Art Revolution Taipei

1 April 2012 (Taiwan)

Joining the A.R.T. (Art Revolution Taipei) was a real milestone in my career! The decision to be at the fair in real person was even better. It was all one great learning course!

Before I received an invitation of ‘gallery X-power’ in Taipei to participate this adventure, I never have had much thoughts about Taiwan. Some people I told about my plans even confused Taiwan with Thailand 😉 And to be honest; I had to do some investigation on the internet too, about what kind of country this was.
When the date came closer I got more and more excited about what was going to happen. The organisation sounded so solid and professional. I had shipped my paintings in advance and booked 10 days Taiwan for two. Everything was taken care for.

It was a fantastic experience. The A.R.T. fair as well as Taipei itself. I’m definitely in love and one day I’ll be back!

boxtaiwan

Remember the sculpture in the back?

Fun

Fun to see my own work back in a catalogue.

Wow, they made a banner of my painting! Isn't that cool?!

Wow, they made a banner of my painting! Isn’t that cool?!

Improvising with a microphone under my nose is not my strongest point :-/

Improvising with a microphone under my nose is not my strongest point :-/

These lanterns in a string of 3 kilometre led us from the station to the temple.

These lanterns in a string of 3 kilometre led us from the station to the temple.

A spectacular view from the garden of one of the beautifully decorated temples

A spectacular view from the garden of one of the beautifully decorated temples

One of the rooms in the temple

One of the rooms in the temple

We rent a bike and had an absolutely wonderful day along the river in Taipei

We rent a bike and had an absolutely wonderful day along the river in Taipei

The famous 101 building. For a short while it was the highest in the world.

The famous 101 building. For a short while it was the highest in the world.

For a vegetarian Taiwan is a candy shop!

For a vegetarian Taiwan is a candy shop!

More Tapei

From Brisbane to Sydney

28 Februari 2012 (Australia)

Together with my parents in law Frank and I have been in Australia for 2 weeks. After staying for a couple of days in Brisbane we very slowly travelled down to Sydney. Frank and I slept in the campervan and the parents slept in one of those cute cabins or little bungalows on the camping-sites along the way. I’m feeling so happy in this country.
Every time I visit a big city (especially in Australia) it seems I’m allowed to take a deep breath after swimming underwater for too long.

I wondered what kind of good deeds the citizens have done in their previous lives in order to be born in Australia. Then I wondered what bad I have done in my previous life that I am NOT born here*. But suddenly I understood! Of course I have done so much good in my present life, I do not have to wait until a next life. I’m allowed to jump the queue! In this life yet.
New Zealand won’t be our final resting place.

The strong feeling what came to me exactly when this photo was taken in Newcastle, will become clear within 5 years …

Brisbane Sydney

* But know I know … I certainly realize that being born in the Netherlands, is unbeatable privileged too.
I was just acting (acting is my comfort zone).
And you knew that.




Buying art from fellow artists

19 September 2011

Last weekend we visited the annual Kawerau Wood Fest. Kawerau is the location of a huge wood factory, providing jobs for half of all men in this region.
Besides a fair and a lot of competitions for strong men who fight each other with tree stumps, there is also a wood-themed art exhibition for the more swanky ones among us, haha.
To us that seemed to be an excellent opportunity to buy something from the money my Grandma slipped to me. That’s how Grandma’s do such things.

Of course it had to be a present she could agree with. Something she possibly could have chosen by herself.
I found a beautiful wooden bowl with a lid, wherein a part is left in its natural form. I though my Grandma would like it, because she also prefers her Christmas pieces to be a bit ‘natural’ with lots of bark, berries and greens and a spared use of glitter.

When we left the exhibition hall we bumped into an artist who was busy making sculptures with a chainsaw. One sculpture took him a few days to create and they are about six feet tall. They are not just decorative curls, but they represent a Maori story.
Except Grandma’s money, we had some birthday money from my father too, so voila … a conversation piece for our new garden! We got a discount without asking, because the chainsaw sculptor was glad he was able to sell something at this last minute of the fair. Oh I know that feeling so well. A lot of artist has to go through that stage.
Our sculpture tells a story about the how&why of day&night. I will receive the exact story later. Well, I thought it would suit us. We ourselves are always struggling with our circadian rhythm, haha. We are naturally night owls but desperately want to be early birds. When we are waking up always the first thing we are saying is: “Tonight we go to bed early!”
Perhaps the sculpture does have a good influence on us.

fellow artists

The right one is ours now




A foot massage in Singapore

5 August 2011 (Singapore)

On our way back from the Netherlands we booked a stop-over in Singapore for 1 day. We counted on beating the jet lag easily, but we were more tired than we had expected. Uninspiredly we dragged ourselves through the city. We were so longing to a quick nap, but we even couldn’t find the tiniest piece of public lawn to lay on. And please no, not another drink or not again a lunch on a bar stool. Better keep on moving. Swim to avoid drowning.
“Shall we go to Chinatown? To that crazy mall? Four weeks ago I saw a booth with beautiful beads. Maybe we can find it again”.
Walking the same route as we did earlier we didn’t find the beads, but we came along many stalls with Chinese foot masseurs.
“Shall we? Do you want to go in this time?”
We were somewhat hesitate, but the simple fact that we saw 8 very comfortable reclining chairs … $ 15 for a 30-minute foot reflexology made us stop. I didn’t care what they plan to do with my feet, I just wanted to lie down there. I was exhausted and I would fall asleep anyway.

Frank was the first to fill in a kind of medical check list. In the meantime, the boss started phoning like crazy. It looked like he was calling his complete family to come along and laugh at those foreigners.
Five seats away an Australian girl was terrible moaning and shocking with her body. She saw me watching her in horror. “If he squeezes there, I feel it here,” she said. “AAAUUUWWW !!!” she screamed again. “But it’s a good hurt, you know!” She said quickly, as she saw my frozen eyes.
Yes, my fat ass, I thought. Good pain … ha! That’s probably the same as black money. Spending black money works exactly the same as spending white money.
She again concentrated and her face contorted beyond.

Suddenly I didn’t want the massage.
But Frank was too late for a change of mind. His checklist was filled in already.

From the moment they had put us in the 2 chairs close to the window, more and more people came in. See! That must be the boss’ family and friends. Curious to see those giant white feet up close! Even a blind man entered the room!
This man puts his stick at the door and the boss quickly led him to Frank’s seat. He got a jar of cream pressed into his hands and without any introduction he began to feel Frank’s feet.

When he was doing his job he pulls all strange faces and moves his mouth in silence … like he was in an inner dialogue with the assigned feet.
On a poster on the wall I could descry where the internal body parts are connected in the feet. I saw an icon of the brains and the heart, all indicated by colours. Now I finally know where men’s willies are located!

Because I had forgotten to turn off the beep that is heard when I turn on my camera, I didn’t dare to take pictures. The blind man looks a bit … how shall I say it … angrily. Or severe. He scared me. Maybe because I continually whispered to Frank whether it hurts. Frank shook his head, but I know -because I didn’t join in to be screwed- he now never will answer me honestly anymore about this subject. He probably prefers to bite off his own foot, instead of showing me any emotion.
I am also afraid that -when the blind man would hear the beep- he viciously would pinch Frank. Or that he would shift his internal parts and would cause something bad.
At that moment I’m even more determined I really don’t want this. Don’t touch my internal body parts.
The boss gestures ‘to do me for free’.
“No”.

Singapore, foot massage

We even thought to do a sneaky nap hidden under the elephant, but the parking and especially the elephant was guarded.




A visit to the Netherlands

4 August 2011 (the Netherlands)

We were in the Netherlands for a month to visit our family. I was asked if I have seen changes compared with 6 years ago.
Most of all there were some differences that we had forgotten. For example, as soon as we left the airport, I immediately saw the Dutch are much slimmer. And the children on their little supersonic bicycles were all fully decorated with the latest gadgets and they were fashionably dressed like miniature-adults (and matching attitude 😉 )

Recently I read in one of the Dutch magazines (I still read them) that in the Netherlands ‘the prosperity is gushing out of the dormer windows’. In real … that is true. And it’s notable. I saw an interview on tv about Dutch families who supposedly are in financial trouble. In the background I saw beautiful living rooms, top class furniture, wooden floors, modern decorations. Everything of good quality and looking in mint condition. I can’t take that serious. That is really a difference with here.
Yes, for a few days I was jealous of all that wealth and the unlimited choice. Not to say New Zealand is a poor country. I know it’s not Ethiopia. And we ourselves aren’t poor too. But the image around us though, is certainly looking a bit … eh … well … let’s not equivocate; a bit shabby.
However, after a few days I knew it again. Because don’t forget … if you always have to live in such a nasty climate, locked inside your house, probably you desperately need some extra fun/luxury in return.
I prefered the good weather.

Another thing I liked of being back was; Dutchies hardly do courtesy talks. In daily life and in business they can be bluntly honest to each other without affecting their relationship. They are going right to the point. For foreigners they may sound rude, but Dutchies skipping the courtesy talks feels like saving time for both.

A sound that struck me was the cooing of doves. Awww, I missed that. And the far sounds of church bells a couple of times a day. I totally had tuned that out when I lived in the Netherlands, but now I realised I hadn’t heard them for years!
But the finest sound actually, was a certain lack of sound … that eternal voice in the shops, “Can I help you?”
For me it was so liberating that in every Dutch shop (no matter how posh) you can walk in without the shop assistants jump right on your neck.
Beside in the Netherlands there is so much beauty for sale, the disinterest of the staff (or so you want; the skipping of the courtesy) made shopping a great pleasure. When I’m thinking about entering a shop in New Zealand, quite often the saleswoman already greedy tries to make eye-contact, while I am still outside! I can’t handle that and won’t come in then. I hate it and I feel forced. If I need help I know where she is. Everybody knows.
Although I like that New Zealanders always greeting each other on the street (Dutchies ignore strangers), that shop-thing must ne a Dutch habit I can’t get rid of. For Dutch people maybe shops are more a kind of ‘public area’. And for New Zealand people a shop is owned by someone who takes care for the visitors. Does that make sense?




The owner in the background is completely ignoring me and is reading his paper. Thumbs up.

netherlands

City trip to Melbourne

4 February 2011 (Australia)

After

Before

After 3,5 years of financial drought and lack of time (because of the renovation of our house) we finally could treat ourselves to a city trip to Melbourne. I want to tell you why I so enormously enjoyed it!

For me personally it felt like a kind of landslide to understand the Australian accent 100 times easier than the New Zealand accent. I know; probably my language struggle begins to be a pretty boring topic for you, and for me it’s quite annoying that I hardly can explain why I find language & personality are so tightly connected to each other.

But … apart from the certainty that there are way more serious problems in the world (really, I know, haha) the fact is that I have to cope this struggle and in Australia I experienced an almost physical relief because the bustle around me was no dense cloud of abstract sounds anymore. Without significant concentration I could pick up complete sentences! For example; listening to the people gossiping about their aunty on the seats behind me in the lunchroom … oh, the joy! Or the teenage girls in the tram discussing how they would approach their prey that night. It made me serenely smiling. It were fragments of lives that had nothing to do with my life, but suddenly now I was part of the same space, instead of being an almost deaf and dumb person in a separate bubble.

What also made me so happy was that people understood ME TOO!!! Usually without I needed to repeat my words 3 times! Of pure happiness I asked things on my own initiative! Just for fun! Without those questions were urgently needed! No deep conversations though, but you have to start in baby steps, isn’t it?
In New Zealand, when I asked for an extra sugar packet … without exception they looked at me like I’m hysterically yelling at them. Even if I pointed to the empty pot of sugar packets at the same time. Sometimes I almost choked of frustration!
Then what a relief to simply ask in the fitting room: “Can you bring me a larger size?” and the shop assistant kindly nodded and DOING it right away!!! Oh … those little things made me so happy last week.

I always have felt if I was the first person in the world by asking such an idiotic thing like a larger size, or a sugar packet, while requesting these questions in a completely logical situation. After all, I didn’t ask for a sugar packet just after a fire has broken out. And I didn’t ask for a larger size, just when I was lying down to undergo a gynecological examination.
Anyhoo … if you often experience that feeling of despair, then after a while it will affect your behavior. And if your behaviour is changing, it slowly infects your personality.

If I concentrate I can follow the news on tv in New Zealand. But a constant high focus is too much. I only can muster for things that interest me in a certain level.
I don’t know why other people pick it up so much faster. Probably I need more practice. To practice you need to talk to strangers. Ha … and THAT is quite unthinkable for an introvert!
But it remains a curious fact that I have much less trouble with the Australian dialect. Four years ago, I already had noticed this during our visit to Brisbane.

The above story is not the reason for our desire to move to Australia in the future. We miss the Big City. That doesn’t mean we made the wrong choice 5 years ago. At that time, New Zealand was the right choice. We wanted to leave the Netherlands, away from the crowds and live in a quiet area. Well … we did. Now we are five years further in life and have learned a few things. Perhaps we have changed too. We broadly moved to the right direction. Now we just need to do some fine tuning. Geographically-wise.

melbourne

Somewhere in Melbourne

Awkward silence

28 November 2010

Our neighbour was waiting before us, in the line at the checkout of the supermarket.

Neighbour: “Hi! How aya?”
I: Goe … ehm, fine.
Neighbour: Do you want a white home?

Me thinking: (Huh? Does she means something of Christmas, or what?)
I: Ehhh ……… (silly grin)
Neighbour: Do you want a white home?

Me thinking: (Ow shit, is she asking about our house painted beige last year?)
I: Pardon? (I learned to pronounced this in New-Zealand dialect like the Dutch word for ‘horses’)
Neighbour: Do you want a white home?

Me thinking: (Oh boy, what the hell is she meaning?)
I: A white home ???
Neighbour: Yes (expectant look)

(Long awkward silence)

Frank: Oooooh, you mean RRRight home?
Neighbour: Hahaha, yes, a rrright home???
Frank: Yes, after the shopping we are going right home.

In the meanwhile, I saw an empty spot at the self-service-checkout and vigorously nodding, pointing and smiling I pushed Frank and myself out of the line.
After we paid and packed our groceries, the neighbour was still waiting for us.

Neighbour: Did you guys walk down to town?
Frank: Nooo, our car is parked here (I made helpful matching gestures to the door … and pretended to hold a steering wheel.
Me thinking: (Omg, she must think I’m a lunatic. Why I’m doing this?)

Neighbour: So, you don’t need a ride home?




awkward silence

Isn’t my homegrown carrot artistic?

Italia meets New Zealand

Wildervangsterdallen

17 June 2010

A while ago I got a request of Silvano Braido to exchange a small work, something like a drawing. For some inimitable reason I’m always grabbing the large canvasses and hardly create small drawings these days. The only serious small work I owned was Wildervangsterdallen. It was a personal favorite of me, made with acrylic and ink and it was ever used as illustration for a song.

So, the choice for Silvano was quite limited, but luckily he was still willing to do the exchange.

Today I received his part in my letterbox and I was over the moon. Beside a beautiful bright tempera work, he also added a book brimmed full of other small paintings of weird animals in marvellous colors.

Visit the site of Silvano Braido, you will be surprised!

Silvano Braido, Italia meets New Zealand

Croatian article

5 May 2010

Sometimes people write such beautiful things about me
Before an exhibition or contest I’m often asked to write a short text about my work. I always find that a difficult job. The concrete facts are easy, but I’m always afraid that talking about the message sounds pretentious. I know that’s nonsense and it’s something I need to overcome.
But then suddenly, without knowing the reason, somebody wrote some sweet words about me in a way I never would dare myself.
The article is HERE (in Croatian language, so spare your clicks). I have translated the first 2 paragraphs through Google.

Patricia van Lubeck is a Dutch artist, who currently lives and works in New Zealand. This painter is deeply and sincerely committed to her art, but at same time she is a great visionair, is altruistic and a kind of spiritual missionary. In terms of painting, she is certainly one of the most interesting and the most recognizable artists of today.

The painting style of Patricia van Lubeck could be defined as neosurrealism, but that would be a too simple and too narrow concept of her work. Her art actually is an intuitive, creative and unpredictable mix of futuristic neosurrealism with postrealism, fantasy and abstraction. Neither her style, nor her content contains just one single level or message, but multiply to the extent, in which each observer is able to receive them in yourself and experience them in their own special way. All of these images as a whole are characterized by a strong spiritual and transcendent content, with deep altruistic motivation and message.

Srdjan Djeric (movie and visual arts reviewer, critic writer and journalist)

Wow … I’m fallen silent by these nice words.

Croatian article

Trying to sneak in to Art Melbourne, in one of the shipping crates for paintings.




The cloud picker

14 April 2010

In the meanwhile I had a exhibition of 1 painting in Wellington because of a portrait contest.
There was quite a controversy about one of the entrants because his work was a portrait of a murderer.

Anyway … I didn’t win a prize, but I was one of the leading four in the People’s Choice, so that was a good result for me.
The next thing is that my Cloud Picker will get a grand tour through New Zealand.

New Zealand portrait gallery, Wellington 24 February-11 April 2010
Lopdell House, Titirangi, Auckland. 15 April-6 June 2010
Percy Thompson Gallery, Stratford 13 Aug-12 Sept 2010
Hawke’s Bay Exhibition Centre, Hastings 20 Sept-28 Nov 2010
Millenium Gallery, Blenheim 30 Nov-30 Jan 2011
Eastern Southland Gallery, Gore Feb 2011- to be confirmed

Retroactively inspired

7 September 2009

Patricia Van LubeckNormally; first there is my painting … and then Mother Earth imitates me with a pale shadow of my created treasures. That’s how it happens all the time!
Being a painter is a case of self-confidence, isn’t it?

Somewhere in Spain, Mother Nature has been ahead of me.
I created the painting named ‘September’ a long time ago, in the year 2001.
But … last year I saw some amazing pictures of a couple of trees in Madrid. I couldn’t deny that these trees must have started their lives long, long before the canvas of my painting was even woven …

Aren’t they beautiful?

Lubeck trees in real life Retroactively inspiration

Notes for every separate painting

3 September 2009

There are always about 4 or 5 works in progress hanging in my house, in different dry condition. I add one layer of paint and then it needs to dry for a week before I add the next layer or refine the details. Btw: layers are not always covering a whole painting from corner to corner.
If one of them is sitting on my easel again, I always have difficulties to re-connect with the painting in question. Sometimes they have been in rest for weeks and sometimes even for months. But every time it seems I need hours or days before I know how to work further on it, like an interrupted conversation. Most of the times my first attempts are quite pointless too.

To prevent this ‘stumbling’, I always write down a kind of start-up for the next reunion. To all of my paintings there belongs a little scrap paper with the receipt of the most important color mixes of that painting. Also the state of oiliness of the medium of the last applied layer is important to know. And than the start-up. That can be something like: “Next time start with a darker glaze for the shadow sides of the barks. Or “start to pink the horizon”.
It maybe sound like silly reminders, but the moments they came up I’m in the best conceivable work flow to just that particular painting. In those flows I know exactly what the best order of layers or details is. The only problem are the huge interruptions.
I found out the written start-ups helped me a lot to restart. They quickly pull me back into the painting.

Notes for every separate painting in progress

An outer space forest

10 August 2009

Inspiration can come from anything! Hear ….. anything!

This afternoon I found a miniature landscape in my garden. Close up it was a bunch of clear, almost glassy stems with a more than yellow bulb at the top. The bulbs of the longest stems were coloured to bronze. It seems like a beautiful miniature forest on one of the planets far away from here …

Please keep clicking on the pictures, for the full effect:

Beautiful yellow tiny things

Beautiful yellow tiny things

Growing on a colorless 'thing" ...

Growing on a colorless ‘thing” …

An outer space forest

But then, zooming out I saw the thing was just a turd!

Oh, yeah. Of course.

Made by one of my room mates.

Children’s drawings from the seventies

22 July 2009

When I was scanning some old pictures, I found a photo of my Mum.  Behind the head of the boy I caught sight of a familiar looking drawing pinned to the wall. I knèw I still had this particular drawing somewhere in the few boxes I lug with me through my life … I searched and I found.

The painting turned out to be 39 years old. In the corner was written ‘Patricia 5 years old’.
Would Rembrand be a mediocre drawer too when he was 5 years old? Hehehe … certainly! 😉
Maybe the only unusual aspect I already had in my younger years could be the preference for non-blue skies.

One year later details start appearing; A chandelier which -looking at the back bulbs- attempted me to make a kind of perspective. A bracket for the hanging painting and a kind of anchor above the front door.
And although a perspectively correct opening fence was probably beyond me, I found a good lock important enough to draw.

Children's drawings Children's drawings Children's drawings

Long floppy brushes

17 July 2009

I use the liners only for painting grass.
I mix 3 or 4 different shades of green (my favorite green is made by yellow & black in stead of yellow & blue) and I heavily liquidize the seperate mixes with a lot of medium.
Then, with quick movements, I strike every single blade of grass on the canvas.

This is a part of the painting with the Gooseberries, a couple of entries below.

These brushes are called liners.

These brushes are called liners.

Blind fury

10 July 2009

Did you ever explode in anger in public?
Years ago it happened to me in the Body Shop in the Netherlands.

To save the environment they advertised to refill your plastic Body Shop shampoo bottles. I found it a totally logical idea. So I stored my empty bottle of coconut shampoo. For weeks it was waiting in the bathroom. After a while there was emptied another bottle and together they moved to the dresser in the hallway.

One day the 2 bottles finally ended up in my shopping bag and I headed to town.
In the meantime the Body Shop had launched a couple of new scents. I said to one of the shop assistants: “Hi, here are my empty bottles. Can you refill them with this and that.”
The girls took the bottles from me and checked the label. She turned off the cap of my bottle and smelled it. “This has been coconut, so it need to be filled with coconut again,” she said.
“No, this time I prefer honey.”  And I tapped my finger on the shelf with the bottles of shampoo of my choice. And in the other bottle I want conditioner with Olive,” I said.
She sniffed the other bottle too and said: “This has been conditioner with peach.”
“Yeah right, but now I want Olive,” I said again. I already digged up my wallet, indicating that I had no time for her hair analysis.
“That’s not possible,” she said.
“What … is … not … possible? I asked. “The advertisement for refills is still presented on your door!”
“We can only refill with the same product,” she said.
“Well, the original product was shampoo and conditioner and now I want shampoo and conditioner again,” I said.
“We can only refill them with exact the same scent” she said with bored tone in her voice.
“Oh … but I want to try Honey and Olive. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that the ingredients are mixing together “
“Well, the bottles are thoroughly rinsed with boiling water. There is no drop of coconut and peach left!”
“Yes, but there still may be small particles, which affect the result.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Yes, but there still may be small particles, which affect the result.” she said again. I looked at her in full amazement. She probably had learned this at the Body Shop school. But now back to reality please, because I wanted to leave this shit shop, WITH my refilled bottles.
“Yeah I understand that, but that is my own responsibility, okay ?!” To underline I was done with this conversation I already did a step towards the cash register.
“No, we can’t do it.”
“Hey come on! Then do it secretly. I won’t say a word to your boss.” I ran out of patience and I felt that something began to boil in my head.
“No, we can not do it.” she said again and without showing any emotion.

“OH!”

“WELL!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT?!”

At that time I grabbed the two bottles out of her hands … “THEN YOU DON’T SELL ANYTHING ALL!”

On the way to the door it flashed through my mind what to do with those empty bottles. They had cluttered my dresser for months, but I also wanted to help reducing the landfills. “That stupid girl, we are fighting the same battle!” In a new wave of seething rage I turned around and threw the bottle as far as possible into the store.
I thoroughly hoped I hit something breakable.