Archives for posts with tag: extinct species

Deep South

I thought I’d post a few images from my recent show, Strange Tales, at Despard Gallery, Tasmania. The exhibition was opened by Danielle Wood, who stood in front of this painting and spoke about the odd interplay of the nest of eggs, a symbol of hope, surrounded by writhing worm creatures.

Earlier we’d spoken about this symbol, the nest surrounded by worms, death of hope writ large. I used to breed poultry and one fateful day, after heavy rains, a broody hen abandoned her nest of hatching chicks. The wet and the humidity quickly set in and so did the flies: you can imagine the rest. It turned out that Danielle had seen a similar thing and had been so struck by the image that she turned it into a short story.

Cloud Atlas

This one’s titled Cloud Atlas, after David Mitchell’s book of the same name. No obvious links with the narratives, but I loved the title and the various associations with dreaming: head in the clouds, on cloud nine, clouds with silver lining; also this idea of trying to map something that is constantly in a state of flux.

The painting shows my cousin Rachel and I, as early teenagers, dream-thinking our future lives. In the clouds are small cameos of various desires and fears.

The Secret (on left hand side) and Pleasure Garten 1

The Secret, on the left, is actually an older painting from my last show at Despard back in 2009. Pleasure Garten 1 is a more recent work, inspired by a book about the history of zoological gardens and, more generally, Indian miniature painting. People are doing rude things in the house.

 

I greatly enjoyed making these Sirena drawings, which are a simple, very simple, watercolour wash and then a small amount of detailing with black ink and white gouache. The images show a slow transition of a fish, with a woman’s profile, into something more complex. The final fishes have internal organs that are more human than animal.

After the hyperbolic treatment and intensity of the paintings, I loved the zen moment of just letting paint flow off a brush and bleed onto rag paper.

Sirena drawings

And here’s some more Sirena drawings. I’ve recently become a bit obsessive about the moment in fairy tales where a human turns into an animal, or vice versa, that precise piece of enchantment. The moment where the creature hovers between the two states…

Tiger Bride study

This is a study based on a short story I wrote and folded into my re-telling of the Arabian Nights: 1001 nights: being an Erotic Memoir, and Private Journal, of the Virgin Scheherazade- a gripping tale of love, death, identity, transformation and metamorphosis. There was a funny episode on Sesame Street about a newt that experiences a transformation into a salamander. Anyway, the newt had a Southern American accent and Big Hair, so by the time I get to the end of my title I’m already doing a kind of old style revival: met-a-mooorph-o-sis!

Exhibition in situ

Nice placement of Deep South in an elegant arched recess.

Pleasure Garten 1

A closer view of Pleasure Garten 1. The original idea was to paint a garden full of extinct species, but they turned out more mythological.

Sirena drawing close up

Another Sirena image, this time with human foetus.

Tiger Bride

Another shot of a painting I’ve previously blogged about, Tiger Bride. 

Zoo Garten 1

Like Pleasure Garten 1, Zoo Garten 1 was supposed to be stocked with extinct species, but this didn’t work out. The animals are quietly contained, in too small enclosures. The composition reminds me of a Victorian board game.

 

 

 

For those of you have been following the progress of my latest painting, Tiger Bride, you’ll be relieved to hear that the damned thing is nearly finished. Today was spent fiddling with minor details such as a the rose petal shower (the petals themselves, up close, look a bit like autopsy tissue samples), the girl’s hands and the tiger’s peculiar harness. I also painted the first layer of the bride’s veil, trying to use the translucent layer of paint to ‘free up’ some of the rather stiff brushwork that characterises the rest of the image.

After fiddling with the painting for most of the morning, I began work on another three canvases, all more or less the same size as Tiger, about 4 foot or 5 foot squarish. One is a funny image of a couple of Victorian looking children cuddling a dodo in a snowstorm (just can’t get enough of those extinct species!) Then there’s a seascape with two girls on a beach, one reaching her arms up to push an animal mask off her face. And the final image is a recurring obsession, a lot like Grant Wood’s famous American Gothic, of two figures standing outside an old church. I’ve painted this latter image so many times that today, when I was drawing it up on the canvas, it literally felt like I was tracing the image.

The process of painting extinct species is oddly unsettling. First of all I trawled through old photographs, and representations, of thylacines to try and work out what the Tasmanian Tiger really looked like. As I mentioned in a previous post, the discovery of their ‘stiff, unwaggable tail’ was strangely exciting, as was an old memoir written by an Englishwoman living on the island during the colonial era. It was moving experience to read, though described in dismissive terms, about the sight of a female Tiger hunting with her pups, nose to the ground as she tracked  prey. “A pretty picture” noted the writer with a sniff, unaware that she was documenting a dying breed.

Similarly the Dodo representations tell you as much about the human artist as they do about the animal. Some dodo images are butterball fat, with enviably chunky drumsticks and squat little legs. These images scream “I am food: eat me!” to the viewer. One look at chubby birdy and you can tell in a flash why they went extinct. They’re the Colonel Sanders icons of the Age of Discovery. Hmmnnn…. that advertising jingle springs to mind, “I feel like Dodo tonight, like Dodo tonight”.

Other images show a more graceful elongated duck. One memorable etching depicts a stretched duck-like bird with legs firmly anchored under its bottom, making it unlikely that the bird could ever walk, let alone run away from potential predators. Dodos are variously imagined as deformed pelicans, bulked up macaws or as an exotic version of the Christmas turkey.