The figure sits

The human figure or any animal figure sits uneasily in contemporary and modern art. It is the common enemy of both camps. The figuratively inclined artist finds themselves alienated by both camps for being out of step. Should an artist find themselves inclined to making modern, contemporary and figurative art, that compounds the problem.

First Coming 2003 (detail)

First Coming 2003 (detail)

Without going into the historical detail, most readers will know the alignment of different philosophical positions in time. The linear legacy in which we grew up, is hard to shake. As time passes however, we proceed not from the understanding that history has provided, but from finding ourselves free to explore all of the above. The notion of ‘progress’ was always a ruse. That was the lesson.

First Coming 2003 (detail)

First Coming 2003 (detail)

And so the figure seasons come and go, according to how urgently they impress themselves into the picture. In my case those moments come when I can no longer resist the pleasure of working with the figure or cannot resist the fee from the commission. Generally though, the forms are not charged unless I am fresh with them again, after a break, a decade, or in the hands of another, further down the track.

First Coming 2003 (detail)

First Coming 2003 (detail)

First Coming is a rescue sculpture. As a rule rescue animals can have psychological problems. First Coming was retrieved from Byron Bay Resort after fourteen years stationed at the entry to the resort. They wanted to update the decor. The sculpture is very much at home here. Far from being damaged, it speaks to the landscape and the landscape responds.

Sculpture in the sky

(Advertisement)

Sky at Wamboin

Sky at Wamboin

This blog is called sydneyschoolofsculpture@blogspot. In the blog I talk about and show my world, much of it concerning sculpture and ideas around sculpture.
As of this week, this land at Wamboin too, has a title, or name.

Sky at Wamboin

Sky at Wamboin

That name is ‘Sculpture in The Sky’. Sculpture has been shown for the last twenty years or so at place specific sculpture events. Those places have been by the sea, at the vines, on the edge, in the paddock. They have taken their name from where the sculpture is shown. This exhibition of sculpture has a longer duration than those shows and SITS (Sculpture in The Sky) exhibits just my work.
Sculpture, by virtue of being normally grounded would appear to have little scope accommodated in the sky and yet, here we are at Wamboin on a plateau above Canberra. The sculptures are grounded in the sky and are at home there.
Just as our bodies sense the loss of pressure on the head and shoulders by being in this location in the sky, so too do the sculptures rejoice, to become more truly themselves, unshackled by proximity to the ground, to other objects and to the compressed time that ‘elsewheres’ inhabit. Time, here in the sky is more expanded.

Sometimes we become over connected to the ground as if that was our inescapable destiny. The sky shifts and can lack substance.

The real estate industry has begun to commodify the sky by selling air space to property investors.
Generally though, the sky does not lend itself to subdivision. Vegetables cannot grow there, cartographers are drawn to land masses more than sky masses.

An easy transition to the new normal will be aided by visiting Sculpture in The Sky.

Sky at Wamboin

Sky at Wamboin

Pinedemic postcard .

The pines have been eliminated. We have achieved herd immunity here at Wamboin. The chance of a cell developing withIn the boundary is now quite remote.
The roots of the pines are displayed at the gate as a warning to saplings thinking of settling here to think again.
The logs extracted from the pines that were pushed over have been redeployed as barriers within the property to underline natural divisions within the property. Those logs which stood so tall are now prone, subservient.
Branches and leaves have been burned. (See earlier post.)
We are not complacent however. Strategies employed must be religiously maintained. Two rogue trees seen today, that had evaded the earlier cull will be processed.
Pines shoot to the sky as the crow flies. There is no gum meandering, no ‘journey’ philosophy evident.
Pines are in a rush. Here at Wamboin, there is no rush.

In this context I would like to present today’s pineless postcard.

Crown 1987

Crown 1987

Bowl 12 2011

Bowl 12 2011

Air 1990

Air 1990

Boat 1979

Boat 1979

Modern Sculpture 1984

Modern Sculpture 1984

Blessed 2004 & 2019

Blessed 2004 & 2019

The liquid garden

This place here is a liquid garden. That it is made of material is incidental. The rock, the wood, the steel, the leaf and air move like water.

It is liquid when it is relieved from neglect. When it is let go, it moves and comes to life. It needs, responds to care and to being noticed.
Without care, it is dormant.

Each part of it waits to be attended. Each part is a world in waiting, waiting to be stirred into the pot. Each part is a voice in the choir which cannot start until after the role call.

I am carried around, along the current.

The edge is the boundary of the block. The 20 acre pool has a hill, a shed with its ‘arena’, a hill crest with its wooded slopes. It has the dams and the green lowland. There is the other side of the wires with the avenues.

There’s the forest of little trees where the wind doesn’t blow. There is the kangaroo dormitory. There’s the old stables area with it stone ribs exposed.

There’s the shed which is our domain, which, by having no windows looks only in, and in.

There’s the guest caravan, cosy and clean and the back yard with clothes line and compost bin.

All of this is moving and changing. You can drag a rake across any part of it and the the ground blinks. There are fresh blades of grass waiting for air and sun and the opportunity to proliferate.

There are the remains of the dreams of the previous owner everywhere. Everywhere is Cinderella and the sleeping frog.

It’s like a book here. You don’t have to start from where you left off. You can just let it fall open and keep going.

Wamboin postcard

Deepening Crisis 1987

Deepening Crisis 1987

Modern Sculpture 1987

Modern Sculpture 1987

Hung 1983

Hung 1983

Flower 2015

Flower 2015

Agatha Ascending 1982

Agatha Ascending 1982

Agatha Ascending 1982

Agatha Ascending 1982

Split Column 1984

Split Column 1984

There seem to be a thousand sculptures here. Each work is reiterated every hour, every day.

ThIs moon

IMG_1724.jpeg

We are not accustomed to being surveilled by the moon. Here it was though clearly looking now, with its monocle or magnifying glass.
An iridologist could interpret the moon’s health tonight. A smear of cloud gave no clues to me.
The moon keeps an eye on everyone, not just me, but not tonight.
This moon sat in the sky in judgement.
Yes. I’m talking to you.
Judge me then Moon. You have no power to sentence me.
Judge away. xx

The croo

Adjustments.jpeg

I’m not a misanthropist but, the kangaroos sit better than humans among the sculptures. People here to replace the kangaroos would not be as integrated. The presence of people would take away the alien charm.

Covid studo

The studio is expanded now, here at Wamboin. There is no normal workshop/studio.
The raw material here is my life’s work. Making now is looking and moving works around. Old is new. Time and the notion of progress are just colours and brushes.
Changing a work by physically altering it is not available, not an option, so, thinking and time is repurposed.
The 20 acres have become the work space, Because my thinking is oriented towards an art practice, everything is processed through that aperture.
The 20 acres constitute the boundary of the gallery and or the one artwork, which in my day, I travel across and alter. Being that it is a desert here, all human, western human change is folly, so, as I walk through the landscape I keep that in mind.
The tools employed are limited. There is no earth moving machinery on site. That has to be separately expensively commissioned. There is my truck with crane. There are the trees and the earth, the grass and the leaves.There are bricks left by the previous owner. There is the weather, there is my energy, rising and falling.
There are the usual miss-hits, mistakes, poor judgements. There is the usual dependence on those with greater intelligence and judgement.

For all of that, life is the same, here at Wamboin. Important work, it feels like, brought here to us by Covid. There’s moving stuff, which is like remaking stuff and there’s photographing stuff which identifies that. The record may come to be useful.

The Commonwealth Abyss 2010?

The Commonwealth Abyss 2010?

Peripheral Core

IMG_1722.jpeg
IMG_1733.jpeg

Shared red and white elements do not necessarily denote significance unless drawn out by a reading.

The Reading.

The white of the apple was applied through eating by a child’s teeth. Having made the ribbon, the apple had lost its appeal and been discarded into the gutter where it drew attention to itself by being so well drawn. It looked like a wheel, ready to roll itself away to the sea.

The cable off-cut, from being peeled revealed red, not white. This was a ribbon laid out, not rolled up. The appeal lay in the prospect of finding a match at the electrical store, the smaller, unpeeled sample was clearly not a match.
Finding a link is to reconcile having moved to Wamboin. The apple was in Balmain. The cable was a Wamboin. I am mending the break between the two places by bringing them together here.

wamboin full moon

These photos were taken tonight on the arena. The so-called arena was named by the previous owner, who kept horses. The name sticks well.

Blessed 2004 & 2019

Blessed 2004 & 2019

Hole In One 1987

Hole In One 1987

Column detail

Column detail

Gavel 2015

Gavel 2015

Tonight there is a full moon. This phone/camera does not discriminate between night and day. It sees like a native animal, none of which were out tonight. We were too early for them.

The Crossing 2016

The Crossing 2016

The sculptures continue to be reinterpreted at different times. The moonlight was strange. It lent a different light by which we will become accustomed, as we adapt to non-urban life.

The trees jostle and dance and compete for attention with the sculpture. They are more circumspect during daylight.

Split Column 1987

Split Column 1987

Gum

A photo will present visual material to the viewer that can be interpreted. If a text is added below or above that image, the viewer’s interpretation of the image may change. If the text is compelling, the image will be enhanced. It may be so enhanced that the text will become primary with the image playing a supportive role as if that image was merely explanatory or exemplary. This is a test.

Gum

Gum

This is a gum tree. The clouds are the tree’s leaves. Silver, black and blue, we squint as we do when we look at things here. Eyes wide open draw flies and cataracts.
The branches are summarised, require no elaboration.
The tree salutes to no rank and stands at a ragged attention. Shade here is psychological but welcome.

Roadkill

Roadkill

Roadkill

We are the roadkill capital of Australia here at Wamboin. There’s fresh kill every 100 metres. You get used to it, or not.
Root bowls from the pines line our drive, providing an avenue of dishonour.
They comprise a vegetarian equivalent to the the open road roadkill. They make the same gruesome gestures as the roos do, when they are knocked off their feet.

Wamboin Postcard 27.4.20

On the hill

On the hill

Every photo provides an interpretation of a work. This blog shows the same sculptures in different lights, in different skies from different angles and distances.

We are Only As Good as The Thing of which We are A Part.

We are Only As Good as The Thing of which We are A Part.

ThE pIne’s afterglow

Fire lit trees with stars

Fire lit trees with stars

Normally nothing competes with the stars in terms of scope. Scope and the universe have have the market cornered.
Here though, the embers from the toxic pines are bright enough to make a fake day effect and the stars are caught with their pants down.

Dark light

IMG_1403.jpeg

We have night here. The city has no night, only the end of day. In town, night is the absence of light. Here, night is dark star light.

Yes. It’s a lot to digest

Digesting Coming here 23.4.20

Digesting Coming here 23.4.20

We came here to Australia and disrupted a very stable culture and now we have to digest it. It took us a while to realise what we did. We were so occupied with our own intent, we failed to see what was here.