretions', which happen too often to be slipped under the rug of a short memory, she says she cannot love him for what he is not. And, she loves him (sometimes, in that very passionate borderline love-hate way). Women, of course, see love and fidelity differently. We want to find a Leon Trotsky (maybe not with the affair-with-the-artist bit, but nobody's perfect), "someone who's willing to sacrifice a little of his own pleasure instead of hurting the woman who loves him". The fact that Diego comes back to her late in life and is true to the end made me cry, to be honest. How lovely - but how frustrating! Maybe creative men can only be true when they've had all their (extensive) running-around time. And what that means for me... it can be a little disheartening. But, moving on. I'm going to jump to numbers 3 and 4 here.
3. Even though Frida had a challenging life - a traumatic accident, a life of physical pain, a philandering husband, being an artist - she really lived. She really loved. (4) - She set her own goals, based on her own ideas for her life. Doctors telling her she would never walk again did not stop her from walking again. Society saying young women should marry and reproduce did not stop her dancing a tango with another woman (and more...), marrying late and not having any children (except for one who died at birth). She lived her life and endured much more than she thought she could. There were some things that seem to be universal, though. Infidelity hurts. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. The kitchen is the best place to get to know someone, and cooking is a great way to bond, even if it's with your husband's ex-wife who is living upstairs and still cooking him breakfast. Our hopes and expectations are two different things: we can hope to marry someone who will be faithful, but if we expect it we will be disappointed.
2 - I could really identify with Frida's drive for art. My most productive practice sessions, and inspiring or passionate performances, all come from emotion. As someone who has a generally ordinary life, this can be a bit of a drag. But that need to turn to a creative outlet - a bit like the 'pensieve' that Dumbledore uses in Harry Potter - is such a huge part of life, a natural reaction. How do non-creative types deal with heartbreak??? And not just as a way to deal with what life throws at you. "If you're a real painter you'll paint because you can't live without painting, you'll paint til you die". Of course, this also comes with the existential angst with which I am well-acquainted - "My little paintings can't mean anything to anyone but me". On one level, there is little purpose in what we do - at least, in terms of furthering humanity (we're not curing cancer or anything) - but there is something to be said for creative expression which connects us and makes us feel.
Writing this has helped the digestive process, as hoped. Accept others for who they are, with all their blessings and faults; live your own life the best way you can; live as much as you can; do what you are driven to do and you will have lived your life well; happiness and fulfillment are not the same thing. And, perhaps, make sure you can cook.
Nearly forgot the photo for today:
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