Photos – J Forsyth

Top Arts- The Valley Of Unfinished Heavens.  The Ian Potter Centre, NGV Australia at Federation Square

It is the current exhibition of Top Arts recipients that threw me into such a time warp.  A trip that was incredibly cringe-worthy and touching.

‘’If I do not make it into top arts I am giving up art.’’ I spoke these words of youthful determination one Tuesday afternoon after school in The Visual arts building of Bendigo Senior Secondary College. My friend Mira and I were 16 and working on our Studio Art folios.

The year was 1999. I did not get into Top Arts though my series of three portraits of Winona Ryder completed in tiny dots make by sharpie markers did win second prize in a lunch time art show that was judged by the curator of The Bendigo Art Gallery.

These days  Mira has yet to respond to the facebook friend request, I sent eight months ago. I hear she has recently completed a PHD. No bad feeling there just the force of life pushing us in opposite directions.

I arrived at The Ian Potter Centre to check out the young art talent and to hear the first of a new intiative called ‘’Free Thursdays’’ in which artists talk about their own professional practice and impart some wisdom to those less experienced. This particular Thursday the artists Miso and Ghost Patrol would be leading a discussion about how they become professional artists.

It is said that F. Scott Fitzgerald’s first novel, This Side Of Paradise, was a novel written by a young man trying to find his writer’s voice. It is because of this that his first novel is considered his weakest not yet possessed of the poise and pitch perfection of his following works that include The Great Gatsby.  This could be said for the works in the top arts exhibition.  A multitude of half -finished heavens and yet- to- be -fully realized ideals and expressions. It is what you would expect from art created by individuals with yet- to- be- fully- formed frontal lobes.

One particular photography piece I stood in front of for a while in engrossed delight, showed over twenty tiny items carefully photographed with meticulous attention to detail was pretty and sweet in celebrating the beauty of seemingly insignificant objects including a wristwatch, a ring, a rubber duck. All photographed in front of a bright white back round making the colours of the objects pop out at you.

A series of four A4 colour ink jet print photographs by Tess Saunders show four separate explorations in appropriation with a delicious sense of irreverence and mischief that I hope the young artist retains and further developes as she progresses as an artist. The photos are entitled as follows: American Gothic, Girl With Pearl Earring, Mona Lisa and The Anolfini Marriage. Each photo shows the young artist recreating well known art works in modern surroundings and using herself as art and artist.   The setting of the wedding photo was a teenage bedroom void of the white dress and tux; instead the young couple tied the knot in skinny jeans and Converse All Stars, looking non-plussed as a small white stuffed dog sits at their feet.

A painting that seemed like it would beat me if I tried to pick a fight with it was entitled  Inside Of A Heart by Lucy Simpson.  The incredible close up of the heart’s inner works covered a vast spectrum of pinks and reds. It was almost too difficult to look at directly so disarming was the intensity of the size. It was as if had I stood close enough I would have been sucked right into the fluffy and tender tissue of the painting and been trapped inside the heart forever.  It made me wonder exactly how she had completed the work.

Was inspiration taken from human anatomy books or had she actually gone to a butcher and sourced a pig or cow heart as a visual study?  It is a first assumption that the ‘’heart’’ depicted in the painting is that of a human, particularly a young teenage girl type human, but perhaps we are not giving Misss Simpson enough credit.  Perhaps this is a work that explores the concept of equalizing animal heart and human heart it is all the same and as such should we not perhaps eat less of things we can be sure once had a beating heart within its body?  Perhaps this seemingly emo type painting, emo because it deals so openly with the muscle associated with deep feelings of love and angst ridden adolescence.  Perhaps this painting is actually a rally cry to eat more greens and assorted vegetables.  With these contemplations still dancing inside my grey matter, I move on to the next work that has caught my attention.

A story board of nine post card sized works in black felt tip was more illustration than anything else and could be imagined put together as a picture book in the vein of Graeme Base. It follows the search for an ‘’idea.’’  The work is entitled ‘’Quest’’ and shows high standards of drawing ability within the young artist but the idea that gets found resembles a large round ball that could be mistaken for a representation of the young artist’s ego or the inflated ego of  Damien Hirst one of the brattiest Young British Artists ever, in my opinion.

The Top Arts exhibition grabbed me by the heart strings of a 17-year old version of myself long buried and forgotten.  I noticed small groups of young intrepid art lovers start to enter the gallery and walk around sipping from glass bottles of organic soft drink.   Quotes from students shown in the exhibition were presented on the vast white walls, advising on the merits of art for art’s sake and not confining your creative output to what you think will result in a ‘’top mark.’’ I spoke to one young man who was now in first year visual arts at RMIT. His contribution to the exhibition was a repetitive series of the same cartoonish face painted onto various pieces of cardboard. I saw evidence of inspiration by street art. This inspiration in my opinion, had not been executed in a way that made you feel like you had just been shown a deeper view inside the workings of humanity.  He had no quotes on the walls and when I asked him about this he candidly replied, ‘I did not say anything wanky enough.’

As we talked, gallery attendents had been setting up the main foyer with floor cushions arranged in front of three arm chairs.

I joined the teens and was clever enough to get a cushion at the back so I could lean against a white wall for optimum comfort.  My eyes roved the room observing the shiny young boys and girls sitting in clusters of three or two.  A line from a song by The Hold Steady came to mind, ‘’And they all looked like little lambs looking up at me.’’   These kids were so full of the future promised them that it was truly lovely simply to be amongst that hopefulness. It tip toed throughout the room and enshrouded everything.

Miso and Ghost Patrol shared their experiences and at first the conversation was rather stilted and they both needed to be prompted by the discussion facilitator, a program officer of the National Gallery Of Victoria by the name of Ace.  It only took a few moments for the two artists to warm up to the idea that they were there to impart their wisdom to young and very enthusiastic pro- art hopefuls.

’I never felt being an artist was a very real thing. Where I grew up there were no galleries. I actually considered being a fashion designer because that was a job I knew existed, ’’ Miso explains in a soft and rather lilting voice. She tells of starting to make stencil designs at the age of 14 and being heavily inspired by the punk ethos of DIY.  ‘’Not going to art school was a very conscious decision for me. I studied philosophy and loved it.’’ Miso explained that a vast majority of her paid art work came from networking.  ‘If you have an artist you admire ask them if you can help them out for free. They are not going to say no. Talk to people at art openings. I used to think that as long as you were a brilliant artist you could afford to be difficult. I no longer feel this way.  You are much more likely to get work if you’re good to talk to and reliable. People will remember they had a good time talking to you and will tell other artists. I have gotten so much work just from talking to people in pubs after art shows.’

At this a young man raises his hand and asks with sincere eagerness, ’Which pubs exactly?’

Ghost Patrol’s advice contrasts quite beautifully with Miso’s. Hearing them speak brings to mind human ying and yang and it is this diversity of character that probably fuels their collaborative art wonderfully. I suppose you would not want to work with someone who was your creative twin, as nothing new would emerge.

‘’I would rather not network,‘’ he says. ‘’I would rather stay in my room drawing and painting and then stay in my room some more drawing and painting. I am heavily indebted to having a website where I can just photograph everything I create and place it on the website. It is how I get 98 percent of my work.‘’ When asked when he discovered he could make a living as an artist he replied with a  smile. ‘I simply kept calling in sick to work to get art work finished and eventually lost my job. ‘’   Art and the social media world have been bed fellows in increasing popularity as it makes it very easy for people of all skill sets to  share their creations. This is not always a good thing as it results in a lot of art becoming formalized , another form of branding and dumbing down for easy digestion.  Ghost patrol elaborates on this point by saying, ‘A lot of social media art is selling you as a brand.  A lot of people are making very contrived versions of their art.‘

‘’Are independent artists such as yourself hindering financial gain within the commercial gallery enterprise?’’ A young woman asked. Ghost Patrol became incredibly passionate. ‘‘Commercial galleries are a business like any other business like major record companies who churn out music like its pre -packaged no -name brand cereal.  There is no love for the individuality of creation. They care about what sells and what sells to a wider market. If you do your art and sell it yourself you are cutting out the middle man and that can only be a good thing.’’

As I sat there listening to these two artists, an unfamiliar feeling was creeping over me and taking hold of my hands. I felt my brain and fingers get a long- forgotten itch, the itch to draw again.  As the discussion had been progressing the daylight had slowly faded into evening. The gallery was now illuminated with artificial lights and Federation Square was now lit up by the fairy lights that resembled low hanging stars.  The teens now held empty bottles of soft drink. They were starting to look at their phones. It was time to wind it up.  Which the facilitator of the conversation did brilliantly by using the analogy of a well known video game. ‘’When creating your art you could be inspired by the story of two young people in their basement creating a video game that they wanted to play where you ran around shooting stuff. The video game these young people created was called Doom and it turned out that it was a video game that millions of people around the world also enjoyed. Chances are if you feel strongly enough about something that you want to make it or paint it, other people will appreciate it.’’   Ghost Patrol had the last word: ‘‘It is an absolute privilidge to make art.’’

After disposing of their glass bottles, the bearers of personal unfinished heavens, scattered home, with inspired confidence.

I go home to check if  ‘’Mira’’ has accepted my friend request, but decide instead to draw in a long ago purchased sketchbook.

For more information check out NGV website

Photos – J Forsyth

 Yarra Ranges Regional Museum, 35-37 Castella St Lilydale

This post is brought to you by the word: Iconic. And rightly so. The cover of Rolling Stone magazine is absolutely a cultural icon, graced by iconic figures, designed by iconic psychedelic artist Rick Griffin, photographed and illustrated by the eminent Annie Leibovitz and Ralph Steadman, many of these covers have come to define an era.

So if it’s a historical trip back in time that you’re after, then you’ve got it with ‘Rolling Stone: The Covers 1972 – 2010.’ For this reason, it’s also fitting that the exhibition is being held at the Yarra Ranges Regional Museum. It’s not just a showcasing of well-designed magazines; each cover tells a story of its own. Whether it is Kurt Cobain, Yoko Ono, Paul Keating, Janet Jackson, Fleetwood Mac, The Spice Girls or Jim Morrison, it’s also a chronological story of so much that has been the make up of popular culture over the past forty years.  

We Melbourne Arts Club folk headed out to Lilydale for a special evening viewing this past Thursday and on arrival our not-quite-winter-but-still-cold blues, the rain and the peak hour traffic frustration were overshadowed by the free wine, tasty canapés, and the always cool sound of Nirvana playing in the background. The crowd was a mix of all ages, who were cool, but not too cool to get in on some guitar hero action upstairs in The Studio, where you could also take the opportunity to check out some excellent rock photography from the likes of Kate Griffin and Kane Hibberd.

Whether you believe the title for Rolling Stone was taken from the Muddy Waters song ‘Rollin’ Stone,’ or Bob Dylan’s ‘Like a Rollin’ Stone,’ it doesn’t really matter. What is on display here a magazine that was born out of the heartland of American counter-culture, that has offered designers and photographers (and journalists – Rolling Stone’s success is certainly also attributed to its quality journalism) a canvas to work on in a way that has seen the covers come to symbolise just as much as the superstars that adorn them.  But undoubtedly the coolest things about ‘Rolling Stone: The Covers,’ is the opportunity to take the journey back through pop culture and see how it has evolved over the decades.

Rolling Stone: The Covers 1972 – 2010 runs until the 7^th of July.

More details at www.yarraranges.vic.gov.au

Knight St Art Space, Victoria street, Footscray

Recently while meandering through Footscray (by meandering I mean I was kind of hoping the weird hot barista was working where I get coffee) I stopped to check out Knight St Art Space.  I have heard of and driven past the space a number of times but never stopped in.  An old shop converted into a gallery and studios in the lesser busy part of Footscray, boardering Seddon.

KSAS is a non-profit artist-run exhibition space explained on their website to be “curated via extended dialogue between artists, intending to create new avenues for collaboration and result in original and conceptually cohesive bodies of work.”   Now that is the type of art speak I like.  Concise and descriptive with out flowery wank talk that my brain refuses to understand.

While visiting the space I had a chat to one of the exhibiting artist’s Georgina Glanville.  The exhibition was Succulent, boasting to celebrate the sexiness of plants.   Bloody awesome I say, the exhibition was different and vibrant and Georgie was relaxed and interesting.  I chatted to the dude that runs the whole shebang also, but I have forgotten his name.  It’s wondourous to get so much from one small gallery visit.

We all know art in the west is alive and kicking and KSAS is another excellent representation.

Check out the website for opening times, up-coming exhibitions and proposals.

Photos -  J Forsyth

For the Love of Stuff, Brunswick Street Gallery, Brunswick Street Fitzroy

A watch passed down from a grandmother represents family ties, and links to a trajectory of tradition and personal history. A collection of baseball hats evolves into the representation of an outgrown dream of becoming a sports star as well as a reminiscent, and constant reminder of youthful days long passed by. A small stone or shell can recall a lifetime of travel and adventure. Ticket stubs remind of a glory-filled concert spent with a long-ago loved one.

Though transient in nature and often mundane in appearance, the objects in our lives become imbued with value and representation.

Six different artists presented work in Brunswick Street Gallery’s recent exhibition, for the love of stuff (curated by Miriam Arbus). With work spanning different mediums, artists Pimpisa Tinpalit, Georgina Matherson, J Forsyth, Michele Newman, Becky Richards and Yuan Wang create an intricate exploration of the spectrum of nuanced relationships that occur between person and object. Encompassing the breadth that exists between nostalgia, attachment and memory, for the love of stuff examines how objects become embodiments (or obsessions) of emotions and ideas.

Jo Scicluna ‘When Our Horizons Meet’  Centre for Contemporary Photography, 404 George Street, Fitzroy.

CCP, a favorite gallery of Melbourne Arts Club (and me personally) is never short of excellent and diverse exhibitions.  Jo Scicluna’s show  ‘When Our Horizons Meet’ is no exception.

As I am a better photographer than I am a writer I won’t try and use words, my own or others to describe the show.  With the okay of the curator I took some shots of the space and the works for you to see.  More information on the show can be found at ccc.org.au, or just get down and experience it for yourself.

Of course, there are a number of other interesting shows on including public programs and artist talks.  Ask at the desk when you visit for more information and if you like what you see, make a donation, your small donations helps keep the gallery running.

Jo Scicluna ‘When our horizons meet’ is on at CCP until May 19, 2013.

Photos - J Forsyth

Hipster please – an exposé no Driz-A-bone, tattoo, skinny jean or anorak should miss

Surely you noticed it was Loreal Melbourne Fashion Festival just last week (LMFF)?  Melbourne was littered with people going to events to see fashion and be seen in fashion. Patrons sported curated outfits bordering on fancy dress, with no nod to weather conditions and little chance of that outfit ever being worn in totality again. Generally, the effect these marauding fashion packs have on me is to decide to take a scorched earth policy toward my wardrobe and start all over again.

I didn’t attend any events, but in true expose style, that shall not stop me. After all, I live in Melbourne, I wear clothes daily, and I’ve been style blogged twice*. This makes me an expert.  Also, if I were to call up talk back radio, I could quickly be considered a ‘fashion expert’ just by saying I am. After all, talk back radio so often covers the big fashion issues, such as what Julia Gillard is wearing and whether it’s her choice of jacket or her hair do that is her biggest failing as Prime Minister, and the obvious catalyst for Australia’s imminent decline.

While I did not attend LMFF, I did observe groups of young women fashioning the shit out of the latest fluoro pant, bun and sequin combos in pursuit of LMFF glory. And what a sight! Melbourne is a great city to live in if you love fashion. Even in non-fashion-event weeks, you’ll encounter endless streams of fabulously dressed people, most abundantly found in the city and inner suburbs.

Don’t shoot the messenger, but there exists a correlation between increasing distance from the city and how poorly outfitted people are. A line graph would perfectly illustrate this statement, however due to Melbourne Arts Club being an arts and photography blog, it’s a sackable offense to include charts, graphs or spreadsheets of any kind.

In lieu of a graph, please accept a text from my father to corroborate this hypothesis: “I’m about 70km north of Melbourne getting petrol. EVERYONE here has a mullet. Why does everyone here have a mullet? INCLUDING AN INFANT. It’s Dad here”.

And while fabulously dressed, fashion forward folks litter inner city streets, there’s a group who are also defined by their threads (plus their choice of music, art, café and bicycle) who are DIVIDING THE NATION!

HIPSTERS. And no, I am not talking about that el-cheapo retail store found at the souvenir end of Swanston Street, and selected suburban malls near you. You know the store – featuring loads of polyester and dresses for chicks trying to dress like Mischa Barton in her heyday, but coming off more like your mum in the eighties.

I’m talking about the yuppies of today –the much maligned hipsters. You know the ones. They make your coffee and man the boutiques. They’re at art openings and seeing bands – you can often spot them by their beards and buns, but most easily, it’s their intense look of nonchalance that stands them apart.

Fashion-wise, hipsters have moved through preppy, retro, rock n’ roll, vintage, lumber jack and country get ups. Many would say the hipsters’ defining characteristic is their compulsive need to have, be or do something that no one else owns, is or does. You know that old joke: how many hipsters does it take to change a light bulb? Um, it’s like a really obscure number. You probably haven’t heard of it.

So as the hipster fashion pendulum swings, you see more and more obscurity walking down a graffiti covered laneway near you, to a bar that has no name nor sign, to consume a beverage that your nanna used to drink, but in an awfully ironic  fashion. What am I getting at? Well there’s only so many vintage sweaters you can acquire while you were in Portland on your way to a summer music festival in San Fran. Looking like you rolled in superglue then jumped in a Brotherhood bin no longer cuts it. To remain a hipster, you must innovate. You must move forward. You must find obscurity and make it look effortless. This is art of the Hipster Execution Strategy – wearing something truly crap but looking cool in spite of it. I mean, how the heck do you think Driz-a-bone jackets and Rossi boots made their way onto a hipster near you? Anorak parkers? Ankle skinning pants on fellas? Giant glasses? Ned Kelly facial hair? You gotta keep it moving to keep it hip.

But have these hip young people gone too far?

For instance, a friend once complimented a dude at a bus stop on his excellent vintage jumper, only to find he was homeless rather than hipster, and that sweet sweater was either a) the last thing he ever purchased in 1987 from Fosseys or Venture before becoming a street person, or b) the most recent thing he got from the op shop and the only thing he owns.

Another pal who has quite the penchant for Ned Kelly facial hair believes it’s a minefield nowadays: “You’ve got to be so careful. One minute you’re quietly checking out that dude with the very long beard and curly locks, the next you’re catching a wiff and a getting a closer look. You’ve accidently eyed off a hobo.”

Sometimes, large groups of hobo hipsters congregate in a bid to frighten old people and provide talk back radio shock jocks with vitriolic material about the ‘youth of today’. One could be forgiven, for instance, for thinking they’d come across a hobo convention at West Brunswick’s Gillon Oval when Pub Footy is on every few Sundays in winter.

The Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that 97% of Pub Footy attendees – lady or gent – wear farm coats, tight jeans, a flanno or equivalent, boots, and accent this look with a hobo’s best friend; a mutt wearing a bandana. ALL the men have long beards and most have straggly long hair. Hairy men with dogs can also be found on a street corner near you, asking for your spare change or shouting, ‘BIG ISSUE’.

Turns out I am not the first exposer to uncover this terrible truth. Straggly hair, outta control beards with farm jackets and faded jeans have been outed by the internet.

“Hipster or hobo”, says The Internet.

“Who bloody knows?” says I (and others on The Internet).

But perhaps this is entirely the point. The hipster pendulum has swung so far that the level to which one must be obscure to be a true hipster is to emulate the look of the desperate, lonely, addicted, afflicted and ill people who find themselves homeless or similar.

And not to be a hipster basher, as really that’s so mainstream (see: Dads are the original hipsters; Look at this fucking hipster; Portlandia ), but please let this be the final iteration; the furthest the pendulum can swing before beginning again.

Otherwise, what’s next? Tranny hipster?  Hooker hipster? Zombie hipster? Surely not the latter, since zombie is strictly the domain of the goths and the emos, who we all know are defined by how much they weigh. Overweight? Become a goth. Runty? Emo it is!

But would the hipsters and the goths and the emos go to war over zombie-chic ownership? Doubtful, due to the combined nonchalance, lack of confidence and emotional toll it would take on these groups. If anyone’s gonna fight back when they get fashion-jacked, it’ll be the hookers.

A former colleague once overheard a fight between two St Kilda street lady persons on her way home from work. One was berating the other for her alleged anti-competitive oral sex pricing structure: “Fifty bucks is not enough for a blow job. Really, you’re doing a disservice to us all and I’m tellin’ ya, you’ve gotta stop it. You’ve gotta charge more cos its makin’ the rest of us look bad.” The hookers stand up for what’s theirs.

Perhaps, if The Sartorialist features a ‘street walker’**, it could start the next wave of hipster madness. After all, the internet alleges that it was The Sartorialist who posted a shot of a hobo looking good back in ’09 that started this folly. I can’t corroborate this fact, courtesy also of the internet and its most annoying feature ‘error 404; page not found’. But since I choose to believe all the things The Internet tells me, let’s blame Mr Sartorial for the current crisis of women erroneously engaging with men at bus stops, and accidently eyeing hobos instead of hotties. Good day.

*I was twice style blogged when I lived in Vancouver. Vancouver’s idea of fashion is wearing Lulu Lemon sports pants and Uggs to the office. My mum could have gotten style blogged in Vancouver. Therefore it doesn’t count.

** I searched for hooker; so far nothing.

http://melbourneartsclub.com/2012/09/07/melbourne-spring-fashion-week-weekend-rundown/

Reblogged from The Melbourne Arts Club:

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March what's on, sort of...

Words and Photos - J Forsyth (Final image credited to Jo Scicluna)

March Madness is a terrible title for an article and I do feel like I am putting together a Sam’s warehouse catalogue rather than a ‘what’s on’ in the Melbourne art scene.  However, I got up this morning and realised that March is almost over and I don’t remember it starting.

Read more… 201 more words

Words and Photos – J Forsyth (Final image credited to Jo Scicluna)

March Madness is a terrible title for an article and I do feel like I am putting together a Sam’s warehouse catalogue rather than a ‘what’s on’ in the Melbourne art scene.  However, I got up this morning and realised that March is almost over and I don’t remember it starting.

So here we are, two cups of coffee later, a minor crisis about how coffee is always too hot, and then so quickly, it’s too cold.  The optimal temperature for coffee doesn’t last long enough and this can unhinge someone who doesn’t know what month it is.

First world problems!!!

Below are a series of images of galleries I haven’t reported on before or haven’t for a while.   Check out the links attached for more details and report back to us with what you thought.

Helen Gory Gallerie – 25 St Edmonds Street, Prahran

Rtist – Next door to old mate Helen, 27 St Edmonds Street, Prahran

Arc One – 45 Flinders Lane, Melbourne

Mailbox 141 – 141 Flinders Lane, Melbourne

Sarah Scout presents – Level 1a Crossley St Melbourne

The honourable mentions for March are -

Rae and Bennett Gallery –  Bound Apart: Photography and Publishing.  Running until March 28, 2013

CCP has a few shows on the horizon but most notably Melbourne based artist Jo Scicluna’s show When our horizons meet.  Scicluna’s show will open on March 28, 6pm-8pm and run from April 3 until May 19.

Image credit -Jo Scicluna Where Nothing Is Everything 2012-2013, single channel digital video, silent, 3 mins 15 secs, dimensions variable (video still)

Words - Karla O’Connor

Photos courtesy of Belinda Rogers

Upon a visit to the studio of Yarra Valley Artist Belinda Rogers, I understand the inspiration, which rests in the mountains within which she paints and lives. Autumn trees are beginning to swell into a golden hue and the river here twists untamed through her Warburton village. It is alongside this river that a collection of works begins to emerge, and delicate Oil on linen finds its last stokes and emerges as ‘Lompagni Tree.’ Upon completion, Belinda offers the piece to the Upper Yarra Arts, during an exhibition showcasing a collection of works imitating the delicate balance of our local forests.

On the back of three solo exhibitions and an opening of a Richmond gallery last year, Belinda attempts to explain her works to me with hands that mimic the carving of her unique style of painting. She speaks with a deliberateness that denotes her devotion and belief in her work, which she explains as a symptom of prayer.

“The creative process is a private pilgrimage,” she explains. “My works attempt to reveal the fragility and persistence of mind. I have had a beautiful relationship with oil paint and I have come to understand its rhythm and timing. The nature of my work demands a patience, which did not come naturally to me. I endured in my early years, an immediate, explosive attitude of my world. Now my work demands that when I hold a vision of my canvas, I pause, walk back ten thousand steps, and paint each one into my mind, watching as they appear, as a student watches its teacher. It’s challenging because understanding the timing of creating different textures and blending colours within that texture is essential, and most of my pieces only come to completion after many months. I discovered this technique much like I discovered my own inner landscapes. What I strip away and what it is I reveal. The extensive time in front of one piece pulls me into a meditation, a kind of watching. I paint a thought, the thought must exist with the final vision, and a middle path arises somewhere between my canvass and I. It is this way with life, nor here, nor there, we float in the in-betweens seeking the only the thing that ceases our seeking.”

Belinda’s collection of painting and poetry are now mostly condensed into her illustrative work within the ‘Tales of the Lompagni Tree,’ and eighteen part children’s book that attempts to expose children to their relationship with nature in a way that draws their mind from the protagonist and present instead, a dream in which they may find their own footprints embedded in the pages. Her paintings expose the writings of ‘Pico,’ weaving worlds around his words in a mutual love of dreams and prayer. ‘Pico and The Dreaming Seed’ will release the first of these books early in 2014 and will coincide with a series of exhibitions revealing the world of Lompagni.

“This particular exhibition was timely,” she whispered. “I knew it was time for my Lompagni Tree painting to leave the studio, and what better way for it to find its place than on the winds of generosity. I love our Upper Yarra Arts community. I donated it to them as a symbol of my gratitude for their kindness. And as I stood in the gallery hanging the first of my paintings, we received the news of the Tarkine forest, which had just been signed and released for mining. As I later sat in disbelief reading the news, my heart sank deeper into those places where you feel hope is lost. The darkness of these places is often mirrored by the magnitude of grace which is to come, but neither can see the other, and so we sit, silent in the in between. As I sat sobbing into my morning teacup, my five-year-old boy awoke and upon inquiring if my tears were happy or sad tears, I explained the state of affairs. He thought for some time, then left, disappearing into the dark. A few minutes later he arrived holding a small felt white bird, hanging from an old piece of bamboo, which had sat assumedly untouched and unnoticed on the top of his bookshelf for years. He arrived with gentle feet and tender words and told me not to worry, to hold out my hand, into which he placed the bird with utmost care.”

“Don’t cry mummy,” he said. “Don’t cry, believe in the bird, mum. Believe in the bird.”

“Where once the Lompagni Tree carved itself through my mind and onto my canvas, where once I watched it leave as gently as it arrived. It has gone now, setting seeds in someone else’s heart, that they may stare at her and know what it is to dream and live. Form and non-form drift into their own quiet understanding of the other and finds life, for the money raised from her now rests in the form of the gallery ottoman, and empty chair, waiting only for the deliverance of a silent, watching mind, where the imagination will retrace the steps of self, and a new world will begin.”

Belinda’s work can be viewed thought her private website www.thedreamingseed.com

Melbourne Symphony Orchestra free concert series, Sidney Myer Music Bowl, Melbourne

I don’t know a lot about classical music. Actually, I can confidently admit I don’t know anything about classical music. I couldn’t pick out Mozart’s Requiem or hum you any part of Beethoven’s symphonies.

One thing I do know a lot about however, is free stuff. I can sniff out a bargain anywhere. I pride myself on being a cheap date. And when Melbourne Symphony Orchestra announced their series of free concerts, I just couldn’t resist.

Free music at the Sidney Myer Bowl, with the sun setting over the city on a beautifully warm summer’s evening is wonderful thing. Especially when picnics are encouraged.

Although the February series is over, keep an eye out for more freebies before summer sends.