Friday, March 29, 2013

PAINTINGS & PASTELS ON PAPER - JULIE CLARKE, 29 MARCH TO 7 APRIL 2013

Skull head. Julie Clarke, March 2013 Acrylic paint on Arches® Aquarelle Rag. 28 x 38 cm
Self-portrait with dogs skull. Acrylic paint and oil pastel on Arches® Aquarelle Rag
Acrylic paint on Arches® Aquarelle Rag 38 X 56 cm. Julie Clarke,  3 April 2013.
5 April 2013 painting. Acrylic painting on Fabriano AquarelleRag.

Star light, star bright...Julie Clarke, March 2013 Acrylic paint on  Arches® Aquarelle Rag 28 x 38 cm

Incendiary. Julie Clarke, March 2013. Acrylic paint on Fabriano Aquarelle Rag - 56 X 76 cm

Woman from another time. Julie Clarke, March 2013. Acrylic paint on .Arches® Aquarelle Rag - 38 X 55 cm
Cacophony. Acrylic paint on Arches® Aquarelle Rag. 6-7 April 2013
Collateral Damage. Sennelier Oil Pastel on Arches 300 gsm Rag. 8 April.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

UFO over Melbourne Eastern Suburbs 27 March 2013

This morning at around 7.18 AM I was looking towards Camberwell and noticed in the sky what I thought was the largest and brightest star I'd ever seen, so I rushed inside got my camera and took a few photographs. I was thoroughly surprised that this was the image captured. Is it a UFO or something else? Is it possible that it was a planet rising? Anyway, it was all rather exciting and I have posted the images on Twitter and a couple of Australian UFO sites. These images have not been modified in any way, the first one is the original photograph, the second one is a close up that shows more detail.

Copyright Julie Clarke 2013

Copyright Julie Clarke 2013
My photograph has now been published on the following site - Click HERE

Sunday, March 24, 2013

MORE OR LESS CONCRETE Review

http://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/ArtsHouse/Program/Pages/MoreorLessConcrete.aspx



I must admit that I didn’t really know what to expect as I (as well as others) were ushered into the darkened space of the Arts House theatre in North Melbourne yesterday to see a performance called More or Less Concrete - Dance Massive, choreographed by Tim Darbyshire. We were informed only that head phones were supplied and that there would be smoke affects.
Through the head phones I could audibly hear the words: test, left, right, centre repeated slowly, over and over again until the words became softer and there was silence. I’d already closed my eyes in this almost completely darkened space filled only with smoke affects and one muted, but bright orange light on the stage and felt like I was drifting into a meditative space. When I opened my eyes I could barely make out the amorphous beings at the back of stage that appeared to be slowly changing in an obscure tunnel, from one form into another as muted and indecipherable babblings were emitted through the headphones. I knew what I was listening to was some kind of conversation, but I couldn’t decipher what was being said and in this strange and muffled condition in which both my sight and hearing was challenged, I felt alienated but equally fascinated.  I was for the first five minutes of this performance utterly entranced and thoroughly mesmerized whilst being simultaneously bemused.
As I adjusted to the lack of light and began to concentrate on the minute movements of the bodies I could appreciate the subtle arrangements of each of the performers which generated, albeit quite slowly what appeared to be different, but recognizable life forms and other less recognizable shapes that suggested a being of some kind in the process of becoming something not yet named or identified by the viewer. Because the performers wore identical, almost puffy body suits the shapes that they produced by their measured contortions never suggested the monstrous, indeed their fluid, curved shapes appeared (at least to me) to be benign in their compassionate attempt to be other than their previously form. And, although at times their movements might have been construed as mechanical, since they were performed as a timed gesture, it was the relationship of the human body to the animal that impressed, since I for one could see any number of animal forms emerging in their shapes, a timely reminder that the human is closer to the animal and is becoming more and more in our biomedical future reliant on human/animal relationships.  This was, for me, one of the most interesting aspects of the work for in the absence of information the mind tends to create something, anything, to explain what we are seeing. A kind of mind mapping occurred and at one stage I could see primates playing with each other, at another three small elephants swaying back and forth in a jungle, the antlers of deer produced by clever lighting angles on the performers raised hands.
The color blue, which permeated the fifty or so minute performance, symbolic of intellect, the sky and sea, was a calming affect that evoked bio-luminescence and microscopic sea life.  It was this aspect, as well as the continuously morphing shapes that suggested that this performance was addressing evolution of the human form as well as the psyche; for many of the shapes appeared to depict human emotions. At one stage I saw the bodies of the victims of war, Muslim women huddled together, and people in poverty. The struggle for existence was obvious not only in the fact that the creatures were attempting to evolve to some form that would allow them to ultimately be, but the struggle of being human itself was particularly felt. However, having said this, I was left feeling that each audience member may have been mapping their own psychology onto what they were seeing and this was I think the strength of the work.
Time was pivotal in this performance and the temporal was evoked not only in the extremely slow changes that occurred through the intimate configurations but also the manner in which it was metered out in particular rhythm by the performers beating their hands or feet on the floor. Much control and physical labor would have been required as the actors moved certain parts of their bodies in ways that we would not generally do so. I had taken the head phones off about half way through the performance. I wanted to experience the sounds unmediated, just as they would have been experienced in real life. Towards the end of the piece the bodies of the ambiguous, anonymous performers, were finally revealed, for as they stood we could see their faces, then, just as quickly they became somewhat ghostly figures that disappeared from misty front of stage through a less than concrete portal back through endless  time. I cannot give enough praise to this amazing performance and I congratulate Sophia Cowen, Tim Darbyshire and Josh Mu (the performers) for their resilience and indisputable ability.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

ENZA BENINCASA PAINTINGS 2013



Last Monday I had the pleasure of spending some time with Enza Benincasa and seeing work from her latest exhibition. Her large-scale acrylic paintings on fine Fabriano paper that depict distant and aerial views of the vast Melbourne cosmopolis as well as scenes from the ancient Mediterranean village of Cetara on the Amalfi coast of Italy, are splendid and intricate in their execution and design. However, what captured me the most about these works was the soft fluidity that emerges amidst the sketchy, sometimes drawn in features of the surrounding cityscape. Enza executes these paintings in layers and then meticulously undertakes a trace or mapping of structures that should be solid, but become in her interpretation almost ethereal imaginings, suggestive of a dream or trace-like state in which reality is viewed through the mist of time or the lens of phantasy.
Perhaps it was her color palette or the fact that she used a kind of tracing as the final layer that reminded me of some of Jon Cattapan’s paintings, particularly Viridian Eye (2010), which were also fluid, also schematic and relied heavily on soft pastel hues as well as fluorescent colors to represent geophysical space.  Unlike Cattapan’s paintings which include people, albeit shadowy hints of them, Benincasa’s paintings are bereft of them. The twin cities, the buildings, the ubiquitous machinery of construction, as in the extremely pink painting entitled ‘Constructing Melbourne’ with its towering crane and other hints of the way in which the natural environment are transformed; shown from a distant aerial view, reveal the city as elusive, impersonal and somehow out of reach.  However her use of pink and the open space of the picture plane, like the great expanse of water in many of her paintings, appears to symbolize a calm acceptance and perhaps even a spiritual journey. Water, a potent symbol of life, appears to move through the painting plane purely through her use of muted greens and blues, at other times, as in the painting that clearly depicts Cetara and the ocean surrounding it, water is the primary subject revealed as a vast and perhaps dangerous expanse that must be traversed.
In another work that includes both Melbourne and Cetara, a school of fish is trapped in a net, illustrating perhaps that the artist's heart is caught between a present reality and a desire to return to a familiar place that she finds welcoming and consoling. The veracity of everyday and the way it permeates perception is revealed in the triptych of the city, which she has overlaid with graffiti. Scrawled across the surface the fluorescent paint speaks not only of defacement of beauty but the harsh realities and underbelly of city life. Alternatively, the gestural scrawl maybe her way of erasing aspects of an impersonal space that towers above and around us.
I asked Enza whether the fantasy that I detected in her work was indeed extraordinary, in the true sense as 'imagining things that are impossible or improbable’. She said that ‘It was truly magic to be painting this scene of the ancient Mediterranean village of Cetara on the Amalfi coast. I swooned myself into a magical hypnotic state while painting with this glorious color! I wondered what she felt about her relationship with the city of Melbourne and how it related to that of her ancestors. Enza replied: ‘Cetara is one of the most magnificent places on earth, allowing its ancient history and current stories to be revealed to you as you walk through its little winding streets that lead you through a myriad of paths and surprises or down to its beautiful sparkling beach or up to its breathtaking mountains’. Enza's work is currently showing at Edges Art Gallery, 324A Glenhuntly road, Elsternwick until the 30 March.








Monday, March 18, 2013

Sunset 17 March 2013

After weeks, perhaps months of ruddy, orange sunsets at the end of very hot days, last night at around 7.20PM. after a cold day, we had what might be called a cool sunset  Lots of huge dark rain clouds were still sitting heavily in the sky and the fading sunlight just caught the edges of the soft white clouds creating this moody golden affect amidst the blue.




Sunday, March 17, 2013

Trotting horses + Croydon South + 16 March 2013

When I was a child I spent many a Saturday afternoon with my uncle at the race track - well, he wasn't really my uncle we just called him that; he was a Welsh, merchant seaman who had boarded at my grandmother's house after the war and continued to live with her until her death in 1975. I love horses and yesterday during the visit to my son's place in Croydon South we went down the road to see some trotters. Some were happily standing in a field others were being taken through their paces around a track. The horses were totally distracted by our presence and had to be reigned in when they were turning the corner because they decided to head in our direction. It was all quite amusing as was the fact that the curious horses in the field walked down to the fence to greet us. You would surely have to agree that these horse are  beautiful and majestic, equine specimens.
Whilst we were looking at the horses I saw an amazing looking bird foraging in the grass, I'm fairly sure that it is a straw-necked Ibis. So, incredible with its blue, metallic colored wings.
Not long after I took these photos it rained and continued to rain after I got back home. Such a welcome relief from all the hot weather we've been having!

Friday, March 15, 2013

Our Lady's Catholic Primary School, Wangaratta 1959

I posted this on face book so I thought I'd post it here. It's a photo of me at Our Lady's Catholic Primary School in Wangaratta, 1959. I'm the one holding the sign saying Welcome Bishop Stewart. I lived with my grandmother and two of my siblings at 101 Burke Street and would periodically play at the creek rather than go to school. I was often strapped by the Nuns for doing so. I learnt to fear the black, leather strap that hung from their habit. Strangely enough that year I came second top of the class and was presented with the book Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I have only three photos of me as a child that's why they are so special.

Group photo outside Our Lady's Wangaratta: Photographer Unknown, 1959

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Hot and sultry...

This time yesterday I looked outside and the bright sun (not my friend at all) was flooding everything with its harsh light and eerie yellow glow. There was a strange uneasiness within me that I couldn't quite capture; all the same I wrote on face book Everything outside is still, no-one in the park, not even the birds want to leave the cool shade of the trees. There is a HUSH -  uncanny - disturbing, like the world is asleep and will only awaken when the heat leaves and we have rain. I had to go out this morning, down to the library to use the printer and then to the Post Officer to post some letters. I hope that both pieces of correspondence are received in time. I struggled like most people in this relentless heat to do a little shopping and found that being in a large department store with its glorious cool air-conditioning was the only way to go. I decided to take a taxi home after seeing several ambulances screech by. I didn't want to be one of those poor people admitted to hospital with heat stroke. I'm home and the sultry heat outside appears to match the languid, beautiful and some times comedic & romantic French film I've been watching on SBS ONE. It's called Family Hero (Thierry Klifa, 2006). Can't believe that Catherine Deneuve is still so beautiful after all these years and all the partially naked bodies in the film seems to match our need in this heat wave to strip down to almost nothing in order to keep cool. I've just heard The Rose sung in French, softer than Bette Midler's famous rendition of it and somehow more poignant. So, I'll end there.

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you its only seed.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Hot air balloons...

Sorry I haven't made any posts, but it's been way too hot to think about writing or doing anything really. I did happen to see these four hot air balloons drifting silently in the sky this morning at around 7.20AM when I was outside taking in the cool air. I thought you might like to see the photograph. Interesting because the balloons appear to be placed equidistant from each other.


Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Two hearts...



I read somewhere once, I don't remember when, that women have two hearts - their own and that of their unborn child. But I imagine, whether pregnant or not, women have two hearts, one that beats for them and one that beats for another. Sometimes they beat in unison doubling the woman's passion for life and love, at other times the separately beating hearts, disturb and disrupt the organism like a screeching bird that creates a sound that pierces the universe.
Some believe that a woman has two hearts, one that resides in her chest, the other in her vagina, one that is touched touches the other and they cannot separate the love of one from the love produced by the other. All of self in these two hearts.
What is this essential self that we are being? Isn't this self continuously shifting, changing, and metamorphosing into something else? Is it not continually under construction and in danger always of collapsing, depending upon the circumstances? Not only that, but doesn't this self that we are being, threaten the so called self of the other, exposing them also to risk or harm in the very collapse of our own fragile modulation. Can we really be said to have a self at all if it cannot be anchored either within our body or indeed in any space? What then is this self?
I wrote this some time ago but revisited it this morning. This self, the sum total of all our experiences particular only to us, exclusive, ourselves, residing within us and yet nowhere that can be absolutely located, continues to accumulate and is in a sense extruded with all that we make or create and all that we think and pass on through our two hearts.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

EPHEMERAL SKIN IMAGES + JULIE CLARKE 2013

EPHEMERAL SKIN by Julie Clarke
Skin Gallery, 2013

The first images #1- #7 were taken especially for this exhibition, however photographs #8- #23 were included in a previous exhibition entitled Aut(o)ptics(o)ma. Each of the photographs are close up images of different parts of my skin and include, my wrist/fingers/hand, part of my face/eye/mouth/lips/tongue/veins under tongue, neck, knees, thigh, feet/ankles/toes, arm/breast. The images are thumbnails and are not clickable. If you would like to see the larger images please visit my exhibition at Level 1, 80 Drummond Street, Carlton between the hours of 9AM to 5PM Monday to Friday until 28 March. For my artist statement please click here. Note that after my Aut(o)ptics(o)ma exhibition last year, Beornn McCarthy, the curator, suggested that my work was like that suggested in Lyotard's essay 'The Great Ephemeral Skin'. For an excerpt from Jean-François Lyotard's 'libidinal skin' click here.

My most recent paintings and drawings entitled *Night Sports*, completed in April may be found here