Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The year began in earnest with my exhibition Ephemeral Skin, at the Skin Gallery, Level 1, 80 Drummond Street, Carlton (February/March 2013). Curated by Aliey Ball. There have been over 600 page views of these images on the blog.
During April and May I did a series of paintings and drawings and was extremely pleased to have sold a few of them.
In July an article that I'd written many years before on Australian Concrete Poetry and Visual Art was published by Mark Roberts in the Rochford Street Review: A Journal of Australian Cultural Reviews, News and Criticism.
By the middle of September I was cleaning and packing for a house move and was extremely busy for two weeks. I finally moved to my new place on 2 October and am almost settled.
I was pleased to hear that my article Simulated Talking Machines: Stelarc’s Prosthetic Head, originally published in 2008 in the Critical Digital Studies: A Reader, (eds. Arthur and Marilouise Kroker), Toronto, ON, Canada: University of Toronto Press, Fall was republished in Critical Digital Studies: A Reader, Second Edition in November this year. I expect that my copy will soon be in the post.
Earlier in December the drawing below was accepted for the cover of the December issue of the Rochford Street Review.
In October I heard from Celestino Soddou, architect and professor of Generative Design at Politecnico di Milano university in Italy and curator of the 2013 Generative Art Conference, exhibition (Generative Design, artworks and installation) that six of my digital photographs entitled *Night Sports* was accepted for exhibition and are currently being shown in a group show at La Triennale de Milano, Italy on the 9, 10, 11 and 12 December 2013. I hope to be able to amend this post and include photographs of my work in the exhibition. I am the only Australian artist in this exhibition.
I began taking B & W photographs about mid year and am happy to say that two of them will be included in the Skin Gallery Summer Group Show from 19 December - thanks to the curators Ailey Ball and Kim Anderson. Here's one of the photographs I'm showing - people in the crowd at the protest at Federation Square, Melbourne in August this year.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
On 20 May, 2010 I attended the talk by the amazing Japanese artist Hisaharu Motoda, who explained that the notion of disintegration and impermanence (an underlying concern of Japanese culture) was the impetus for his amazing, intricate lithographs entitled 'Neo - Ruins' that was being exhibited at VCA. After seeing his lithographs I thought I'd drop into the NGV International just around the corner. As I passed the water-wall entrance I photographed a baby crawling on the carpet inside the gallery space ~ his bodily form altered by the slowly falling drops on the window exterior, his body bathed in a strange distortion that made him appear as primeval force ~ a bright light out of the dark void behind him, his light blue clothing rippled like a distant lake ~ or the earth's oceans seen from deep space. I gave a copy of the photo to his mother who told me that his name was Ishaan, a Sanskrit name meaning 'ruler' or 'the sun'. I've lost contact with Ishaan's mother, however, I'm placing the photo here today because it's one of my favorites and because the baby represents new beginnings.
|Ishaan/NGV waterwall. Photo by Julie Clarke 2010|
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
I'm pleased that one of my drawings completed in April this year is now gracing the cover of the Rochford Street Review December issue (upcoming). Many thanks to Mark Roberts.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
The title of this expose, exhibition, revealing, showing and telling was inspired by Roy Batty's (Rutger Hauer) death soliloquy in the science fiction drama Blade Runer (Ridley Scott, 1983). Roy reminisces on his short but very bright life as a Nexus 6, genetically engineered replicant: I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Poignant, beautiful.
I was fascinated by the fact that in the film the replicant Rachel (Sean Young), unaware than she was not human believed that her 'humanity' and memories were verified by photographs; as if they were tangible evidence of her prior existence and not a medium that could be constructed or manipulated.
We believe when we are told, that the photograph of us is indeed ourselves as a baby even though we have no memory of that time, likewise, we view a photograph of ourselves and don't believe that it’s a true resemblance of our visage - the photographic medium lies or we tell tales to ourselves, believing, and rightly so, that we are more than our mere image. And there may be a photograph of ourselves that we have taken and yet people will say ‘surely that is not you’ for the camera has captured something in your face that they do not recognize and yet you do.
We have memories that are not supported by photographic documentation and there are photographs that hold memories that will never be told. Photographs then, are an approximation - memories too, are tainted - they may be buried or almost forgotten; however the photograph may allow them to be resurrected and reconsidered.
I asked friends to provide a photograph of themselves from any era, up to three words to accompany the photograph and a short explanation of the significance of the words. As you can see, I had varied responses.
Like Dr Who our many faces and many life experiences inhabit our psyche and this project was intended as prompter, as vehicle for recuperation, to retrieve a memory that may have been lost in time. I chose to present the photographs I received in Polaroid format for several reasons. It harkens back to a particular moment in photographic history - I was one of many using the Polaroid SX70 camera and to me the empty, white space underneath the square-framed photograph always called out for text. Finally, I'd just viewed Blade Runner for the umpteenth time in my life and coincidentally found a self-portrait I'd taken with a Polaroid camera in 2000.
I had already been around Europe for a year as a runaway beatnik at 15 and was about to depart for Australia. Now, more than four decades later I see a defiant and suspicious young man who believed that freedom could be gained by putting distance between himself and his past.
My only sister died suddenly in September. Her death leaves a black hole.
Art is where we turn to explain and express our grief and sorrow, a place to keep our memories. Art remains when life is gone.
I will do what I love, and be with those I love.
Naomi Faith Bishop
this city wears black well
pockets of dark desire
bias cut. stretching to fit
bodies of thought –
that muscular space
beyond the avant-garde
and ragged dreams.
each street weaves urban
into states of cool opaque
mind full of self espresso.
uncoloured threads of reverie
hem the wake of workers into lanes
where night-graffitied shutters uncloak
where night-graffitied shutters uncloak
secrets. raw yarns spinning shadows
for the heady days where noir is
for the heady days where noir is
the new black this city wears
Left alone, got straight into the lipstick
Today's St Kilda footsteps echo softly into last century's footsteps with my deceased brother and deceased sister. Their footsteps echo loudly. I tumble. I steady. Take another glimpse. I tumble over and over into the black precipice. I will never trade yesterday's proud and lonely footsteps, for today's gold.
At the peak of my clinical LSD experience I was hyper-globular and totally tidal wave wherein I exited my corporeal self. In the instant in which I thought I would die, I was catapulted back into self awareness and the LSD trip. It was a palpable and utterly unforgettable experience.
This manifestation of self
barely remembered - although, she is also me,
lies hidden beneath the
lines & cracks
that trace the surface of
this aging asphalt.
All is ultimately
stone and bone.
I close my eyes and remember falling. So hard and so fast that I hit the bottom before I even knew I’d gone over the edge. Everything changed from that moment. Sometimes I even feel grateful for it.
1. absorbed in or involving thought process - “brows drawn together in thoughtful consideration” - studious, curious, delighted and engrossed.
2. showing understanding for the needs of other people - “she was attentive and thoughtful” - however, most certainly not to the detriment of her own needs.
This photo was taken by Francesca Jurate Sasnaitis at Sappho's Bookshop and Cafe in April 2012. Jurate and I are very old friends but hadn't seen each other for over 20 years. We both found ourselves at a outdoor reading & while April it felt like winter. Jurate took this picture without my knowledge.
I sit unaware of the company of my big shadow, smug, content as it takes over my mood. Overcome in my malaise, depression, flat, without vigour. My eyes! Unrecognizable, where HELL did I go? land of disgust, defeat, anger? A Duality moment, struggle with self.