In September the Maitland council did a call out to artists to come up with a idea for a 18 x 9 meter wall. Frank sent them a design based on one of my paintings, photoshopped on the wall. The council chose us to create it.
We asked another artists (Andrew Bennett) to help us and it took us about 2 weeks to finish it. It was all old-fashioned brushwork (no airbrush).
Archive by Author | Patricia
Bendigo Art Award
What a surprise when I got called on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
“You’ve won the first prize.”
“WHAT???”
“You have won the first prize!”
Earlier I had entered The Waller Art Prize. An inaugural &prize exhibition, first held in October 2018 at Trades Hall in Bendigo. The Prize was initiated by in honour of Bendigo Artist & BendArts founder Hugh Waller (1959 – 2017). The opening of the Waller is 20th October, 6pm
I already was happy I had made it to finalist and could have hang my painting in the Trades Hall for a couple of weeks. I absolutely had not expected to win anything. Having my name out there had been my goal.
It is such a great honour to be chosen out of all the other professional artists with their amazing works! THANKS BENDIGO XXXXX
Icons of our collective memory (no signal)
Acrylic on 300 canvases
100 x 75 cm.
Our collective memory contains thousands of faces, names, brands, objects, scandals, disasters and victories. You often only need a small clue to understand what is meant. Two musical notes heard … and you can sing along to the song. Just some initials could be enough for certain celebs or brands. A low resolute image of a security camera can direct you to the criminal. Or to the hero.
No detailed image is needed to recognise the tv test card. Although you probably need to be born before 1980
Icons of our collective memory (Walter White)
As an immigrant I got intrigued by the phenomenon ‘collective memory’.
A while after moving from the Netherlands to New Zealand
I realised that a large piece of my personality was built on the history I shared with people I had grown up with. For example; jokes. Most jokes are based on shared knowledge between you and your audience, without you even thinking to check this beforehand. Usually, only the most subtle visual or verbal clue is needed to understand what is meant. Of course; that is the power of jokes. Explaining them is destroying them, right?
Simply think of the favourite TV series you may have seen in your younger years. For example; Imitating a specific voice or phrase from a character might be a way of connecting with a friend who used to watch the show too. We can do this sort
of things without thinking too hard about it.
Although in a new country this kind of cultural reference points had become useless, at least the wider and international part is still applicable.
Long story short:
Our collective memory contains thousands of faces, names, brands, objects, scandals, disasters and victories. Like I said above; you often only need a small clue to understand what is meant. Two musical notes heard … and you can sing along to the song. Just some initials could be enough for certain celebs or brands. A low resolute image of a security camera can direct you to the criminal. Or to the hero.
No detailed image is needed to recognise Breaking Bad’s Heisenberg.
Acrylic on 667 canvases
The sign is on
It has been a while since I posted an update about our move to Australia. Well, last year we found our perfect dream home, with a large shop window in the main street of Maitland. Maitland is about 30 kilometres from Newcastle. It has beautiful historic buildings and a railway to Newcastle and Sydney. Maitland has the perfect mix between the abundance of a city and the sense of community of a small town. Beside a shop/studio our building also has a good-sized working place, private parking space at the back and a nice apartment.
It could not be better!!!
Lethbridge gallery
I became a finalist at the small scale art award of the Lethbridge gallery in Brisbane. An art contest for small paintings. I was not able to be present at the announcement of the prizes, but it’s still fun to discover on Instagram the gallery owner picked just MY paintings to feature in advance!
Early works
When packing our stuff to move from New Zealand to Australia, I found some of my early paintings. As an artist I was a late starter (at the age of 26 or 27), so my first paintings are about 25 years old now.
A couple of years ago I painted a few portraits in a slightly off-realistic style and I certainly will go on with that project as soon as my time-seeds are germinated. But seeing my 25 years old paintings again, I realized my preference for ‘weird faces’ was already visible in my early days.
In 1993 I collected pictures from newspapers of people who were in some way ‘in action’. After I had a bunch of good mugs, I played around with the copying-machine to resized the pictures to my liking. Then I stuck them together in a way as if they are looking towards you.
A bit more experienced now, I would say the perspective, details and lighting is ‘somewhat challenging’, but this are still the kind of faces I would have chosen these days too.
I regret I only tore out the pictures and was not interested in the text in the newspapers. The only caption I remember was the guy in the green shirt. He was a golf player and was watching the trajectory of his ball towards the hole. On the painting you still can imagine he was carrying a golf stick in his left hand.
A van, a house, furniture and pets
Looking for rentals
Leaving New Zealand
Some of my art treasures
Bakers don’t need to buy bread. Wood choppers are never in need of firewood. I hardly can imagine a general practitioner consults a general practitioner. And your drug dealer, well … you got it.
Some artists may think other artists are no target audience for their attempts to sell their art, but I certainly do buy art from other artists.
For example; This was the first artwork I bought in a gallery 25 years ago. Actually I got it from my friend. It measures 8 x 8 centimeters and is signed with Kaja ’90. We thought it was an artist from Eastern Europe.
In the same gallery, I saw another painting that hit me right in the feels. A weird anciently scene, a gloomy sky, and in the middle a totally out of placed guy with a shocked face, sitting in a folding chair. Around him, a circle of used tissues?
Those days, in my mid twenties, that painting was way too expensive for me, so I let it be. I had forgotten to print in his name in my memory, but it would turn out I didn’t forget the scene.
Later on, I started my own art gallery in the Netherlands. Beside exhibiting my own work, I also showed the art of fellow artists. One day I had invited an artist to come over to the gallery to show his work and I was thumbing through his portfolio. On the very last page I saw … a painting with a lonely guy sitting in a folding chair in a dark and desolate landscape!
It was still available! I was delighted.
The artist was Alfred Ophof. I organized an exhibition for him and he took care that the price of the painting was now within my range, which I’m still thankful for.
A few exhibitions later I ended up with 3 paintings made by Johan de Wijs.
Here you see 2 of them.
One of the most interesting bronzes was this elephant of Anouk de Groot. On the second view (in case you missed it on the first glance) it can be quite a ‘conversation piece’.
But not every artwork has to come from a fancy gallery … Today in the op-shop I paid a few dollars for a precious little artwork. Even the tiny sign (B. Burns ’82) was meticulously neatly done. For me it’s clear this is/was a truly talented person.
I’m almost forgot this one: http://www.vanlubeck.com/blog/2011/09/19/fellow-artists/
I’m sure this post will get a part 2 in the future, because there are still some artists on my wish list for a long time.
Art journal: Hope
The prompt was:
Create a page about hope or what you hope for.
I never have been attracted to the word ‘hope’. Hope can do you a favor, but not because of your devotion. In best case you get a favor because ‘Dame Hope’ accidentally spills some of her eternal stockpile.
Lately I read about an interesting view on ‘hope’ of somebody with a certain challenge in life. He wrote: “As long as I was hoping for a cure, every morning I was disappointed my illness and misery was still there. One day I said farewell to hope and right away acceptance showed up. And that … was a way more empathetic candidate to deal with”.
He’s right. I would choose for the sometimes inelegant and clumsy, but warm padded and supportive coat of acceptance. Also because acceptance is hanging around right now, while hope is only living in the future. And the future is too broad to hang on to just one unreliable and uninterested ice-queen.
Did you do art school?
A lot of people ask me what art school I did.
Well, I didn’t. I’m self-taught.
At high school I was a kind of self-chosen loner because of the cranky circumstances at home. Saving some distance between me and my school mates seems to be a good idea to me back in those days, to prevent I had to invite them to my home. A child don’t want to be different or having weird parents. But social pressure is a big thing when you are young, so … the logical cause and effect was; I didn’t like school. I wanted to get out of it as soon as I was allowed.
Beside that, I didn’t get much direction from my parents. They had other things to deal with. An education after high school never crossed my mind. I hardly knew such things existed for people like me. University was meant for people of a whole other species. Another planet.
So, after high school I immediately started to work. Jobs like dish washer in a restaurant, cleaner in a hospital and worker at an assembly line in a cosmetics factory. I did make a kind of progression though, because I ended up as the assistant in an accountant office. For me that was a kind of real and serious job, for grown-ups. I was satisfied I had made it so far.
But when I was 26 I slowly started to fall asleep on my desk every afternoon. I didn’t hate my job, but it wasn’t very challenging too. It was time I got serious about what I wanted with my life.
I knew I was creative. People had said it. But I thought it was something belonging to my childhood. Everyone’s childhood, because most children like drawing, painting and playing with clay, isn’t it? I never considered my creativity taking to a serious level. For some reason playing with pencils and crayons on that age felt like cheating. Like refusing to take your responsibilities as an adult. Just like university students, I thought artists where another species too. Not my world.
Anyway … I still was falling asleep every afternoon, I knew I had to make a decision soon, before I never woke up again. This couldn’t go on for the rest of my life. So, encouraged by my boyfriend I quit my job and I started to paint. From the library I studied books about the techniques of oil painting and my inspirations came from the art galleries I started to visit.
This was my very first oil painting, 25 years ago. With a fantasy signature.
Technically it was okay. The paint is still on the panel and not cracked. Perspective-wise I was … well, still in training.
And please do not ask for the ‘meaning’, because I had and have absolutely no clue. Those days I just wanted to put unlikely things together in 1 unlikely scene.
And I have stuck to that theme for a long time.
What about originality?
28 November 2016
Some people say: “Everything has been done already before”.
And I’ve always been afraid that the things I paint are created by someone else once before. That I am not aware of it and therefore I innocently could be accused of copy-catting. A demoralising thought!
Before the start of a new painting I thoroughly search the internet for images that could be interpreted as similar to my idea. If I find one, then the inspiration is instantly quenched.
Luckily it only happened once. I wanted to paint a Dutch mill on a moonscape, but a friend found an image of a comparable scene! I was disappointed and relieved at the same time.
There are artists who are inspired by the work of another artist. I think most of the artist are. At least at the beginning of their career. A lot has been written about the concept of inspiration, but personally I don’t want to see who is the source of inspiration in one’s artwork. If that is too transparent, I think the artist hasn’t fully developed his or her own handwriting. I won’t say then he is not a good artist, but for my own work I find it a requirement that nobody can see the early puppy admiration.
Actually, I’m not flattered anymore if someone says: “Ohh, your work reminds me of Dali!” Grmppff … what Dali?!?! My work is completely different! And it isn’t Willink-like too. Phew, get some new glasses!
I really want to stop checking the web before I hit a new canvas. Both beforehand and afterwards.
When I started my series of portraits in 2011 and just had finished 3 of them, I discovered a Serbian painter who created the same kind ‘deformed’ portraits and also had added a kind of fantasy stories to them.
I was upset for months! I so had enjoyed painting my own portraits and making up their imaginary lives … and now suddenly I could not go on with this project. The spark was completely dead.
It took months before I found back the fun. Months before I could see that the difference between the Serbian guy and me was big enough to go on. That there was room for both of us.
The image on the top left I found on the internet and is made by Justin Miller. On the right side my Agaricia Bullio.
The second left image was named ‘Gonzo Green forest’, but I couldn’t find any more information.
Justin, Gonzo, Slavko and I possibly have been the soil for the seeds of the same source of inspiration.
It doesn’t matter … everything has been done already before. It was a stupid fear anyway.
Art journal: Sport
15 October 2016
The prompt was:
Sports are a huge part of today’s culture. Chances are your life has involved sports in some way. Create a page about a sport you love to watch, love to play or a sport your family members participate in, a fictional sport or about what you’d rather be doing while everyone else tunes in.
I’m a very non-sport type of person and I prefer to save my ability to run, jump, climb and swim for when I’m in danger. Although I walk the dog for 90 minutes a day, the thing that comes most close by a form of serious exercise is the purchase of a yoga mat. I have rolled it out once to admire the color.
And that … well … yeah … that’s it.
Art journal: Lies
6 October 2016
The prompt was:
We all know – often from experience – that lying about things never really turns out well. Many of us learned this lesson hard way. Create a page about a lie that you once told. You can focus on the why, the how, the result, or any combination of those.
My lie is more a secret than a lie. The kind of ‘everything-is-okay-lie’.
When I was 10 years old my Mum got a severe stroke. She didn’t recover very well. Her memory, her speech and half of her body was affected and she was not able to take care for the household, or for me, the only child. Unfortunately my Dad’s primary interest was alcohol, so it’s not difficult to imagine the ‘somewhat messy situation’ I had to cope with.
When I started high school -luckily located in another town- I lied about my family. I was too afraid to get bullied because of a mental mum and an unreliable dad. The other kids could think I was a lunatic too. I had seen lesser reasons to become a target and my self-confidence wasn’t particularly developed. I didn’t make true friends and kept a safe distance between me and my class mates to prevent the risk I needed to invite them home.
My parents were not waiting after the school trips, they didn’t come to the schoolbook-market and I lied to the teacher why they couldn’t come to the parent’s evening.
I made it to the end, but in the meantime the secret had made a huge negative imprint. It took me years before I freely could talk about it.
Art journal: First memory
25 September 2016
The prompt was:
What is your FIRST memory? It’s so interesting to think about the things that stick around from our childhood – and why those memories were important enough for us to remember. Think about your first memory (or another very early one) and create a page about it.
I grew up in a small apartment in the old centre of Amsterdam. The rooms in the building opposite of our home were rented by students. On late summer nights the students used to have a drink and a smoke on the sill of their open windows. At some point they all had thrown dozens of rolls of toilet paper from the top storey into the street.
The next morning I saw long strips of white paper waving in the wind in front of our window. They were tied on the street lights and on parked bicycles and stuck on the antennas of cars.
It was the 6th of July and I was delighted … because I thought this abundant decoration was done for my birthday!
Art journal: Monster
11 September 2016
The prompt was:
What do you think of when you hear the word “monster?” A furry blue guy who wants cookies? Lord Voldemort? It might even be your own inner critic. Create a page surrounding one of the monsters in your life.
My monster is called Tinnitus.
Tinnitus is a disorder that causes a 24/7 beeping, hissing or ringing in the ears. It never stops and it’s not curable.
Mine is a humming sound and it’s present day and night. It slowly creeped into my life about a year ago and continuously disturbs my concentration.
Until now I can mask it with other sounds like radio, running water, a ventilator or wearing a loudly purring cat on top of my head 😉 But at night I’m worried if the volume will increase in the future.
My only available weapon is my mantra: Don’t feed the troll, because it grows on attention.
Art journal: Warning
10 September 2016
The prompt was:
If you came with a warning label, what would it be? Proceed with caution? Do not cross? Something more elaborate? Think of your warning label, and create a page to match.
I think I’m a forgiving and patient person, but what really XL turns me off is if people make promises but never return to them. Do they think I have no memory?
If I have made a promise it’s like holding a precious egg for someone else. I’m aware of it every day and I want to get rid of it asap.
Over time I have noticed that other people don’t make such a big deal of it as I do. Maybe I give it a too excessive importance, but … that’s my personal manual and reply to the prompt; Never fob me off with empty promises. It will irretrievably devalue our friendship.
Art journal: Pets
28 August 2016
The prompt was:
Whether we are cat people, dog people, fish people, or “animals should not live in my house” people, all of us have had interactions with animals. Create a page about one of these animals or experiences – it can be anything from beloved household pets to the story of a rabbit that won’t leave your garden alone.
Most of our cats were second hands, adopted ones or strays. That’s why our reservated part of the cat heaven is already so crowded. I think it is quite clear we are cat people.
Although at my left side you see a dog. She was a refused one too (a human baby took her place). Now we are a part of her research project if cat people can be transformed into dog people. She needs a couple of years more to study on it.
