Bianca Velder Creations

Stocktake

2011-11-05T20:51:00.000+10:30

It is December. How did that happen?

It is easy to lament to oneself at the end of a year what has not been achieved, I want to turn that on it's head and list the things I have done this year. I bet it will result in a significantly larger list than I thought:

Resigned from a role that was wearing me down, first time in my life I have actually fired an employer :)
Changed jobs to a permanent role, no longer free-lancing as an IT project manager
Finished one assignment in the permanent consultant role and turned a project around
Commenced another assignment 5 months ago, more troubled projects than you can poke a stick at in IT
Finished a (short) Uni Course and assignment to "graduate" and gained a certificate in Six Sigma Green Belt (process improvement method)
Renovated a property, that took 10 months of weekend work, pretty full on
Assisted with the organisation of a 50th anniversary and travelled to Melbourne for the occasion
Had a small exhibition
Went on a short trip to Clare (wine area close to where I live)
Started running again, non competitive this time but I like to run
Won a few friendly beadwork and jewellery competitions
Wrote 2 project articles for magazines, not yet published but who knows
Read some incredible books, including Finding Water by Julia Cameron which led me back to the Artist's Way program
Created several nice pieces of beadwork, including a knotted piece that revived my love for micromacrame
Taught a few classes in beadweaving
Gained a new nickname at work - the singing angel
Started sculpting figures from polymer clay

These are the main achievements this year, I probably cooked several fantastic dishes, got pisched more times than I care to remember, cleaned up, messed up, cleaned up again, did laundry, shopping, coloured my hair, went to the gym and met friends for lunch/dinner/drinks, drank xx bottles of good wine and other stuff that you just "do".

Counting my blessings; it doesn't look half bad now does it, it took some unfolding.

The figures I sculpt have a story, when you start on a face it is not very clear what that story is. Slowly the character comes to life, sometimes quickly, sometimes unfolding very slowly. Like this year, of course you knew I was going into that direction, didn't you. I have to connect the topics and content somehow!

Below is a figure I have been working on since August, it is a very slow process with Shiloh as she is my class piece in an online sculpting course with Marilyn Radzat.

Shiloh - Sculpted entirely by hand in polymer clay and apoxy sculpt

To be honest, I cannot wait to see what next year will bring. Nothing stays the same, and that is a good thing. Have a great Christmas, spend time with people you love, as that is all that matters in the end.

See you on the other side.

Sculpting Mania

2011-10-21T19:21:00.002+10:30

I do not have that much time at the moment to focus on the content of this blog. It may be time to change direction completely anyway. I need to think about that.

In the meantime, here are some sculpted bits and pieces.

Polymer clay nautilus and critter, waiting patiently for a patina and finishing glaze.

Turtle, on a piece of driftwood

An insatiable appetite for creating

2011-09-16T21:07:00.002+09:30

Oxygen. Water. Food. Love. Friends. Creativity.

Maslow's paper on Human Motivation was published almost 70 years ago and describes the needs of human beings on a physical, but also a conceptual level. The theory was that the more conceptual needs of people were reliant on more physical and physiological needs being met first. Maslow described the need on the top level, as the realisation of ones full potential and becoming what one really is.

*source wikipedia

Maslow documented that the absence of certain conditions may not lead to physiological problems but does lead to anxiety and angst. I can see only one weakness in Maslow's theory. Creating is as important and critical as food, shelter, oxygen and water to those of us who are creatives. I have an insatiable appetite to make things, anything, something. There must be something about the season of spring to ignite latent ideas and desires to do something with this or that. I've been in a bit of a creative wave in the past few weeks, and that is pleasant, but darn it, the needs on the Safety level of Maslow's hierarchy get in the way.

Maslow's theory and book are interesting reading, I can recommend the expansion of the Grey Matter by reading and researching. It trains the brain to see things differently.

Here are two recent works, both very different techniques but both related to how we see the world. The first piece was inspired by a wonderful tree I noticed on my way to work. Lush dark green leaves but with dark purple hanging flower trusses.

The next piece is a fun and whimsical steampunk chameleon creature, which I made from polymer clay. I dabbled with polymer clay as a medium oh so many years ago and have been experimenting with sculpting lately.

An insatiable desire to make things. Bless Maslow, but I suspect he didn't quite understand that some people don't need much to eat, or expensive clothes or a massive house or even water. But without the creativity, we turn into balls of angst and tension.

Thank God Spring is here, it feels much better already.

New Beginnings

2011-09-07T20:35:00.002+09:30

Spring is in the air, although the mornings are still cold and some days you need the heater on. But the light is changing, the trees are sprouting and I feel a new stirring of enthusiasm and creative energy.

It has been a long winter.

Most years I am not in Australia during the worst winter month July, but spend several weeks in the tropics. This breaks up the winter grey nicely and my mood lifts. This year was different, we did not go anywhere unfortunately.

To combat the winter blues I started something new, a new venture in creativity - sculpting. I have been working with all types of clay - ceramic, polymer, resin and metal - for several years but my work has focussed on components and beads. I started making dolls and figures in February 2010, because it called me and I could and I have decided to expand my skills to include sculpture.

I am taking a series of online classes with master figurative artist Marilyn Radzat, her work is brilliant and incorporates all kinds of found objects, materials and fabrics, metals, apoxy clays and mosaic techniques. What I admire about her work is how she imbues the piece with spiritualism and symbolism, from tao to reiki. The classes teach sculpting faces, hands and arms, legs and torso and how to put it all together. I am not interested in making completely life like figures, I admire all the artists who make beautiful elves and fairies to scale but that is just not me. I like the organic randomness of it all, but with the ability to add expression in faces and hands.

I have made several heads to date and am now concentrating on hands, expressive, slender, elegant hands and they are quite difficult to sculpt. I have posed the heads on large spools of embroidery rayon. These are sculpted from polymer clay and I have also acquired some paperclay to see if I can play with that medium.

Years ago a friend of mine predicted that I would venture into sculpting but I was not so sure. But it makes perfect sense now, life is one blessed adventure and why would one limit oneself as an artist. What is in the heart, must come out.

A few months ago, a big garden table in my backyard was turned topsy turvy in a big winter storm and the tempered table top broke in a million pieces. I would like to use the glass pieces for a mosaic epoxy cape for these sculptures.

Spring offers new beginnings for the trees but also for artists.

The Lasting Scars

2011-07-09T22:49:00.001+09:30

I was watching two of my favorite television shows last night, good television - In Their Footsteps and Who Do You Think You Are. Both shows focussed on War, and the devestating effects of war on those who fight in it and also those who are subjected to it. I have my own war story to tell even though I was born in the 60's in a country which had known peace for 125 years when WWII started.

My mother was born in a small town in Holland called Westervoort, just north of Arnhem on the river Rhine. She was one of 13 children, the second youngest in a farmers family, quite normal in those days to have large families. I know the place she was born was idyllic and wonderful as I did go to the farm of Opa and Oma when I was a young child and I still have vivid memories of chickens, geese, cows, pigs, vegetable gardens and rabbits, I don't know much more about her childhood or her family aside from what I pieced together. I do recall some of her stories about the war, stories that made us roll our eyes - they were stories of famine and scavenging, of constant fear. Of hiding the older boys and young men from being transported to Germany for forced labor and the nightly raids on train tracks to find coals, rats, anything, who knows what the girls had to do for food. War came to Westervoort in May 1940 and did not leave until 1945 after a terrible hungerwinter. Westervoort was somewhat closer to the German border than Arnhem, and it was there that the Germans crossed the border on the 10th of May 1940 and it all began. Westervoort was a strategic place, and they are still finding unexploded grenades and bombs in and around the village.

I remember mummy telling us about finding mainly British planes shot down, sometimes with pilots still in the wreckage, sometimes barely alive, sometimes not. That part of Holland experienced terrible fighting, almost constantly for 5 years, culminating at the end of 1944 with the failure of Operation Market Garden - the famous Bridge Too Far attempt of the allied forces to liberate the Netherlands beyond the great rivers and venture into Germany to end it all. The Germans retaliated by cutting off all food supplies and a hungerwinter ensued that saw most people in parts of Holland with a daily calorie intake of barely 600. I know my mother lost all her teeth in her early teens, due to the malnutrition. That is what mum's stories were about - finding food and keeping it, finding something to heat and not losing your life trying to pry it from the train tracks. The last winter was one of the hardest winters in modern history and it is estimated tens of thousands did not make it and starved to death. Unfortunately, the war had other effects, well described in social and scientific research programs: health problems sometimes passed on to the next generation, alcoholism, depression and manic depressive syndromes and generally the inability to find joy in life or to talk about what had happened.

I remember from a very early age that mum's numbing agent of choice was alcohol, but it did not keep the manic episodes at bay. Most of her brothers and sisters suffered terribly as well, with suicides, drugs, alcohol, depression and other psychological problems being norm rather than exeption. None of which I even remotely understood at the time, I just knew my mother acted "crazy" and that I could not take any friends home. I only remembered the broken family and not understanding the anger or the bitterness. Recently I met another Dutch lady and the story she told me mirrored mine - except that her parents brought it with them when they migrated to Australia in the early 50's.

War leaves terrible, lasting scars, sometimes transcending generations. Let's learn to live together.

Quo vadis, Quo Modo?

2011-05-08T10:08:00.001+09:30

A few Friday's ago I had a birthday. Don't birthdays make you think? Although I don't deliberately celebrate my birthday with party, I celebrate with thought and thanks and seeking. Thought about self and my place in the world, thanks for what I have or have been able to leave behind and seeking of direction of where I am going to go in that next year of my life.

The literal latin translation of Quo Vadis is Where Are You Going and is anecdotaly attributed to Peter when he fled Rome's persecution of Christians and had a vision of Christ on his way. He did not seek directions to the next city or sanctuary, he sought more spiritual direction from God - Where to from here? Quo Vadis, Domine - Where do you want me to go, Lord?

My belief system is more spiritual in nature, but the question remains the same. Where to from here in my life and in what manner. I've journeyed into figurative soft sculpture in the past 12 months, whilst my love for beadwork had taken somewhat of a backseat.

The works in progress below show but a sample of my deviations and ventures into artistic territories. The challenge is that there is only so much time in the day, and only so much space in the studio. Quo vadis, Muse - where are we going, where do I need to go and in what manner will my creative ideas find expression?

Soft sculpture Work In Progress, recycled tshirt material and Swiss Vitamin Jar in the base, fabric paint and puff paint

Sea inspired neckpiece Work In Progress, coral and seaweed shapes, ceramic shell with fine silver glaze (hand made in my studio)

Soft sculpture art doll in progress, recycled linen skirt rust dyed, sculpted and skinned face, leather components

Note to self

2011-03-01T19:05:00.000+10:30

We need to talk. This will hurt, but is for your own good, believe me. I've watched you, and I've listened to you for a while and I have waited for you to come to your senses, but the I can see that you need a helping hand. Call this an intervention.

No, this has nothing to do with that last order for more materials, nor the state of the house or the fact that you have almost run out of clean knickers - again! It has nothing to do with the fact you paid for a gym membership and have not been there in weeks, that is okay. It is understandable, really, who would want to be running on a machine 10 in a row like sheep? Nobody, really, baaaaaa.

This is about your incessant self talk.

I can hear it perfectly, in fact, I am the one you talk to almost on a 24/7 basis. And you know, I don't mind listening to wonderful stories, everyone loves a story teller and a weaver of tales. Have you realised how tiring it is to hear about that bloody sense of perfectionism all day long? How you can't start that one little thing that would buoy your spirits as you cannot spend hours on end? Do you know how dreary it is to hear that constant chatter about all those things you have not done, and how you beat yourself up over it? I think the thing that I find the most concerning is how you constantly feel how you are not measuring up somehow. That you are not making masterpieces, or publishing work, or exhibiting and measuring your worth as a creative against some imaginary yardstick. It won't be perfect, so you don't begin.

So here is the thing. I love it when you get that tingle of Just Do It, when you pick up a pencil, or a needle and for 10 minutes, just get on with that little bit of action. I know, I know, it is going to take you weeks to finish it, so? And you have a job now. And the wind is coming from the West and your lucky socks are in the washing machine and your favorite pencil is missing. None of those things are valid. They are tricks, just distractions.

Hey I know a trick or two myself - this is your mother speaking. Go make a mess! Play! Stop being so bloody serious! Stop cleaning your room and make some jolly old chaos. If you spent as much time just picking up those brushes as you did thinking about why you shouldn't or couldn't, hey, you'd be filling the Louvre with artwork twice over. As I said, this is an intervention, I am meddling.

Go on.

Fleeting

2011-02-23T11:37:00.003+10:30

The other day I found myself in the shopping mall in centre of town after an interview, and I noticed a busker that piqued my interest. There are several regulars, some very good musicians and artists, and some just there cause they have the courage to give it their all. This particular busker looked like the stereotype of a biker - big and burly, dark sunglasses, steel grey beard and mo, shaven head, tank top, leather pants and tats. I noticed he had a small amp and speaker set and carried a sparkling silver flute. When he started to play, the world stopped - it was beautiful. Ethereal, classical, gentle tones, magical flute music backed by some piano and harp. I had to stop, I had to stop and listen, it was such an unexpected moment of joy and delight.

I found a few golden coins in my purse and walked up to his busking container, at the same time I noticed a lady walk up from the other side. She was a well groomed elderly lady, beautifully coiffed, primped and dressed in gorgeous designer threads. All class, high society class. We both dropped some coins in the buskers container and I saw her mouth Thank You at the same time I did. We stepped back and stood side by side listening to the gentle magic coming from that man, who portrayed the epitome of rough and tough. It was as if he played just for us and I could see he appreciated the audience. I was quite touched by this unexpected hint from the universe; it will all be okay, see it is all well. Stand still and listen - isn't this beautiful?

When the musician stopped several minutes later, the well dressed lady and I smiled at eachother and went our own way. Connected for a moment, in a fleeting moment when time stood still and all you could sense was calm in the heart and joy in the soul. I thought about that on the way home and found it to be the inspiration to finish off the doll I had started a few days earlier. The doll had this wistful, contemplative look on her face when I sculpted the base features, and after I skinned the head that feeling only became stronger. Life is fleeting, things and posessions are temporary - all you have is the music and the moment. The doll is dressed in distressed fabrics, which I rust dyed and further aged by the use of fabric dyes and walnut spray. I embelished it with cogs, watch parts for a heart and a lucky coin to depict the passing of time. She needed birds to signify the magic flute of the musician in the mall.

Life is fleeting, and there is a magic in that if you know how to look beyond the rough and tough to the magic of the bird song and the flute's music.

I am very pleased with the way the doll came out and the way you can needle sculpt fabrics to become a nose, a mouth and a cheek. The body is from a pattern by Cindee Moyer and is very adaptable.

Redemption

2011-02-15T12:23:00.002+10:30

Redemption: the act, process, or result of redeeming something or someone: the act of making something better or more acceptable - Merriam Webster

At the moment I am taking a break. A breather; respite, a sojourn, a vision quest.

After several moons of uncut and unadulterated crazymakers, I have a bit of time off. Now it is not easy for me to do nothing, not only is that contrary to my nature but oftentimes I have the feeling there is something, somewhere that I need to participate in to be a useful member of society. Interviews to go to, job offers to consider, panic button pushed when nobody calls you after being at home for 2 days. What a silly notion, but those beliefs are there and will be hammered into submission one day, but not today. This morning I went for a long walk in the nature reserve that backs to my house. It took me 2 hours to unkink the mind and to connect with all those beautiful treasures that surround me. And it was as if a voice said to me - we thought we lost you.

I walked through the steep coastal cliffs on a walking trail, to the beach and had to hop over a small freshwater creek that discharges in the sea. I looked at the grasses and the rocks; the area used to be an inland sea and was covered with glaciers leaving drop rocks behind during the last ice-age. I snapped pictures of the plants and the textures of dried sea weed. I spotted a house with lots of blue glazed ornaments. I feel like I am redeeming myself with the Muses as I used the rocks and the things I saw to tweak a bead soup for a piece that is brewing in my head.

Back at home I received a phone call from a contracting Agency that a client is still making up his mind if I am the right person for a job they have. They can take all the time they like, I might be gone fishing by the time the madness of the world opens its arms to me again. Maybe I need to make up my mind, truth be told, I thought I was lost too.

Rock bead soup

Deep slate blue bead soup

And I keep thinking about the line I read the other day in a daily email from The Universe Talks - Dream Big, why settle for small dreams if the Universe turns the world, positions planets, creates life.

Indeed. Dream big and act large.

Word Up, everybody say - you better listen to your anger, cause it will show you the way

2011-01-23T19:24:00.002+10:30

With the start of a new year, after a little bit of time away from the day to day circus of work, I find myself considering all kinds of things. Let us say that we have around 14 hours of precious, conscious, productive, creative hours in a day and lets us say we spend up to 10 hours a day getting to work, working and travelling back from work. Let us then also suppose that we still think a significant amount of the day and the weekend about the work, is it fair to say that up to 80 percent of our time is occupied with work or thinking about work? And if that is indeed a fair assessment, wouldnt we want to spend that time doing something that 1) makes a difference to us 2) makes a difference in the world and contributes something and 3) makes us happy. And does something good for the benefit of many, maybe.

I have been in corporate IT roles for many years and despite the many pressures of managing projects in this industry, I have always loved what I do. Since my retrenchment by a large IT company 7 years ago, I've been taking short term contracts. I didn't want to be part of the corporate world permanently anymore as I had seen first hand what big corporations do to employees. And I enjoy doing different projects, it keeps things fun and exciting. I've worked very hard to get to some sort of financial state where dollars are not that important anymore; it allows me to pick up roles that suit my skills and personality. Some contracts have been interesting, some frustrating when the project management maturity of an organisation was very low, but I have always been able to deliver. Sometimes at a cost, as stress takes its toll and some projects were canned when funding ceased to exist.

The last contract I accepted has stretched my ability to make a difference, I think a significant amount of corporations have been on prolonged cost cutting and bottom line exercises to the point where they either lost their moral compass or have gone on a downward, unstoppable spiral. I have seen it happen many times, good people leave, no investment in processes and tools and a continuing stream of corporate cost cutting has drained the life and the soul out of the company. It is untennable as the foundation is broken and staff are still expected to deliver, morale is low, nothing works, the links are broken, sometimes irreparably broken. I found myself getting angry and going to work every day with a sense of dread. Angry that it is acceptable that employees are put through the wringer, dread as there was no drive to change, angry that as a contractor you are expected to put up with the crap "as you are paid for that". I cannot do that, what does that make me - a slave? And so I listened to my anger, it is the compass needle, the true North - the sign that things are not well. Anger is great, it is that signal that tells you that you need to take yourself seriously.

Sometimes people don't know when or where to stop. Hugh Mckay, the Australian social researcher and commentator has described this phenomenon in his latest book What Makes Us Tick. In order to comply to this group we are in, we go beyond the boundaries of what is good for our wellbeing. One senior leader told me that she works 80 hour weeks and sounded proud, it is a badge of honour. How many did you do this week, how early was your conference call with the US, how many hours of unpaid overtime did you do on the weekend? It is expected, it is expected that you burn yourself out, that you comply to the herd, even it it kills you, you have not seen your children grow up and you are at risk of a heart attack at 40. I wanted to ask that leader why she has such little self respect that she allows a corporation to abuse her like that. I have also heard people say, just stay and keep your nose down for the money. What does that make me, what is the value of money if you lose your soul and your values in the process.

That is not what I want. And nothing changes, unless something changes. So I quit, not lightly, not easily, but I quit. I don't know yet what is next, I am sure that something will materialise, sometimes when we set the karma wheel in motion, great things happen.

Always be on your side, choose what works for you and what does not. Don't accept things that make you doubt yourself just cause everybody else does. Sometimes it is not easy to go against the tribe, but it is healthy to question the goal if it is not clear what you are striving for. The book by Hugh McKay quotes David Cameron, the current British PM:

It's time we admitted that there's more to life than money, and it's time we focused not just on GDP, but on GWB - General wellbeing. This cannot be measured by money or traded in markets. It cannot be required by law or delivered by governments. It is all about the beauty of our surroundings, the quality of our culture and above all, in the strength of our relationships.

This is the place

2011-01-06T18:40:00.001+10:30

I sat here last year and watched the same scenery, the same cliffs, the same grandeur, I sat here watching the river and wrote about it on this blog. It was almost the same date and the same sort of weather, sunny, still, calm - peaceful. The same spot, the same person, the same cliffs, and yet everything has changed on the Murray this year: the water has come. The heavy rainfalls in Australia during the past year had one positive consequence and that is that the water levels on the river Murray are higher than I have seen it in the times that I have come up here in December/January for our annual trip on a houseboat. A week or two without connection to the city, madness, work and a week or two with peace and quiet and the company of good friends. This year we tied up in a familiar spot, in a bend in the river, opposite the ochre cliffs and we could easily see how much the waters had risen.

Water in the lagoons

Flowers, every where

Murray Princess shot in Sepia tones

And water means life. A cacophony of Frog Song can be heard during the day, but louder and more eloquent at dusk. Frogs are a signal of resurrection and health, and it is amazing to hear them call out to eachother. The other change is the amount of birds, their number and species have increased with the rising of the waters. The lagoons are once again full, they have been dry and parched for many years but this year we were able to take out kayaks out and float between trees that were dry as tinder not that long ago. I enjoy waking up in the morning and watching little birds hunt for insects just above the water, their acrobatic tricks are skilful but often they bounce off the river and dry themselves on the side of the boat. The cockatoos are back in force on the cliffs, their gossipy, vitriolic screeching can be heard for miles.

This trip started on the 28th of December, last year and we had time to explore. One morning we went for a hike to discover an ancient creek bed, riddled with fossils of sea creatures of millennia past. This is an old country.

Fossils, how old would they be? Many millennea

This is the place. The place where you can do nothing but what you want to do. In my case, that is reading and beading and writing. This is the place where I noticed how tired I was, too much stress at work for long periods of time, too many headache tablets and sleepless nights. I don’t long to go back to that at all. And I don’t want to waste the calm by thinking what I want to change this year, I know the same list of last year will come up and it will only frustrate me to let the world in. This is not the place for that.

I managed to finish several pieces in the past week, a bracelet from the Marcia DeCoster workshops in November called Aurelia. And two necklaces, both my own design. I recreated the purple bronze piece for a tutorial I will be finalising - the original was in aqua/bronze. And the bronze/teal/aqua piece is a real bitsa – I challenged myself to create a piece from leftovers. Bitsa this and bitsa that, no cheating, a limited set of beads, a limited amount and the creative brain.

Aurelia

Purple Piece, no name

Bitsa everything

We’re literally motoring back to our starting point as I post this, aided by modern technology but not wanting to connect back to the modern world. As then the madness will begin again.

River bed

This is the place.

Gain in the disguise of loss

2010-12-01T19:31:00.003+10:30

We are all finite, our bodies are finite. Our presence here has an end, a finish, a finality that is at once confronting and liberating. A friend of ours passed away last night, just after midnight. My other half had known this man for so long, you count on people to be there, for there to be time. Sometimes there is no time, there is no tomorrow. Our friend had been diagnosed with a life threatening condition not that long ago, and when his body weakened by chemo and radio therapy, he was felled by pneumonia. I found the upbeat, surrendering, accepting and humorous way he accepted what was coming to him just amazing. I have lost less than others in this event, but it has hit me. When people pass, you remember what is important and the madness of constant craving and not being. I admired his ability to laugh at himself: the loss of a significant part of his brain resulted in humorous comments to friends about the care he needs to take with some vowels as they can vibrate too much. Gaining an ability to see the small things, to embrace every week, never to say this is not fair. Dharma or Karma, or perhaps Samsara. The buddhists pray for difficulties in life as that causes enlightenment.

At the moment I am reading CS Lewis' A Grief Observed, a heart wrenching and painfully beautiful account of his grief when his wife Joy died of cancer. Whilst reading this book, it struck me how this author was able to translate his emotions and his deep sense of loss into a literary piece of art. Art as therapy, art is therapy and healing. In a way, we create gold from lead, by alchemising and metabolising what we observe, experience and feel. Similar to having to talk yourself through certain things, I have found that working on a piece workshops you through life events, some small, some large. And that sometimes answers and wisdom come in the beads, or the paint or the words, and you gain something.

And so I decided to take tonight off from the renovations of the beach shack that are still progressing. I need to metabolise. A heightened sense of emotion lets in ideas and results in a furious gathering of colour. Part confirmation that I am here, alive, using the gifts bestowed on me. Part solace.

I am reminded of that quote so famously uttered by Bobby Kennedy - God, whose law it is that he who learns must suffer. Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our despair, and against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.

The cracks in the heart mend with a certaintly which requires faith, and it is in those cracks that light shines through and wisdom trickles in. And in doing so, the awful grace of God transcends in the Amazing Grace of God. The loss turns into gain - as I bead a little bit and promise myself that I will follow the lead of our friend - Loss leading to gain and vision.

Godspeed, friend, the wisdom came through.

A lotta catching up to do!

2010-11-19T09:31:00.002+10:30

Where have you been? I hear that a lot. Why aren't you updating your blog? I hear that a lot too.

I've been to Melbourne actually, thanks for asking. I went there to attend the Bead Society of Victoria's Bead Expo and to take some classes from bead artiste and mensch extraordinaire Marcia DeCoster. It was a fantastic trip, and just what I needed. So I have some catching up to do and things to show don't I?

In addition to taking some classes and finally meeting Marcia, and buying materials, I had dinner with the Beading Forum gals at the Brown Cow Cafe and it was great. I will not write too many words, just show some images.

So here goes.

Class Romantica

Some of Marcia's exquisite work

Daggers bought from Jane Tyson

Natalia Fletcher - Jones' ceramic work (Peruzi)

Romantica a la Bianca

Dinner with the Beading Forum group, my friend Karen next to me

Thanks to Karen for driving me to classes and the Bead Forum gals for such a fantastic dinner experience, I enjoyed every moment of it.

A wander around Goals & Process

2010-10-30T08:32:00.002+10:30

Last week I had two messages from the Universe that made me sit up and take notice. One was a short piece on creativity portal by Riva Weinstein and the other a video posted on Facebook of a Ted Talk. As human beings, we are such outcome junkies. We work back from the desired result and start flapping madly to get there, then doing it all again for the next goal, and the next. We're taught from a very early age to think about what we want to achieve and then taking steps to achieve our goals. Goal oriented, outcome driven, results focussed - all buzzwords to indicate that even in the present, we are looking backwards. Even in our intimate relationships, we focus on an outcome - the perfect relationship. So if he/she only changes this, or we plan what we achieve in years 0 - 5, 6 - 10, etc etc, we will have the perfect relationship. Even our lives are life-cycled, childhood, tweens, teens, twenties, thirties, middle age, retirement age, old age, we have imprinted unspoken goals for every stage of our lives and if we don't have or are what we think is expected, we dive into depressions. We don't really mind the process, we don't let things be and grow, we are often not mindful of the quality of our journeys.

Phew.

I had to get that out, almost in one breath. I resigned from a contract last week, and it is making me think some things through. As a project manager, which is what I do during the day, it is typical to work back from the outcome, and you plan out how to get there. The plan is hardly ever executed to the letter and that is okay, as the map is never the journey. It is foolish to believe that the initial intent is perfect, it doesn't have to be, all you do is let the end goal set the direction and you steer the ship between the reef. I like process though, and there is a critical importance in being in the present, and focus all your intent on the process. The process of writing for example, or the process of creating order in chaos, or devise a cunning plan and direction where there was none. That is exciting and it is also creative. I've thought for a long time that That Creative Life that I long for cannot coexist with the reality of my current existance. I was too focussed on the outcome you see, and I thought that I had to abandon everything I was doing today as they were two opposite ends of a stick. But is that really the case? Working expands my mind, in more ways than having the appropriate funds to sustain myself, get me what I am passionate about and at times provides something for others. I am really in love with the creation of a project, with seeing it come to fruition, sometimes in a much different form than you initially thought, and the client initially envisaged. In that way, it is an extension of my artistry, where I am just as much in love with the creation of a piece, with seeing it come to fruition, oftentimes in a much different form than you initially thought. Let's for a moment go back to the funds. Money is a loaded subject, particularly for artists. The root of all evil we often call it and that causes confusion and conflict I reckon. Starving artists are praised, artists with abundance sometimes accused of selling out and being indulgent. But I like having funds, funds are good, they are positive and they are a reason to exhale.

Maybe that creative life is like the ideal diet, the ideal diet is a lifestyle change to integrate the healthy choices such as good food, exercise, enough rest and working on your self respect in your life. Maybe in that way it is less of a choice, and more of a process. A life long experiment and roadtrip, not a destination or a goal. I can live with that concept much easier, it is less loaded, less final, more inclusive and allows me to make mistakes and experiment. It also means that there is less of a separation between "work reality" and my "personal reality". Part of the reason I resigned has to do with my values not being sufficiently met. Values. They are becoming more and more important as I grow older and I am less willing to compromise. That too requires experimentation, and introspection and honesty when you make mistakes. This too is a journey and a process, as you don't wake up one day realising that all you have are those qualities and those values.

And on that note I would like to show the end of two processes, both very different. If you remember a few blog entries ago I showed the initial stages of a doll. Major changes occurred in the process of making this creature, it went from a Laucke calico bread bag, to being a buxom creature covered with paperclay and metal coating on the tail and suddenly she came together after much experimentation. She is a feisty bug warrior queen, I suspect she may need a sword in her hand, like a imaginary Dona Quixote, fighting all that ails the world. Red Sonya I called her in awe of the character legendary comic artist Don Lawrence created in his Storm series several decades ago.

Red Sonya Warrior Bug Queen

Neckpiece with bead from Peruzi

The other process was more contrived, more contained. I really like the beadwork of a European beader, Dr Sabine Lippert. Urologist by day, Try-To-Bead artist at any other time. I have aquired her book a few months ago and have been playing around with some of her quite well engineered patterns. This bracelet is called Thistle and it is a great way of using unusual 8mm rivolis or chatons. Have a look at Sabine's blog for patterns. I changed the design with longer connectors as I didn't have enough 3mm bicones to finish a 6th thistle component.

Pale Peach chatons thistle bracelet

Closeup of the components, would probably not choose the galvanised 15s next time

I know I will get questions where to obtain the 8mm chatons, as they are used in patterns by Laura McCabe as well and they are not that easy to purchase. I would suggest that you visit Lisa Chard's online store Beadz n Jewels in Adelaide. Lisa has unusual Swarovski shapes and products and has the so desirable 8m chatons.

Journey on.

Beading on a budget or how to be creative with materials

2010-10-04T17:27:00.002+10:30

On of the latest issues of Beadwork magazine had a page with comments from the contributing artists about beading on a budget. Money is tight for a lot of people and Beadwork offered suggestions how to make your dollar stretch by requesting tips from established and recognised bead artists. Responses varied from limiting oneself to a colour range, or save ones hard earned cash in other ways. Although some of the tips were great, I think it missed the boat somewhat and I therefore offer some ideas and techniques that I use to do more with less. More with less money, but more importantly, how do be more creative with materials and beading techniques. I hope these bits of learning are of value to other beaders and creative spirits.

Tip 1 Know where and when to shop
Visit your local oppie. Go for a walk in your lunch break and have a look at St Vinnies. I have found sterling silver, old beaded pieces, grab bags, belts, buckles, earrings and other bits and pieces to pull apart. Sometimes you can reuse the clasps, or the chain or the beads, just spend a few bucks, help someone else and help yourself. Some op shops even have craft materials for cheap, don't limit yourself to the dedicated bead and craft outlets.

Everything has its use, you can use components of bags and belts to make your own. You can alter your finds by sawing, hammering, drilling and colouring. I've used old dolls, books, coins, vases and lamps to create, just go and look at the op shop with new eyes. Garage sales are other avenues to find something for less pecunia, particularly for display units, magazines and books.

Go to shows and fairs, the entry fee is a great investment if you go through the scrounge bags and the tubs of oddments that most exhibitors have, make use of show offers, show classes, show promotions and vouchers. Create relationships with Australian suppliers, chances are they will remember you and suddenly find something under the table they kept for you, it happens to me all the time. I buy a lot of my materials online, from suppliers I know from the shows, I know what they have, I know how it feels and what it looks like.

Tip 2 Scrounge, beachcombe and forage
Get out of the house, go outside and walk on the beach, go to the forest or the bush and just look at all the bounty that you can find to use in your work. Seeds, shells and pods have been used in beadwork and adornment forever, but there is no need to think that your piece will look like a 70's flower power love child necklace.

I have an extensive collection of goodies that I have found over the years, I have a bowl with stones, beachglass, sticks, rocks, shells, pods, leaves and other bits and bobs that I have found during my walks in nature. The beauty about using things you find is that you can alter them. Yes alter. You can coat pods with foil and resin, you can electroplate leaves, you can lacquer sticks and drill holes in them to use in beadwork. It doesn't have to look dated. There is paint you can purchase at hardware stores that mimic metals, I provided an example of that in this thread. Use sizing and gold foil to change your object and don't forget to protect it with a layer of varnish, look in your garage to see if you have some from the hardware store.

I like to search for little mementos when I go on holidays, pieces of shell, rock, stone and seeds. Be sure to check with customs if you can import it but most times I have been able to bring home what I have found and use them in wonderful projects.

Tip 3 Use Intelligent Design techniques
Do more with less. I love making my own cord, ugly linen or hemp wrapped in embroidery cotton, and with a wonderful seed beaded focal section I don't have to use large amounts of beads to create a beaded rope. Use colour and strategically placed large beads to create negative space and drama. Do you really need a clasp at the back, why not place it at the front and make it double as a focal section. Use leather thong or rat tail with a chinese button knot to make a clasp. Mix metals to create the look of expense, at a fraction of the cost.

Re-use UFOs as components in your work, a bracelet with a lot of dangles can be padded out with small beaded beads, or stacked seedbeads on a headpin. Mix up cheap materials with one or two expensive bits, that way you keep the cost down and you still wow.

Tip 4 Use materials you have in the house
Buttons, tin cans, old spoons, metal mesh, sate sticks, cogs, screws, kitchen thread, bottle caps, chip packets are but some of the materials you can use in your work. If you are an embroidery artist look in your kitchen sink, your wardrobe and your garage for interesting materials. I have used Vileda Naturals cleaning cloths for fabric art, bead embroidery and dolls. The mix of viscose and synthetic fibres means it takes dye but is durable.

Old leather jackets, silk ties and that old cotton blouse you are not wearing anymore can become materials for cuffs, backing for collars and with a bit of planning you can create laces from leather. Experiment with patterns and leave part of the fabric bare. Use washers in steel, brass and copper from the garage in bracelets and use them in embroidery. Those glass nuggets you can buy in bags of many can be painted with glass paint and used as unique cabochons. Don't throw away broken cups and plates, reuse the ceramic shards for your work. Sand off the sharp edges and bezel around them, or drill holes in smaller pieces and use them as charms.

Tip 5 Make your own
Making your own beads and materials can save you a lot, if you do it smartly. A pack of porcelain is not expensive, but the glazes set you back a packet. Check if you can get sample packs from your glaze supplier. Use buttons and glasses and found objects to create your own molds and don't forget you can use PMC to glaze your ceramic pieces and create metal look objects for a fraction of the cost.

A good lampworking kit might be an investment you could consider to expand your skills and ultimately, make your own glass beads. It is recommended to take at least a beginners class, I've saved myself a lot of money and had a lot of fun making my own glass beads.

Use copper and brass tubing from the hardware store to make your own metal beads, use washers at the end of the tubes to create a "well" and mosaic the tubes with seedbeads. Grout when dry and presto. Australian Beading published my mosaic belt buckle project in 2009, this will give you basic instructions. Use your imagination. Copper wire from electrical cabling can be recovered to create findings, and don't discard Dick Smith as a supply of materials. Enamel coated wire can become coiled beads, so be creative.

Use paper mache to make lightweight beads and paint them with acrylic paints, metallic rubs or collage them with paper and lacquer them with epoxy.

Tip 6 Exchange Materials
Exchange materials with fellow beaders, stuff you no longer want are the treasure of another beader. Don't let your cash be tied up in materials that are not being used. You can share and exchange books and magazines, get friendly with the local beadgroups and start sharing. Swap meets can be ideal events to get to know eachother better and you may end up with some new toys to play with.

Tip 7 Borrow from other mediums
Borrow techniques and materials from other mediums. If you have a wonderful piece of fabric, and a skein of embroidery cotton, then grab a large needle and make some stitches on the fabric and use it for backing. User paperclay and air dry clay to create your own centre pieces, with metal rub and some varnish you can make a stamping look like the real deal. Fibre art has wonderful techniques for altering fabric - shirring, pleating, shibori, macrame, tapestry and embroidery. Venture out, I am sure most of us have materials from other crafts hidden somewhere around the house. Wool yarn can become a felted bangle or lariat, embroidery silk can be coiled around wire and twisted in all kinds of lovely shapes. One of my most prized possessions is a humongous spool of hemp, which can be used to create cords wrapped in silk.

Paint pieces if you are not happy with them, metal rubs and faux metal paints can be just the thing that makes that bead or cabochon work. Silk paper can be used as a wonderful embroidery base, in fact, textile and acrylic medium is one of the best substances around as you can use it to stick all kinds of things on fabric and stitch through the layers. Create your own beads by wrapping small pieces of silk around a sate stick or a small diameter tube and coat in fabric medium, dip the edges in gold acrylic when dry. Similarly, you can use materials such as lutradur, tyvek or cellophane to create beads, heat and serve.

Take a trip to the kids section of the craft store or toy store, you can purchase cheap paints, modelling materials, glitter stuff and fabric crayons.

Tip 8 Fake it baby!
We all love gemstones, they add class, sparkle and undeniable quality to a piece, but good gemstones are expensive. Try substituting with gem look alikes. The current range of Czech glass is extraordinary and there are a lot of suppliers with organic looking Czech glass that look just as lovely as the real deal.

Czech fire polished is not as expensive as the Austrian lead crystal variety and can be used to expand your bling collection. And dare I say it, there are also some Chinese crystal supplies that are not bad at all, mix it up, strategically placed these materials can add an air of luxury without breaking the bank.

Tip 9 Use Seed beads to your advantage
Seed beads can really pad out your supplies, I know some people are not that fond of the noble seed bead but they can really extend your materials. Create beaded beads, there are many tutorials on the net that show how to create those to work into your designs. Strands of seed beads can mimic gemstones, just look at those wonderful indian neckpieces with hundreds of tiny seed beads. Use them as spacers, fillers, shapers and who knows, you may start to enjoy this tiny trooper.

Tip 10 Make your own tools
In my lampworking and ceramic ventures, I try to make my own tools. Butter knives, nail kits, spoons, chisels, it can all be used to create shape in your work. If you are a lampworker and you want something different, create your own molds from porcelain (get the local ceramic shop to fire it for you) or use plaster of Paris with a coating of graphite spray. Mask on when you do this, but it works.

Dowels from the hardware shop can be used as mandrels, or knitting needles. Don't let anyone ever tell you that the secret to creative mastery is expensive materials - your mind is the secret, your creative ideas. No limits!

Tip 11 Share studio space and expensive equipment
For some projects and techniques, I share studio space and equipment with a potter. I don't have the money nor the inclination or space to purchase a huge gas kiln. Torches, lapidary equipment even just the bare basics can be shared. Bundled funds are leverage, and that also goes for shared purchases.

I hope some of these ideas are useful.

I wanted to share my latest WIP with you, I call it the Edge of Reason as that is the last song I heard on the pod when I was beading this. Ross Wilson and John Farnham. The top sea shape is a UFO, see nothing is ever lost.

I am still alive

2010-09-17T08:13:00.000+09:30

Despite comments and some evidence to the contrary, I am still alive. Someone told me the other day that September is a known difficult month for people. They have the blues. I am not sure if there is any scientific evidence for this phenomena but it sounds true to me. Perhaps September has become even more of a difficult month since that dreadful day in 2001, and every year we are all reminded of not only the cruelty us humans instill on eachother in the name of a belief, but also of the frailty and futility of our existence. To me September is neither here nor there, Winter nor Spring, flesh nor fish. It is a blah month, it rains and winds blow and drive you nuts as you can't really do much outside. And rain it has. Now, one good month of rain doesn't break a drought but we have copped it. Sweet.

Have a look at the backyard, where a few weeks ago it was brown and barren, Mother Nature has taken possession again. Weeds and greenery have sprouted, and are covering the poor native coastal bush plants. It is all pretty much alive and kicking and I am so not looking forward to weeding. Look at those grey skies, you can barely see where the sea ends and the sky begins.

The renovations of the beach shack are going well, I am hitting the paint pots on the weekend. The painting is my favorite activity in a renovation, as paint makes such a huge impace on the light, the feel and the look of a house. It also signals the end of tedious sanding, repairing, cleaning, not my favorite activities at all. It is pretty tiring though to work full time, then renovate on weekends and well, there is not much time left for other creative things. Just a splattering here and there.

So I will share a Work In Progress. I've been working on this freaky doll, made from Laucke Bread Flour bags as I like recycling materials from around the house. I wanted to fuse metals with fabric for this doll as I decided after the body was made that the tail needed to be in metal. Now it is very difficult to make something in metal when you use fabric as a base, I thought of laminating it with copper foil but that would be too sharp, then I thought of creating the tail in ceramics and glaze with a metal glaze. Great idea but too heavy. And so I found liquid metals, powdered copper, bronze and brass in a matt base. I used a lot of gesso first to seal the calico, and create texture on the tail of this bug creature. I wanted to have a mix of shiny metal and patina to mimic that deep iris green of a beetle.

The other new thing I am trying is to add paperclay to the face to make the features stand out more, that is an interesting technique as I am no sculptor of human faces but as these characters must not be perfect, I reckon it is good fun to make a huge nose and a pointy chin. When I covered the fabric breasts, I suddenly found myself chanelling Pamela Anderson and so the doll has a bit of a bra-size issue. I will see what happens when I put some clothing on this doll.

Here is a close up of the tail, it really is bronze and patina. I am hoping my patina concoction will turn a bit more softer green, maybe I had too much ammonia in the brew. Isn't this an interesting way of using metal on a base that is not traditionally used for metal work, without heat, without a kiln.

So you see, I am still alive after all. September may be here nor there, I may be happy nor sad, this doll may be metal nor cloth, it is all in between. We'll end up somewhere if we just keep going with it.

Fusion

2010-09-12T18:00:00.001+09:30

I heard this song for the first time a few weeks ago whilst sanding the walls in the beach shack that is being extreme make-overed. To me this is fusion, a mix of rap and new new wave. Really the remergence of bands like Florence and the Machine reminds me very much of the early 80's nouveau punk from Siouxie and the Banshees for example. It is a nice antidote against the mindless little girl voices that we hear too often from our radios.

I like it very much.

Between sanding, basecoating, hunting for renovation material bargains, tiling and trying to keep to a budget, I am playing around with fusion myself. I am experimenting with coating fabric by adding a layer of liquid metal and using acids and patina solutions to create that desired old bronze look. That might work or I might set the house on fire (again).

Fusion.

One eye on the sparrow

2010-08-29T19:50:00.000+09:30

You know, I am just exhausted from travelling. It all sounds fantastic to be traipsing around the world, and doing exciting things, and I love that. I went from Fiji, back home for a few weeks, to Cairns and Port Douglas to meet up with some distant relatives. It was a wonderful time, we went somewhere every day, diving, the Daintree, Kurunda, a new adventure to be had every day. I love being in the tropics, if there is anything that makes me happy, that is it. But I am exhausted, I thought I was a bit down in the dumps but it is just tiredness. In addition to the travel, I've started another renovation project, an older beach shack in need of a lot of TLC. I received a little bit of medicine yesterday for my malaise though.

Every week or so I receive an e-newsletter from Dr Rick Hanson, the author of the book Buddha's Brain. The newsletters are called Just One Thing and they contain snippets of wisdom and insight and sometimes the message they contain are just too timely to be coincidental. I think the Universe has something to do with those little messages we receive, and Rick's intent with JOT is to provide little things, small practices to notice those tiny things that we can be grateful for. This week the practice was about the most important thing being to remember the most important thing. And the most important thing is to know and live ones purpose in life. Sometimes I don't remember that, as I look ahead for something large or I get overwhelmded with the madness of life. I take my eye off the purpose, off my heart and off the ball.

Remembering the most important thing doesn't always mean that it is a huge thing, or huge change. In fact, the small things in life are oftentimes more significant than the larger ones. As that is where Spirit speaks, no? In the little ray of sunshine, the rainbow, the 20 minute meditation that centres the mind, the birds in the trees in bloom. Ah, the sparrow, that larky little bird living in my gutter thinking the house belongs to them. Amusing and beautiful things you see, small achievements..

So what are the small things that I have been seeing, that are beautiful or keep me busy? I'll show you.

Beach shack before removal of decades of stuff

Suddenly beautiful floorboards appeared, after many hours of sanding

Beetle in the garden, looking like a doggie

Lilac Flowers, so pretty

Playing around with small beadwork, from Sabine Lippert's book

Body for my new doll (photographed in the nude) made from a calico bread flour bag, give us today our daily bread and creations

I have started reading Rick's book and it is a fascinating mix of science and metaphysical and wisdom. There is so much going on at the moment, large stuff and small stuff, and I may not have much time to write in the next few weeks. I am planning on finishing a few projects, in addition to the shack renovations, and I have a few experimental ideas in the oven.

Watch dem sparrows.

Bula Vinaka, Viti!

2010-07-31T10:34:00.004+09:30

The thud back down to the cruel light of daily life is harsh and painful and not welcome at all. Late last Friday night we arrived back home after 2 weeks of simple, heavenly, relaxed and inspirational time on Kadavu Island in Fiji. Actually, I still cannot believe that I am looking out at the sea in South Australia, in the cold light of winter and not out at the tropical reef from my bure in Matava Eco resort. I cannot use enough superlatives to describe how fantastic the past few weeks have been, truth be told, I want to be there, not here. I am quite sad today, in addition to missing the diving, we have made quite a few friends over the past few weeks and it was hard to leave. Matava is an eco resort on the Astralabe Reef, which is known for its (still) untouched beauty. The resort is self sufficient from a power perspective, if you discount the generator to fill the dive tanks. The guys who come for the fish, bring in tonights dinner. The solar system charges the hot water and the batteries for the lights and you have dinner by the light of kerosene lamps.

The trip over was invigorating, we had a few days of stop over in Nadi to make the transition a bit easier; a lesson learned from previous dive trips. 6 of us this time - friends and their 2 kids and my partner and myself. After 3 days discovering Nadi and Denerau we flew over to Kadavu on one of those 6 seater prop planes, it was not an easy ride. Anyway, we made it and had an hour long banana boat ride to the resort. Tell you what, it is an absolute joy to have 2 weeks without - tv, mobile, radio, and phone. The resort director had to take the CDMA phone out on a boat to the reef to get reception, can you imagine? And tell you what, it is an absolute joy to have 2 weeks with - daily diving, the best and freshest food you can imagine, peace and quiet, good company, friendly Fijian people around you, lush jungle and flowers.

We did 2 dives every day, sometimes 3. And we saw manta rays, sharks, turtles, moray eels and coral in excellent condition. The divemasters at Matava are very knowledgeable and proud of their reef. There were a few challenging drift dives with rapid ascents and descents that made a ride on the wildest roller coaster look like child's play. We also did a few easy dives, nicely coasting along for at least an hour, trying to take in the textures and colours and be part of the fish live. Relaxing, although there is actually more noise and sounds underwater than people think. You can hear the parrot fish scrump away on the reef, you can hear clicks and pops and the sound of the bubbles. Bliss.

It was in the beginning of week 2 that I brought out my beads, I had brought a few projects to play with. And suddenly I was surrounded by the Fijian folks who work and live on the island and the resort. People came from the garden and the kitchen and the dive shop to look at the piece I was working on - a freeform neckpiece inspired by the reef (cakau in Fijian). What happens next you can probably guess: someone asked me if I could run a class or two and I found myself teaching rivoli bezelling. Luckily I had brought a few and Laura Mccabe's book as well. I made one or two pieces to give away, one was a rivoli flower (senikai) for George, who lives away from his wife and family most of the year and wanted to give her something beautiful when he sees her again in September. I taught staff members Mana, Ta and Kessa how to bezel rivolis and we made rings, pendants, necklaces. It was a humbling and wonderful experience, as Mana told me that I had taught her something that she could teach herself in her village and make things to sell. She took some work home to finish the day before we left and the proud look on her face when she told me her husband was so impressed she could do this just left me speechless. This girl learned ndebele, bezelling, peyote and spiral stitch in 3 days whilst she worked from 4 am to 3pm in the kitchen. I left all my supplies and the book behind and am going to send a care package with some additional materials.

So here are some images, I can't add any more to this post than that I miss this place, I miss the people and I miss the views. Most of all I miss the peace and the inspiration.

Fijian Flower

Accommodation - bure

Bead Classes (Mana in blue top and white skirt, Kessa in Red, me in the middle)

Spot the mistake, my partner, the dive instructor, Right, my foot :), which fool steps in with sunnies and a hat

Kadavu lailai (child island, inspiration for my Cakau Viti neckpiece)

Host Maggie in red, me and Weiss

Beach sculpture, we used some of the black nuts for beadwork

My friend Marg and Me on the left with the dive hair, I lost my hair tie

Spot the fish in the cabbage coral, gorgeous textures

Drift dive, trying to stop myself by being vertical

Cakau Viti, freeform peyote neckpiece, this is going back to Fiji to Maggie, he loved it and it belongs there

The beadwork created, the blue one is Mana's, the pink ring on the right is Kessa and the big rivoli above the ring is Ta's work. See how the black nut has been used in the fringe piece on the left. The girls did really well, this was created in 3 days of beading, and most had never picked up a needle.

Sigh, now I am forced to come back to earth. I don't want to, I left my heart in Matava. Bula Vinaka, Viti. (hello and thank you Fiji)

List Mania

2010-07-03T10:11:00.000+09:30

I am heading to Fiji in two day's time and have a significant period of time away from work. Since the holiday is a diving holiday, there are checklists involved in ensuring that dive kit is services, in working order, actually there, packed and ready to go. It made me realise how many lists I have made recently, actually, come to think of it, I have a fresh To Do list every day at on my desk. But those are not the lists I mean, the lists I have made are much more involved than to do lists. Colours lists, dreams lists, fun activities lists, people I like lists, people who need to be removed from my vicinity lists, recipe listst, materials lists, project lists, bucket lists, things that need changing, too many lists to mention. Why on earth this list mania?

I've been feeling a little bit overwhelmed recently, and lists help me get some sort of order in the chaos and also to help me see patterns. So I start with a list that looks a little like this:

I need time off
I am sick
I am not creating enough
I don't have time to scratch my backside
I am in a rut
I always use the same colours
I hate work
I hate winter
I hate being unfit
I want a massive seachange

So then I can find solutions for this stuff

I need time off - book a holiday
I am sick - rest and do nothing for a bit
I am not creating enough - think of some quick projects to keep my inspiration going
I don't have time to scratch my backside - make time, stop watching tele, surfing etc
I am in a rut - do something spontaneous, change the routine, scream, sing, dance, anything
I always use the same colours - use something different for a change, red, orange, yellow, black, white
I hate work - then don't go back, time off, what is it that I hate, do I need to work?
I hate winter - no you don't, you are just sooking. Stay warm, buy socks, make gluh wine, goulash
I hate being unfit - go to the gym, go for a walk, eat better
I want a massive seachange - what about a little one, what about new pillows, new decoration, a trip

One by one I try to do something about thing things that make me feel unsettled. What does this all have to do with the creative life? To me there is a direct link between that feeling of not being right and my creativity. There is either something creative I am not doing, or life really does suck for a while and creativity can heal, if I let it. I just have to figure out which door to take.

I was challenged by Joanne Ivy during the recent craft show in Perth to use a totally different colour than what I usually grab - the soothing, blended tones of nature and the ocean in particular. I came back with a bag full of orange fabrics and fibres and beads. I've started to embrace some different colours, orange and yellow in particular, and they have the ability to push winter aside and brighten up the room and life. I bought some bright orange and yellow cushions and I made a bright little orange pixie person.

Meet Ivy O, short for Orange. This is a little lazy fun playful pixie, there is nothing serious or muted about this little creature. Here she is sitting on my new orange velvet cushion. I keep coming back to making these little creatures, although there is always time for beads, I am working on a few beaded projects.

They may have to wait until I get back from holiday, hopefully refreshed and ready to wipe 1 - 10 of my list.

Nature's bounty - an inspiration altar

2010-06-14T10:08:00.000+09:30

I tend to deviate and experiment with other mediums than beadwork - sometimes when I get stuck but also because I get compelling urges to just play around with things and see what happens. I wanted to share with you what this can do to give you ideas but also, as a very pleasant side effect, increase your well-being and sense of place. A few months ago I took some conceptual art classes with artist Joe Felber and that was fantastic. He taught us to change and "destroy" objects to make something totally different. I had this ring and jewellery stand that was hideous, pink velvet and tacky plastic, you know the ones I mean. It came in two parts, the body and the stand, which to me looked like a sword handle, and so the idea was borne. I find this creative life a little bit like a Quest, the journey to the magical kingdom. The sword handle signified something to me - pull this Sword Excalibur out of fertile ground, here is your inspiration, don't fight it, King Arthur could not escape his destiny, had to surrender to the Quest.

I collaged the stand with newspaper and torn magazine images and words. Then used paints in greens, black, brown and golds to artificially age the stand. It looks like metal at first glance, aged patinaed copper or bronze. I used some rubber coasters to stamp patterns on the piece, and sprayed some twinkle spray on it, then glazed it with cracle medium at some spots. The result is transformative, transformation of an ugly thing but also transformation of something plastic into an almost organic looking goddess, Mother Nature. When I go out walking, I carry a large zip log bag, my pod collection station. Winter is a particularly bountyful time of the year in my neck of the woods, seeds, pods, branches, shells, sticks, stones and pebbles can be found everywhere. To be honest, part of the collecting is the looking, noticing what is around you but also, to use the time you look to silence that brain, not to think too much, but to gather nature's bounty with the discerning eye of a child. This is all treasure you see, for the artist, but also for the Quester.

I preserve my treasures by cleaning and drying them and sometimes I spray them with matt medium to keep the air off the surface. The pragmatics among us will wonder if there is a purpose to this. Indeed there is. One reason to do this is to add to your inspiration collection. I am sure we all have boxes of treasures, or pinboards of finds, ideas, swatches, samples and objects that inspire us or maybe, one day, will get used in just that piece. The other purpose is to gain a sense of Simple Abundance and to have a little altar of things that remind us how lucky and well off we are. As a kid we think the things we collect are treasures, as adults we see them as debris. But they are reminders of our place, our connections to all things living and to the sun and the moon, the sea and the forest, nature and nurture.

As I look at my little altar of Nature's Bounty and smell the eucalyptus scent, it is hard not to feel happy and joyful and at One. Some of my treasures are a few years old, so they keep rather well. Of course seeds and pods change when you dry them, surfaces crack, colours fade or deepen. And that is part of the journey, the skin cracks, the surface goes mottly and dry, the bones grow brittle. But every season has its beauty and its bounty.

Happy creating and gathering, fellow hunters and collectors.

Snippets of a week

2010-06-05T17:09:00.001+09:30

I spent the last week at the Craft and Quilt Fair in Perth, which was a trip I had been looking forward to for a while. I had a few motivations for flying over, not only to help my fiend Jo Ivy from Cranberry at her stall but also to catch up with with some beading women over in the Wild Wild West. The other reason was just to have a break and see a place I had never been to before. I thought I'd share a few highlights of the week as there were a lot of interesting textile and fibre demonstrations at the show.

Sharyn Hall and Wendy Bailye work on two different ends of the textile and fibre spectrum: Sharyn Hall works with synthetic voile and organza and uses heat and shibori techniques to texturise the fabrics. The other technique she uses is digital imaging to create printed silks with fabric dyes. Wendy Bailye is an incredible felt artist who mixes silks with wonderfully fine wool roving to create organic felted flowers, bags, hats and objects. They collaborate from time to time on selling exhibitions, so if you get the chance to see the work of these fantastic Australian textile and fibre artists, do not miss it. Sharyn provides little mini workshops at shows around the country and you can do Make and Take classes with Wendy. One of the purchases I made from Wendy's stall was a portfolio book and DVD by Hungarian felt artist Judit Pocs, you have to see this work. Apparently, surfing showed me that Judit is regularly teaching in the fibre forums in Geelong, Ballarat and Orange so I am keeping an eye out for this wonderful artist.

I also purchased a few strands of amazing organic Czech glass from Lisa Grant's Beadboutique and some delicious Dundas jaspers from Andy and Mary at their Crystal Cascade stand. Andy and Mary and Lisa and her husband Mick are people you always love to see at shows as they always have something special. I am not sure that Beadboutique's website is up at the moment but you can always call for a viewing or track them down at one of the shows.

Nancy Ballastreros from Treetops Colour Harmonies was surprised when I told her that I love her silk roving when she came to purchase something at the Cranberry stall, I recognised her name from her name tag whcih is how I knew who she was. But if you see her creations, you will want to have - silk roving for fusion, superfine merino wool in magical handpainted rainbows, silk hankies and fabric pieces. Be sure to look at the gallery what is possible with those products. I have been making silk fusion for 6 months or so, it is an incredible technique and Nancy has instructions on her website.

Di from Fabric Addictions popped round on the Saturday morning and that was a nice surprise. Di has been very helpful to progress my doll making, talking me through stitching the little hands on the phone. I told her I would be at the Perth Show and lo and behold, she came. I had brought Pondicherry, my last doll creation, and Di was extremely nice about my meanderings into doll world. Have a look at her site if you want to learn about and get good supplies to make sculpted fabric dolls.

And thanks to all the bead girls in Perth who were so welcoming. The pic is a snapshot of Jo and myself at the stall, we had work on the walls and of course we wore our own pieces, you have to show off what is possible with all those little seeds. I am wearing Grapevine, Jo is wearing a piece she made with one of my ceramic seahorse tiles. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed the beautiful city of Perth and Fremantle, where I visited the Maritime Museum on the last day there to see the Batavia. Since I am Dutch, this ship wreck and its place in Australian history is also part of a bit of my own heritage. Magic, go see it if you are ever in WA.

Rejection, Critique and Criticism

2010-05-16T15:57:00.001+09:30

Criticism is a difficult issue for a lot of artists, and I see the topic raise its head again and again on blogs, forums and in my own creative life. We name it by different names - rejection, critique, criticism, perfectionism, internal critic and to me, it is all related to vulnerability. And maybe to a lot more loaded issues as in our society, artists are often not cherished as children, but squeezed remorselesly into Funnels of Acceptable Purpose. No wonder being an artist and a creative is sometimes fraught with a lot of difficulty and sensitivity. This makes the whole issue of competitions so much more of an enigma to me. I recently read a blog topic by an artist who had created an entry for the Bead Dreams competition and was devestated that her piece was not down selected. I've seen this response before, disappointment and sometimes devestations on behalf of the artist and you know, I just wonder with all that stuff. Some artists write angry letters, question the selection processes (and oftentimes rightly so) and it just stymies me.

What I wonder is this - why is competition so ingrained in everything us humans do? I don't get it. Ms Universe, War, Art competitions, sports, schools, films, books, journalism - everything gets measured and compared and the good, better, best is chosen by "masters" and "judges" prescribed to have a level of expertise that elevates them to a level of almost inhuman echelons and they choose the good, better and best. And herein lies the crux of this diatribe: just because a piece of art is not chosen for a competition, does it mean anything? And do we measure our value and worth and self esteem as human beings according to the level of good, better, best our artwork has attained? Why on earth is that? To me art is about expression, so what is up with that - some artist expresses the fleetingness of human existance on earth better than someone else? Art is about emotion, so we have good, better and best emotions? And us poor artists, make us so horribly vulnerable as our artwork are pieces of ourselves and to be rejected by an impersonal art show is rejection of our humanity. My word, what a quagmire of potential psychological drama and damage to soul. I guess some people do compete in the emotional space - raise you a bad childhood, and low self esteem. No overhere, I am much worse off and boing, off they go. Every bloody thing is a competition in this world.

Why are people creating? Are they creating for approval? Please don't get me wrong, I am not having a go at anyone who does enter competitions, but unfortunately, it is not about the skill of the artist but about marketing for most of the competitions. What is marketable and marketed is not always the best artist, but the one who is at the right place or has audacity. Julia Cameron, author of many books on the creative process, calls our inner artist a child, a youngster as she says. I suspect because the art of creation and the joy that brings is pure and childlike, wondrous, with the curiosity of a child discovering its world. And that means that rejection stings very badly as children do not understand the "grown up" hang ups and neurosis. So to does criticism of what we have created hurt that inner artist, and every rejection is criticism to the nth degree. I am not talking about the rejection from a publisher, or a magazine - what I am talking about is rejection from competitions where artists are measured against artists to achieve 1st, second and 3rd place etc etc. Was it always like this? I am not sure, I am not sure that Leonardo entered his paintings in juries art shows or competitions. I am not sure Van Gogh did so, or Picasso or Goya or Rembrandt van Rijn - but I am happy to stand corrected. Competition is a dirty business, just for the sheer business advantages that may or may not come from placing in a competition. Look at the Lion D'Or or Cannes film festival, careers are made and broken, funding received, business deals mae. To me it is a dirty business because of the emotional cost and the psychological damage, yeah, let's call it that. Artists who placed in previous years, not getting a guernsey, egos and illusions shattered, dreams crushed, second guessing, depression, disappointment, anger and angst. That to me is psychological pressure and it blocks artists, I know some people find it stimulating but trust me, the majority of the artists who are rejected and dejected and disappointing do not find it stimulating, I think some find that outright destructive. I know I've had to fight this tremendous jungle out there and it does not serve artistry well, I have real doubts when people say competition is good for artists.

There is another side and that is when you get feedback. Last year I put a piece in the Toho emerging artists competition, and it made it to what was it, fifth place at the distributor. The piece came back with some comments from jurors and a few of them were fantastic critiques. There were valid comments about some of the connections and the wearability of the piece (hehehehe, yep, all the pieces in bead comps all over the globe are so wearable right now) and you know what, they were valid. I put this piece together in a week and I didn't expect it to do anything really as I just played around with colours and shapes. That feedback was great and I found that very valuable. But I reckon a lot of the creative people we encounter on forums don't want to hear about that sort of valid feedback, they just want to receive some encouragement. And that is all good, it doesn't make you grow, but it is all good. I also suspect that a lot of the artists who feel very disappointed from a rejection, feel that way as there is no feedback why. And the why might be: your work is somewhat repetitive, you've done this 3 years in a row. Your craftmanship needs work, your threads are showing and your loops are not finished well. Or we've had 50 embroidered collars already in the style of Sherry Serafini, we'd like something different. Or your work is not popular right now, it is very difficult for us to sell the special if we do not have 90% of this technique. Or we know you are not prepared to write a tutorial for this piece, so we are sorry, we cannot accept that. And maybe some of that would be valid.

But let's go back to basics here people, do we create for the approval of others (and it appears to me that oftentimes people do) or the joy of making something that you just had to make. My dolls are a prime example of what I mean - I've had comments from people that I was a bit silly to make them. I don't give a toss about that sort of criticism anymore. I used to be very sensitive to the merest whiff of disproval but you know what, the time to please others is over. I please myself now, and although I do feel somewhat vulnerable when I show my work, there is no deep despair if a beholder doesn't like the work. I don't care, look the other way, love. Maybe we should stop caring about what other people think and how we may be judged if we don't make some sort of imaginary cut. It is painful when that happens, give yourself a soothing hug and a present and move on to the next piece.

Us humans are weird, we compete for the best weapon, the best showdog (and man are some show creatures bred to invalidity to comply to human aesthetics), we compete who can eat the most, drink the most, kiss 1500 blokes, dance for 24 hours, the longest jump, the biggest muscles and the sharpest mind for Sudoku. In nature, competition has an obvious underlying reason and that is survival of the fittest. The strongest animal or the most cunning wins fair maiden and so the species is ensures of the best genetic material for future generations. I am sure some of our need for competition is driven by biological reasons, in particular in sport, beauty and body building. Although altered bodies, starved skinny girls and inflated breasts do not show off virility and the best genetic material, on the contrary. But we are still biological creatures and as such, we compete. But we are also homo sapiens and we are certainly the only biological creature roaming this earth that expresses art and creativity. Which is part an intellectually, part spiritually and part emotionally driven. And yet we keep on using biological survival of the fittest competitions to assert who is the best, the most beautiful, the most virile. That is just plain insane.

Art should not be a competition. To make it so I feel is demeaning of the artist and the gifts bestowed upon us. But what do I know, I just make this stuff.

Home

2010-05-12T20:02:00.022+09:30

I have itchy feet. I think about moving away from Adelaide quite a lot, moving to my dream of a living off the grid. My dream is to own a house on the cusp of rainforest and coast, half buried in the lush green of the tropical vegetation and the cool blues and sands of the beach. My dream involves images of a house that is open to nature, I have even made drawings of this house. A modular type dwelling in a u shape where all the living and working areas open up to a peaceful and restful garden settting; my dream house also includes a dog and some other pets, that I cannot have right now as we live at the back of a heritage nature reserve and we have a feral cat problem that I refuse to contribute to. But a dog, now that is different. My move away has to do with my notion of moving closer to home actually, closer to peace and simplicity, all those concepts that evoke emotions of belonging and soulful longing for something more. So I have itchy feet.

I thought about my definition of home this week as someone asked me if I ever went back home (to Holland) and I indignantly said: but this is my home, I feel Australian, I have my house here, I live and work here. But later when I thought about it some more, I questioned my perception and assumptions of home. They say home is where the heart is, and that means that our home is in our bodies and not in a structure built outside of our corporeal boundaries. Home to me is linked with emotions, knowing who you are, feeling some sort of connection with your bare feet on the ground whilst breathing in air that has familiar smells and listening to sounds that carry memories with them. I too, suffer from escape-ism, that condition that appears to be raging through people of all ages: the need to escape the city with all its complexities and challenges and quagmires of connections and expectations and obligations and peel off the layers of civilisation back to the core of who we are. There is a heavy burden in complexity, I feel that keenly, sometimes it even feels as if I am displaced, evicted from the Garden of Eden, desperately seeking for familiar grounds.

Home or habitat?

I wonder about that too. Habitat is defined as the place where a person or thing is ordinarily found. Home is typically defined as ones house. I'd like to mix those up a bit in my concept of home - I want to be ordinarily found in my inside - outside dream house, thinking up creative works. The artists habitat is the studio, but I can't be bothered keeping to the confines of my art room, that is just too constricting. As the days get colder already, I think a lot more about these sorts of concepts as I feel a little bit boxed in. We go from house to station to train to city to work to train to station to house and we do that many times a week. Yuch, what a burden. I'd much rather sit in a garden with a tray of materials on my lap, smelling the fragrant air and being inspired by the bounty of nature. Maybe I should stop wining about this and just take the plunge. I'm off to Cairns in August for a break and will try to find my habitat.

This little fellow has its habitat amongst the mosses. I was playing around with dying fabrics and creating laminated habutai silk with mulberry silk roving and the textures appealed to me. And I love the different colours of mosses that grow on the rocks - anything from pale grey green to linen to ochres and reds with a purply sheen. I named this creature Pondicherry, I am reading the Life of Pi again which is a book set in Pondicherry for some of its story. My partner joked that Pondi is Pinocchio's cousin, as he has joints that enable him to be positioned. I made up a little story with this one, care taker of the mosses. Running barefoot from rock to rock, brushing the soft mosses so they can receive the morning dew. Hence the bare feet and the felt hat, as it can be quite cold running around without warm socks.

Homeward bound. No matter where my dream or I may end up, I think any habitat I find myself in will inspire different elves and creatures. Dolls are instant friends, it is seductive to create your own population of little people.

Terra Australis, Terra Incognita - Free Range Beadwork

2010-04-24T17:24:00.001+09:30

Where do I begin?

Typically one begins at the beginning, a novel concept for me as I have a tendency to start somewhere in the middle - of my thoughts and ideas that is. But it makes sense that I begin at the beginning, it is as good a start as anything. The beginning was that I thought I had reached an end. That is the honest truth, I may written about this before and I have certainly discussed this with (artist) friends: I thought that I had lost the need and the joy for my art and to create. The beginning of that is hard to pinpoint, I think it was a few years ago, slowly I started to dry out, dry up, well was empty, I found myself talking in critical voices. I am a creative child, it has been there throughout my life, but the beadwork started after a somewhat traumatic period in my life. I was prolific for a long time and then the inspiration just left me. Or so I thought. I struggled with this, I could not pinpoint what that was, but it was a very sad realisation. Very serendipidous I found a book about that late last year and I have been working through exercises for the past four months.

This is not easy stuff, it is terra incognita.

I discovered at a particular point in time that I had this internalised presumption that artists struggle, and hence I was prolific when I was lost. The myth of the struggling artist held my inspiration back, in addition to some other layers that slowly I am peeling off. That my procrastination in the studio stemmed from really deep and old experiences, some of which I had to dig out and confront. The fear of making yourself vulnerable as an artist, the fear of being destitute and broke, but also the fear of success. What then, how do I keep this up, where do the ideas come from, why is this happening. One realisation I had in the first quarter of this year is that there is a path, sometimes we do not understand it, or even see it, the weeds have covered it up. But then time passes and things fall into place. I understand much better now how that works, and that I have to let it work its magic. I am discovering that I might want to go back to school, that I want to paint my house green and turqoise, that I love some colours more than I thought I did. It is an interesting thing, this unravelling. I shall write about this more in the next few weeks.

I am treating myself with a lot of patience, there is much to discover, much to write down and much to unthink. I have always understood instinctively that I am not always in the driver's seat, I have known that on a very subconscious level. That the creative process means that one cannot be too attached to the outcome, as what we envisage is not always ours. We put it down, I keep saying that. This piece needed to be put down, I have been working on it for weeks. Weaving ribbons of road, meandering from one thought and idea and revelation to the next. Reflecting on where I am and where I want to go, and more importantly what I believe and stand for. There comes a time in a person's life where those concepts need to be lived and experiences and spoken out loud every day. At first I wanted to call this piece Alchmist, or the Artists' Alchemy as we practice a form of alchemy. But then it turned into Terra Australis, Terra Incognita - I call this Free Range beadwork, that egg was dropped where it may, baby.

It meanders from the red earth of this beautiful country I call home, to the rocks of the mountains down to the forests and the sea.

A good friend accross the Tasman sent me a link to Ted.com several weeks ago, in particular, a link to a speech by Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Love, Pray. Why don't you watch this and then come back to Terra. You know, this is one of the most touching and moving speeches on creativity I have ever seen, the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I know this to be true. I do not profess to be touched by the Gods like the dancer in Elizabeth's speech, but some of the Spirit's Breath inspires this work, for all of us. We are gifted with it, us creative peoples.

Ole to you, Fellow Traveller. Or Kia Kaha, in honor of my friend, you know who you are.

This is for you, Jenny.

No Soup For You!

2010-03-27T17:51:00.000+10:30

After a totally exhausing week at work, I had no desire whatsoever to do anything bar rest and recharge some batteries. I came home Friday night and couldn't think straight, I was so tired. I slept for a long time and woke up groggy and not very refreshed. So I decided to make soup. Yes, it was the perfect day for soup. Not the eating variety, although I love making those as well. My beef vegetable soup is quite famous in a small part of the world. I make my soup from scratch, starting with several good pieces of osso bucco and some gravy beef in a pot of water with bay leaves, pepper corns and bouquet garni. That simmers for hours, I start with way too much water and end up with enough stock. The stock is clarified, the meat cut and put back in the stock and then I fill up the soup with fresh vegetables. I also use vermicelli and I make meatballs with lots of garlic and they go in last. So when the soup is finished, the flavors are incredible and all you need to do is toast some home made bread, pumpkin or cheese bread will do, and you have a fabulous meal.

But that was not the soup I made today. I made bead soups. Several weeks ago I received the Beverley Ash Gilbert book - Beaded Colourways and I have thumbed through it so many times it is already creased and folded. The books is what I call permissive; it is accessible and allows you to play with colour and free form beadweaving no matter what your level of experience. I knew the book would be great when I read the first line in the artist's introduction - I am like you. I have an artist inside yearning to create. I loved that line, and it made me feel connected to the author as I know it is a true statement. The book describes how you can mix monochromatic beadmixes; bead soups, and create organic and living wearable art pieces with those bead soups. Monochromatic may not sound very exciting, but it is. The soups that you can create guided by Beverley's book are complex in colour, they break down the things you see around you in colour families and once you understand that concept, you can mix the most amazing bead soups. This introduces depth in bead work and exciting colour graduations that can be smooth or high in contrast, but always, always dramatic.

I love colour. I love what colour does to me and how I can play with colour to enhance a colour or make it blend in. This is why I like this book, there is play and freedom and the enjoyment Beverley wants to pass on is palpable from the pages. So today I mixed soups. I started with a red mix, red is not a colour I would grab automatically, my colours are earthy, greens, teals, browns, oranges and natural colours. That is what I love, that is what I wear, that is what I see. Beverly mentions the book Colour Me Beautiful, which was somewhat of a fad in the 80's, everyone had their 'seasons' done. I am a borderline Autumn/Spring and I look better in natural colours with warmth, although black brings out the green in my eyes. But I wanted to use red and it turns out I have more red beads than I thought. The bead soup is the red earth of Australia, you know the red I mean. I used almost 20 colours of seed beads, pearls, agate tubes, some handmade dichroic lampwork and a few orange stones.

I also made a yellow green and a teal blue bead soup. And a transition bead soup that uses small quantities of beads of every main soup and some neutral beige.

By mixing the transition soup with more of the main soups, I can make the blending of the colours in a piece more gradual. The transition soup has some hand made raku fired clay beads, you can see the oil sheen on them. They were fired in a cookie tin and I think they will make the blend pop.

I am going to use these soup mixes in a neck piece. I really enjoyed this process, I was able to mix in bead colours that are just not me and achieve a depth that really mimics nature. My partner thought they looked like sand, with many nuances and tonalities and that is exactly what I wanted.

No soup for you today, but some bead soup. If you can, have a look at Beverley's book, I managed to find it in Australia but Beverley sells it from her web site along with spectacular bead soups and fibre mixes you can use in bead work as well. Beverley's blog is delightful, she lives in a beautiful area of the world and that shows in her bead work.

I hope that she decides to come to Austrlalia one day, to wander and go walkabout in the Aussie outback. So many colours there that you can see nowhere else in the world. Now that I know how to blend soups, I can make an attempt to recreate some of those colours in my bead work. Very exiciting.

When a teacher becomes a student

2010-03-21T17:21:00.000+10:30

I have been teaching and mentoring for several years, both in a professional and creative capacity. As a teacher, I believe in the role of stewardship, people may pay to be in a class with me and that means I have obligations to make the class as informative and sharing as possible I also have a duty of care to protect and nurture students, to make them feel confident and build on their self esteen. Some students come to the class with a reasonable amount of doubt about their own abilities, may have been criticised unduly in their lives and may have had to negotiate with their family to have the time to learn something that takes them away from their family. The class is not about me, I am the conduit, the sounding board, the transformer of skills and experience to practical application. I inject a reasonable amount of humor and war stories in my classes, particulary when I teach professoinal skills or mentor recent University students. One of the teaching skills I have learned over the years is to structure classes such that there is maximum transfer of knowledge but also time for repetition, tips, and value add tutoring. You never ever ridicule students, you do not dismiss them, some may feel quite vulnerable as they are learning something new and that may be difficult. For example, I have taught scuba diving to doctors and lawyers and that means you have very intelligent and skilled people who are suddenly out of their comfort zone. You need to understand that, recognise it when it happens and be prepared with strategies to manage those situations.

I went to a writing course this weekend where most of these principles were not exercised and it is bothering me.I love writing. I love painting with words and I have had a dream for a few years to write a book. A few months ago I enrolled in a non fiction book workshop, with a reputable writer and journalist of 30 odd years. That bode well, I had been looking forward to this for a while. Here's what happened:

The class started 45 minutes late.
The tutor did not set out the structure of the workshop, rules of the road, safe environment nor did she point out the loos, kitchen, at what time there would be a break
The introductons took 1 hour, the class had 25 students, that is too much
We had to write a short paragraph about our book, which was then critiqued by the tutor. Not only did she dismiss some students outright, this process took 2 hours, and at no point in time were statements made about it being a safe environment.
She criticised one student about the book idea they had and proceeded to make a statement about the book idea that was based on tutor misunderstanding a statement made by the student. Another student stepped in to support the first student and tutor had to back down.
We then had to write titles for our books, and these were critiqued by everyone (big no no).
The tutor did not know about IP, Copyright and Creative Commons guidelines but made recommendations to students about using other people's quotes, photos and work that were outright illegal. One student made some suggestions to research this area properly (me) and offered some web site addresses.
The tutor discouraged the use of the internet for research.
The tutor discouraged investigating self publishing, she did not believe in it but had to backpeddle when one student asked some probing questions about the role of the internet in book publishing and challenged tutor's opinions (not me).
The tutor discouraged the use of a pseudonym and did not believe in that either.
The tutor was asked how to get past creative block and proceeded to tell students that Creative Block is nonsense, she has never had that and doesn't believe in it. This made some students cringe.
Tutor did not encourage networking or online writing groups, she did not believe in those, in fact, she never uses the internet.
Techniques for writing, editing and submitting books did not start until 2.30, workshop ended at 3.30.
Tips for getting past the gatekeeper at a publisher were not provided until 3.25 when one student finally piped up to ask the question (me).
Tutor handed out evaluation forms and asked students not to make statements that would put her out of a job.

To me this class was not only a shambles, I thought it was outright damaging to one of the students who finally got his courage together and was hammered down by an opinionated writer with perhaps some talent and experience, but lacking in the stewardship and open mindedness categories. I know how difficult it is to teach teachers, educational experts, I realise that it must be daunting to have students like me who challenge and ask and question to maximise the learning. It has been bothering me how this class went and I wanted to write about it, not just to have a good old whinge but to ask for some feedback about teaching styles my blog readers have found most efficient and pleasant.

So let me have it, am I too demanding or are there teaching methods that have been proven to work.

Creation Evolution

2010-03-08T17:59:00.001+10:30

Creation is not an absolute idea-doing-product type process. Ideas and inspiration percolate and change throughout the process. I feel most times that I am out of control, I hand over the reigns and I put it down or make it. I have written about this before, that notion that we as artists are merely conduits and not really in the drivers' seat. The muse feeds what we do, and oils the creation aparatus or changes the blueprint along the way. I find that exciting, the piece knows what it wants to be and just flows out of your hands. At the end of it, I sometimes sit back and stare in amazement; when it is time to let it go.

Several weeks ago I had a dream, in the twilight zone between sleep and awakening. I had been writing quite a bit about creativity in my journal that day, what that means to me and how ideas come to me. I use my journal to process through daily events but also creative ideas and things that stop me from being creative. The dream jumped out, I typically do not remember all of them, some stand out like the proverbial dogs balls and that means they have some deeper meaning. My dream was about the Muse, and she came to me as a queen, shrouded in robes with all these patterns and inspiration bubbles attached to it. Her face was open and the look in her eyes one of brutal honesty, round large eyes with the colour of the seas. She wore a crown on her head, which was really a bird cage and little birds were flying out of the cage. I knew at once that this is where she keeps the inspiration birds that she sends out to us artists. She held out something to me in her hands and I had to get closer to see what it was - a tiny birds' nest with small golden eggs in the nest. I took that to mean she was offering me that embryonic spark of inspiration and it had to be nurtured a bit before it hatched.

The next day I tried to draw her in my art journal and although I am not skilled at all in drawing (except I can draw a good rabbit according to some), I captured her somehow, not the details, but the essence. The Muse Queen stayed with me for a while, I spoke to some arty friends about her, how to make her in fabric, how to make the little bird cage crown so it is light and does not make the fabric head flop. Once I started on the body, she changed and I just had to go with it. She did not want to be queen, but preferred a support role: the role of Dreamweaver or Dreamcatcher. This one is called Lydia and she is a pro, you can see it by the big hands, the head dress that will tune in to the dreams that we have and the bag on her hip to put the dreams in.

This is a large doll, I had to photograph her in one of the niches in my hallway, the weather here has been shocking and without sunlight now that autumn has suddently set in. This was great fun, making the hands is not easy but perseverance got me through. I like making larger dolls, you can decorate more and use the larger surfaces for creative use of textiles and beads. I made the dress from hand dyed silk and the top is a mix of silk fusion, straight on the body and dyed scallop lace.

I have to say, I have never heard of this species of faeries, but I am assured by someone in the know that they are well known creatures. I like to think they play around in the world, running from artist to artist. Spreading the inspiration around.

So this was creation evolution, starting as a queen, ending as some sort of faery. The image below is a closeup of Lydia's bag, belt and bracelet. I've used a bead soup consisting of bronzes, turqoise, some pink lined peach and an opaque green/pink AB, all from Cranberry.

It is great fun making these semi humans, their personalities start to shine through really quickly. In the last image you can even see a piece of doll thigh, they are pretty life like. As I said, I am not much use with pencils and markers, but I managed to make a bit of a face. The nose is very small and I have not defined it much with brown pencil, but since Lydia is not of this world, I find that quite acceptable.

I like crossing over to many mediums - no boundaries, no blocks, no concept of staying within the borders. My friend Steph called it artist without borders, I am going to borrow that terminology - Une Artiste sans Frontiers............

This I know to be true

2010-03-01T20:20:00.001+10:30

This I know to be true: life just goes way too quick.

Today is the first day of Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere, or Fall as our friends on the other side of the world in the US call it. Fall. I think that is a better name than Autumn, albeit that Autumn has a much more romantic ring to if. Fall. Let's call it out what it is. Things fall. Leaves mainly, but also the temperature as I found out this morning. What else is unstoppably affected by gravity - some of my mood, and of course parts of my anatomy that once upon a time used to be pert and firm. Fall. Life just goes way too quick, this I know to be true.

There are many things I admire, that inspire me to be more, stretch, take off, move ahead. I am not a naturally pessimistic person, but I am fairly introspective funny enough. Yeah, there you were thinking I am just another extraverted exuberant mouthpiece. I am not, I have a fairly well developed ability to look inside. Introspection sometimes makes you an observer of people and that is at times revealing. There are many things I admire, many people that push me, humble me. Lately I have been seeing a lot of people talking about time, how it eludes us, slips through our fingers, how there is less of it to haste and that is scary for most of us. How we all change and our outlook changes, our outlook on life, on ourselves.

I really admire people who have found their sense of authenticity, you can always tell can't you, they have a way about them that is real. You can relate to them, you can see what is on the inside and how this project on the outside. Many of these people have found their authenticity later in life, a lot of women I know talk about the magic 40's. And I have to admit, with my birthday closing in on me and already being in my mid 40's, it is clear to me that my authenticity has gone up a notch. Or so I hope. I still don't know when to be quiet and shut up at particular moments, I still find it difficult to break patterns that I developed many years ago. But I can hear my inner voice so much louder than when I was young and didn't have a clue.

Due to all kinds of life events, I don't have any childhood pictures, I don't even have one from my teens. My collection starts at my early 20's and even in the years between then and now, I don't have that many images that I like. Where you can see that it is me. But I found some, old and scratched, I had to scan these in, mind you, so the quality is not good. Be warned, there is a bit of a poodle perm in one of them, with my friend Maggie, just before she left for New York on her scholarship with the Martha Graham School of Dance. All of these were taken in Amsterdam. I am around 23 in the pic with Maggie, so that is the 80's, and I think velvet suited me. The image with the hand pose, I suspect that was late 20s, 28 or 29. The close up with the shaggy hair was before I got married, so I was 19 or just 20.

Looking back, I have to admire myself in a way. You see, those were hard times, I had no idea who I was, I was extremely shy (hard to believe now) and I chose to be in an ill fated marriage and I was constantly busy pleasing everyone around me. My friend Maggie left to pursue her creative dream and I did not. Not until later in life.

This I know to be true. Life goes just way too quick, strawberry blond has always been my summer colour and freckles stay with you for life. I also know that if creativity and art was where I was supposed to end up, it would happen. And it did.

The years in between were just training wheels. I am working on the authenticity, but I've always been a bit real. Realness sticks for life too. Shame bout the freckles.

The importance of a kitchen table

2010-02-13T11:30:00.000+10:30

Kitchen or dining room tables should be recognised for what they are: the centre of the universe. They come in all shapes and sizes: large, small, round, rectangular, square. They come in all kinds of materials: glass, wood, stone, mosaic, metal, formica, veneer, MDF. But they all have something in common. Creations are dreamt up, stories written, tears dried, arguments settled, love lives discussed, homework done, children told off or told about the birds and the bees. Many years ago I met and fell in love with the ideal table, it was at my foster parents Herman and Frieda's house, they were hippies and had an old house on one of the canals in Amsterdam. They took in stray children and young adults, although there were probably pretty young themselves at the time. Social misfits as they were, I recall Herman studied philosophy and Frieda was an avid feminist who wrote and taught, they took in people who had nowhere else to go. Like me, I was 13 and innocent yet traumatised by years living with a manic depressive mother. Although I was younger than some of the others in the house, they did not want me to get lost in the dead end of Child Services. And so there I was, in a house full of books, intellect, candles, organic food, home made bread and the most interesting group of people I have ever met or will ever meet. The house was old, it was listing so much that it had to be held up with large beams. It was painted in many colours and had 3 stories and an attic. My bedroom was under the roof, it had housed pigeons before I moved in, in fact, an old cage was still hanging from one of the roof trusses when I came into H&F's roost. I had scrubbed the walls and caulked it white, I used cat litter mixed into the paint as texture and to hide the worst damage. That was my domain. I went to school but truth be told I was much more interested in sitting at the kitchen table and listening to the adults discuss politics, women's lib, poverty, the environment and the evils of real estate speculation that left a lot of people homeless whilst big moguls had massive real estate stocks empty.

The kitchen table was made of pine, solid pine. It was an old farm house kitchen table, it had lived for many years already when Herman moved it in. It was very heavy and had scratches on it and a patina caused by decades of hands and elbows and plates of food. It was covered with and surrounded by book cases, art, candles, indian jewellery, incense burners and craft materials. I loved that table. I loved sitting at it. I loved reading my books and doing my homework. I loved claying and drawing and writing in my diary at it. I loved eating the food at the table, and helping to cook it. I remember having my 14th birthday, Herman made an apple pie, I can still see it when I close my eyes.. There was not much money to go around, I have to admit at times we resorted to looting some of the crates that were delivered during the night to the milk merchants, but not often, and I am sure that some debt was paid to society by all the good things Herman and Frieda did. I can still see that apple pie, I dream about it sometimes, Herman had made the number 14 from the dough and put it on top of the pie. I turned 14 on that kitchen table. By that stage I was reading Gloria Steinem, Rilke and Che Guevarra, although I was still very shy and somewhat damaged. That place was haven to me, but the years of unpredictablity had taken its toll and I found it hard to trust people and come out of my shell. I wish I had some photos of those days, I had a few but they got lost in the 32 odd years after my 14th birthday.

This is why I am so aware of the importance of tables. I am still looking for my own solid wood, living, breathing, loving table to be the centre of my universe. I have already envisaged the house that it will be living in, lots of air and space and inside outside living areas. The dining table I have in my house today is too fragile although it is beautiful and elegant. It cannot sustain the impact of creativity, nor wild dinner parties for that matter. Or the light that comes in through the windows, its laquer is chipping off on the table top. But for the moment she is all I have to work with and work on. It is Creativity HQ, this is where I do some of my beadwork, writing, claying and fibre and textile experiments. I have a studio as well and a workshop for the ceramic and the hot glass activities. My studio is a room with lots of book shelves, a couch and a coffee table and several display areas. But it is the dining table that I gravitate to for most of the work. So here she is, and the view I have from the windows. Many people ask me why do you tend to use sea colours - well, uhm, it is a little bit like this. That is what I see, every day.

My table is still full of scratches and shows that she has lived a few years, she doesn't even come close to the big ol'e table I remember so vividly from my formative years.

One day I will have one just like that.

Self portrait of a recovering artist

2010-02-06T09:38:00.001+10:30

Who are you? Who are you really, not the face you present to the world, but your innermost person. The one you really are, instead of the one you really do. I always say to people that I do projects, I am not a project manager when they ask me what I do for a crust. The reason for that distinction is that I don't want to measure my worth according to the title I have. I want to measure my worth according to my humanity and my flaws and my gifts and the things I do and create. Since New Year's Eve I have been committed to a program called The Artist's Way, which is a book and a 3 month process for recovering artists with creative block. As that is who I am, an artist, a creative being, but it is time to rediscover that inner person. It is not easy to do this program, many days I have wanted to give up because it seemed easier. If you want to know a bit more about it, have a look at the writer's web site - The Artists Way.

One of the things I tend to do is to censor some of my ideas with an internal Oh don't be silly. You can't make that, that idea is ridiculous. You want to make WHAT? A wall hanging, upholstery, a book, shoes? Where did that come from? Maybe that is why I found myself with some form of creative block, I'd been saying things to myself a few times too many. I am unearthing a lot of lost ideas, forgotten creative activities from my childhood. It is a satisfying yet unsettling process, unearthing means that worms may turn up, or weird little critters that scurry all over the place to hide themselves under rocks. In the past few weeks, since I started the program, a little voice has been piping up in me to create a self portrait. Some form of documentation of who I am and how I perceive myself right at this moment. It took a bit of time to dig out what that needed to look like but when I remembered that I used to love making dolls as a child, the decision was made.

There is a little story behind this self portrait, I visited my favorite news agent a few weeks ago to look through magazines. A lady was standing next to me, my age, nice looking, and she said to me: can you reach out for that issue of Cloth Paper Scissors as there is an article about making dolls I want to read. I gave her the magazine and took a copy for myself and we started talking over the articles. She said to me you know, I have wanted to make something fun like that, but I just can't seem to be able to do it, I am too serious, life gets in the way. Ah, that I know well, I said, the answer is to just show up, just do it, not overthink it all, it does not have to be perfect (I had learned that lesson recently). Just show up. She looked at me and said I really needed to hear that today, thank you. And I really needed to find something about making dolls, so I bought the magazine. Synchronicity. I should have given her my contact details, so if you have heard someone tell this story from the other side, let my fellow doll maker know I am on the web. It would be great to compare what we made.

My self portrait is the way I see myself - Nature Girl. My favorite colours and textures, holding my head such that I can hear the whispers of the Spirit and the crashing of the waves. Nature Girl wears a dress of hand dyed olive, teal and green silk and a leaf necklace of course. The hair is a funny mix of brown, caramel and grey blonde, just like mine.She has a copper cuff, as that metal suits her, and she carries a stick. This could indicate the fossicking temparement of Nature Girl, looking through flotsam to find bits to use in the art works she makes. Or it could be because once in a while she likes to use that stick, to prod, to point or to hit someone gently over the head. You, cut the crap! I've also included a close up. Fatally flawed and nobbly, but oh so human. It was difficult to take a decent picture of my self portrait, I had to perch her on a piece of rio wire on the steps in my living room. She doesn't have a stand yet, I am dragging her with me through the house at the moment, so she can sit next to me when I write or bead. Or make a friend for her, I have an idea for another doll already.

This was great fun. When I was making her body and arms, someone asked me why on earth I was making a doll. Because I can, I said, and because I want to. Not every piece must be serious, we must listen to what we hear in the still of the night. Make me, put me down on paper, paint me, bead me, create me. I'm learning to accept that I don't always have a choice in the matter, I am only the conduit. That is part of the gift of creativity, I think. That sometimes what you think you want to make isn't really what you need to make.

So what do you think of the Self Portrait of a Recovering Artist?

Hand It Over Dot Com

2010-01-30T12:58:00.003+10:30

I've been thinking and I just thought it might be interesting to try to write it down. It has to do with why people blog, and pray and go to therapy. Or maybe it has to do with why I blog, and pray and well, I don't go to therapy much anymore, but art is my therapy. I am probably assuming some global need, instead of an individual's compulsion to write and subject the world to her own introspection. Sounds much more social, doesn't it. Social networking sites and blogs have really exploded in the past few years. Every artists, celeb, company, group, network, concept seems to have a blog. Even the catholic church is online, presenting a strange mix of preaching and religeous mores, Search-an-angel and online merchandise, actually it made me cringe when I found it. I've always understood that religeon is marketing of an idea, but to see it so blatantly displayed as a shopping portal made me feel very uncomfortable. You see what I missed was the Open Door, in the olden days, the church was refuge, sanctuary, come in, we are glad you are here, what are you looking for, searcher? What have you lost, what are you missing in your life and how can we help you. I didn't see that. I didn't see a permission to hand it over. To hand over what ails you, what troubles you, to hand over the load, to hand over your thoughts and get feedback that what you think is okay. I also didn't see any values on this portal except politicised church position and I believe that is a telling sign.

Technology progresses at a frightening rate, the quality of life is ever increasing, consumption is ever increasing and yet what you see is that human beings make use of that technology to exercise very basic needs. The emotional quality of life I believe has been impacted a lot, and sometimes facing eachother appears just too damn hard. We've resorted to expression of self, expression of opinion, expression of ideas, expression of sorrow on the WWW; creating a GlobalSearchEngine for kindred spirits. We have created a connected, growing, multiplying www.handitoverdotcom. Some of that functions as the digital version of the worry beads and personal diaries. Online confessionals have been in place for a while, on twitter and personal blogs and allow everyone to observe and participate in the rise and fall of the Britneys, Paris' and Tigers of this world. This almost makes it sound like I don't agree with the level of internet information sharing and social networks. That is not the case, I am a proponent of handing it over. In fact, in this time of the year, when looking back and looking forward is almost a natural state of mind, I have come to the conclusion that I need to improve on my handing over technique in 2010.

I would really like to have an online help website straight to the Universe, or God, or Buddha or the Divine or whatever you want to call it. Point to point interaction, without having to resort to using the many brokers on earth professing to have the ear of the One and the Only. A web form with a receipt function. Handitover.com. Hello God, it is me. It's been a while since we spoke last. Hey, did you ever do anything with those suggestions for improvement I made? Sorry? Get to the point? You're busy? Okay. I need to tell you some stuff, I need to hand it over to someone. It's in my head and it's gotta come out. Nah, I don't need you to fix it, what a typical male thing to say, just shut up and listen. Or Here is my wish for next year. Or Here is something that has been bothering me. Maybe Can you ask Uncle Morty where he put the key to the safe before he left? Or perhaps Am I doing the right thing? What is the meaning of this? Can you make it quiet inside my head. And potentially this I am so lonely, there is nobody to talk to. See now that would be something wouldn't it. Workflow in an agreed format. And an automated receipt for your service request to an email account of choice. Your request has been received, and has been placed in the qeue. You will receive a response as soon as possible.

And maybe this is why people blog, and write online in journals. We hand it over to eachother and the information super highway. The stupid, the interesting, the creative, the joyfull and the sad, the inspirational and the mediocre, the questioning and the response. What led me to this jumble of thoughts, and the subsequent project plan for a service request system to the Divine? I've had a strange week last week. One where I have tried to break old patterns, a week where a barrage of motherloads came at me - OPPs, Other People's Pressures, Other People's Pain, Other People's Problems. It is in my nature to want to take these things on board, to try and fix them, architect a solution, or suck it up and believe the problem is me. Not this week. I set some boundaries and handed over the rest to Spirit to fix. And it was hard, cause the old pattern would be to lie awake at night to break it down to the nth degree and ponder and hand over my peace of mind. What I did was write it all down in my journal, and kept on seeing the beautiful day that was. And it worked. And Spirit didn't want to sell me morals, or opinions or Bibles or tshirts with slogans, all that happened was that It listened and took part of the weight. There was a lightness in my step this past week, I experienced a lot of small abundance and pleasures, and reached a realisation that shared trouble is really halved trouble. Even if I share it only with another version of myself.

I still believe my online request idea is a good one, but until Spirit hires me as an IT consultant to make that happen, I will just stick with my written journal.

Silent all these years

2010-01-24T11:46:00.001+10:30

For a significant portion of my life I have had a tussle between what I thought I should be doing and what I really wanted to do. This tussle expressed itself in bouts of dissatisfaction with life, just beneath the surface, causing conflict between Daytime Bianca and Selftime Bianca. You see for years, decades even, I blocked out the creative person inside. I knew she was there, I knew it as a child, when I was writing articles for the school newsletter I created at 9, I knew it when I sculpted in clay, I knew it when some of my poems were published in a book when I was 12. But for some reason this artist child was silenced, I don't think it was ever articulated clearly or maybe life events functioned to gag the creative soul inside, but it was silenced for a long time. Or maybe not silent, dorment, surpressed, over shouted by responsibility and career and demands on the logic mind that left one exhausted. Existing on the shallow top layers, not able to see or pay attention. But the tussle was there, and the little artist's voice became louder in my mid 30's - what about me, have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten what it was like to create, the delight and joy in the process. Have you forgotten that sense of connection with the universe and the earth and some ancient force that has always driven human beings to great achievements. Have you forgotten your destiny, little girl? You have always known this drive, this need, this must do, this gift.

I had not forgotten.

Creating was what I reached out to when life was not quite unbearable but survival was the only action I was capable of. At first it was to stop the thoughts and repeating the same things over and over again, but then I recovered that sense of incredible wonder and excitement at the process and what came out of my heart when I was quiet long enough to tune in. Aahhhh. For several years, I indulged, hungry and trying to catch up on what I thought was lost time. I was prolific, I was driven, I produced one piece after the other, tried one medium after the other. But the conflict was still just beneath the surface, and I could not understand why. It wasn't until I started to examine my own assumptions and perceptions that I heard it, it came back to what I should be doing. I should be making work to sell, I should be producing, I should be perfect. Oh my gosh, there it was, underneath it all, this sense of perfectionism. Having to be perfect, the work had to be perfect. Lightbulb moment - this is where all my procrastination stems from, and the conflict. Because it has to be perfect, I just don't start it. Or if I start it, I don't finish it.

But that is not my job as an artist.

My job is to show up, my job is to step up to the plate and play, create and experiment. My job is to be the conduit and the channel, my job is to listen to the spirit, or the muse or whatever you want to call the force that whispers to us. My job is to live the creative process, to pay attention and to focus. And for a moment, it is all quiet inside, and them my little artist yells out - I told you so! I told you but you didn't listen. You made me silent all these years, and you only heard the other voices. We all hear the other voices - critical voices, telling us we are not good enough, our work is not good enough. We should be cleaning, we should be working, we should be doing the washing. But we are doing our job, when we focus, and pay attention, and work the process. When we show up to create.

When I show up, sometimes all I make are elements. Components, snippets, quantity, bits, bobs - elementary, my dear Watson. Like the ones below, they are just elements, but I work the process, and delight in the act of creating. But I show up and that is all that matters, it is good enough. That'll do, Pig (I loved that line from Babe). Last week, I enrolled in a creative writing course starting in February, I walked away from the work a year ago of writing the book I had in my head for a while, and I am going to put some crumbs in place to find my way through the forest. The course focusses on non fiction books and how to structure them. I think Spirit approves, I heard laughter and giggling in the background, I am sure of it. Or maybe Spirit arranged it, who knows.

How are you dealing with the influences that tell you that you should be doing other things but creating? It is not always easy is it? Are you hearing Spirit giggle and laugh? I try to reclaim an hour for myself every day, Selftime in Daytime.

I'm showing up.

Point of View

2010-01-16T08:31:00.000+10:30

What is real is a matter of how you look at it. As an artist, attention and mindfulness and seeing things that nobody else sees or finds interesting are important “skills” to have. One of my new year’s resolutions was to be still a lot more and see what happens. There is a wondrous sense of delight and joy in observing. The grey green of the plants near my house. The two faux magpies swooping the insects from the surface of the pool, before they notice I am watching them. The berries on the shrub, the lone tree on the cliff. What do you see? Do you see anything? How does that help you with your art? I’ve started to take some time out every day to be alone and to see, and I do that by getting up at 5.30 and going for a walk to the beach. I usually get followed by some birds, I call them my sentinels and imagine they are sent by the Spirit to keep me safe. If you notice a more spiritual tone in my posts lately, you would be right. I want more meaning in my life and it is not the big things that give you that, they are the small joys.

Every little thing on earth can be a sense of wonder and you can look at them through the eyes of a child. On my morning walks I hear the song of the birds, greeting eachother in the pine trees, I also hear the wind in the tree tops. Whispering. Galahs and small lorikeet communicate like they are spruiking their wares in a produce market in their gossipy, penetrating, screeching voices. If you are really still, they might even forget you are there and appear from their secret hidaways between the branches. You can see them backflip when they spot you. You can smell the sea air, flowers, and other fragrances carried on the gentle breeze. I stop sometimes to admire the bark on the trees, the different textures and the colours of lichen.

Happiness is a point of view. Inspiration is a point of view. What is real is a matter of how you look at it. And when you look at it. I find solitude to be an essential condition to my walks. But that does not mean you can’t connect, it is through seeing and observing that we connect with nature, our spirit and soul and our artistic abilities. What you see you can call upon when you create, your minds eye will recall all these images and impressions for you. Such as the crocheted nautilus shape below, which I made from a beautiful blend of silk/merino yarn in seashell colours, a Christmas present from my friend Anne Dundas. Isn't that shape beautiful? God, or Universe, or Spirit or whatever you want to call it is the greatest artist of us all.

So what do you see? Are you looking? You may find small pockets of sheer delight to brighten your day and improve your artwork. Happy watching.

A room of one's own

2010-01-05T22:42:00.004+10:30

All I want is a room with a view.

Virginia Woolf said that every woman needs a room of her own; a place of refuge and sanctuary. That breath of solace in a world gone quite insane, where the door can be shut to the racket and the walls are the colour of calm and tranquillity. I remember when my little sister Esther and I finally got separate rooms, and I could choose the wall paper which was the wall covering of choice in the 70’s. My choice was a picture wall of a forest that had to be pieced together from 9 large sheets. I recall feeling as if it was my own piece of Narnia, through the looking glass into a world that was completely my own. All I want is a room with a view – an ever changing view depending on the mood of the day. A view of San Marco in Venice, Paris in spring time, Barcelona on a fragrant summers’ day or my favourite view of all, the ocean.

I was reminded of that during a little New Year’s house boat holiday on the River Murray, which is a room with a beautiful view of a river vista. I have a new digital camera and was taking a lot of shots to test settings and the performance of my new Canon. The sky was blue, the river a muddy dull green, the cliffs many shades of ochre and salmon and the trees lush and green. In the morning, the river is at its most beautiful – when all is quiet and the day is fresh and still. So still that you can hear the woosh of the wings of the birds flying over the house boat. There is nothing more pleasurable than that first morning swim, to get to the other side of the river, touch the cliffs, dodge the cockatoo poo and swim back to the aft deck of the boat. Life does not get any better than that.

I did not take much beadwork with me, what I did take was a UFO, that needed final finishing. By only taking that piece, I was forced to complete it LOL, I recommend that technique whole heartedly. My new camera has two macro modes – one standard and a super macro function. Even with my limited photographic skills, I was able to take a relatively good shot of the finished piece. A Sea Urchin lariat. I played around with graduating colours in the rope, which is formed around a 4mm thick rubber buna cord core. I have used some variation in the colours of the urchins, but they are still in my favorite turqoises, bronzes and teal greens.

Happy New Year, although it is already 5 days into the year that is 2010. Who knows what surprises the Universe has in store for us this year, but I wish yours be filled with abundance, happiness and love. May the Muse whisper to us in the still of the night, just before the morning breaks and may we create magic together, our Muses and us.

The Tree of Life

2009-11-27T08:13:00.012+10:30

We're all tied to the tree of life, till all the dancing's done.

This line from the Wendy Matthews song Ten Miles of Timber rings very true to me. The first line of the song is about someone planting trees, whilst others sleep through yet another day. What does that really mean? To me it means waste not, carpe diem, pluck the day, seize the moment, embrace the now. Don't spend your days flatlining, and moaning about what you don't have, spend your days planting trees. Have you ever asked yourself why some people spend a lot of energy lamenting why life has treated them so badly, instead of spending that energy seeing the trees? Or planting them? Why are you carrying on about shrubbery and metaphors, Bianca? Good question! It seems like everywhere I look or listen or see there is someone carrying on about little things, life's minor hurdles, inconsistencies, trivialities. It started me thinking, what makes one person see only the negatives, whilst someone else blurts out well, I've not long to live, but look at that sunset. Isn't she marvellous.

I once read a research paper that determined that chemically negative thoughts have a much bigger impact than a positive one. This might be why years later you can still feel the hurt from something that happend a lifetime ago. If that is even remotely correct, isn't there a good case for positive thinking? And if the thought comes before the emotion which drives an action, isn't it possible that we can change our world by deliberate positive thought? I suspect we all know that on a very deep level, but we have become a society of victims. The paper is full of fighting words - the war on terror, the war on influenza, the war we wage on obesity, the war against cancer, the fight for workplace equality. We are attacked by koala's, bushfires, virusses, but also by happenstance. Everything seems to be an attack or a fight or there is some victim and the fingers look for a target to point. Just try to find the words in the paper, where they are used in a totally absurd context, you'll see what I mean. How on earth can we live amongst all the angst and fear and still contain some form of positive thought.

According to Marci Schmirnoff, the author of Happiness for No Reason, it is about choice. We know that there are people who always see the glass as half empty, I can't live like that. If you can find one positive thing every day, you gain so much. And if you believe you cannot find it in your life, maybe because one can get very tied up in believing in ones identity as a victim. You can't hate someone you wish well, you can't feel bad if you send out good thoughts, you can't be a victim if you have a choice. I've cut a lot of people out of my life who just wallowed in the victim role, and expect people around them to perpetuate that and get very angry when that is challenged. It is almost a contact sport to compare notes on how hard done one is. Enablers, competing for the prize for having the worst life. All the while having great kids, a house, partners and not walking the street hungry. And I know people who are really sick, don't crap on about it and get very little real compassion from those around them because they choose to respond in a certain way.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my own trivialities too, something happens at work that knocks the wind out of my sails and I have to work really hard not to let my sense of injustice take over. I try to do that by deliberately being grateful, although it is not always easy. The sun shining, relative peace, friends, my creative work, being relatively healthy. Crikey, how can we not be grateful for all we have here? But most of us are not, all we see is what we don't have. And we don't have a good sense of our own worth as people, not as owners of things, which makes it so easy to get caught up in the downward spiral.

We're all tied to the tree of life, and we have a choice. We can spend the day sleeping and wallowing in what we believe is missing from our lives. Or we can get out there planting trees. I know what I'd rather be doing.

So this is how I apply my philosophy to the creative endeavors. I have tried my hand at some gelatine printing on fabric my friend Steph sent me, a messy business. It did not work out as I wanted, the gelatine sold in the baking section is just not firm enough to be used as a printing plate. But the glass is half full right, and so we make lemonade from sourpuss lemons. The print on the right (with the messy background) is actually the cleaning cloth I used to wipe the top of the gelatine after printing. Came out better than the deliberate prints. These samples will appear in finished pieces at some stage.

Heart on my sleeve

2009-11-18T07:26:00.002+10:30

One of my weaknesses is that I wear my heart on my sleeve. By that I mean that I am usually very open about what I think, my opinions, myself, my creative work and many more things. At times that can be exasperating for the ones around me, as I am sometimes not very good at translating the raw imagery in my head to a palatable message. So I'll wear my heart on my sleeve today: I'm really struggling with myself at the moment. When I struggle, I go into my cave, hoping that some quiet contemplation will work out what is bothering me and hoping that some quiet contemplation will re-energise me. Hence the absence lately, I've been cave dwelling. I am not sure if it helped at all, I feel so physically and emotionally drained. Perhaps the renovations kicked me over the edge, it is not easy keeping everything ticking over whilst doing hard labour every day and weekend.

There is something else I am struggling with and that has to do with my latest creative endeavors - fibre. I have always liked fibre, rope, thread, cord, fabric, paper, cloth, leather, silk. But I never knew just what to do with it as I have never been very good with sewing and traditional quilting is just not my thing. I admire the geometry, yes, but it is way too measured for me, too controlled. Let me start at the beginning: several weeks ago I happenstanced upon a magazine called Quilting Arts, actually I was at a hairdressers appointment and I treat myself to a different magazine to surrender to 3.5 hours of foiling, cutting and scalp massaging (lots of hair you see). In that issue was an article by Jill Amanda Kennedy, about fabric cuffs from scraps embellished with beads and you know when your creative brain goes Whammo - well it did.

Truth be told I was playing with felting a bit, not to overtake my love of beads, but to complement it and be able to create fabrics for bead work. But suddenly this whole other direction opened up - textile and fibre. So what on earth do I do with that now, see that is what I am struggling with. Where do I go, why can't I just focus on the one medium, why do I always have to experiment and try and travel down yet another road of creative expression? I don't get it, I just can't seem to be able to ringfence myself to the one thing. And it frustrates me to smithereens as it means that I have to. I can't let it go, that is not how it works with me. I have to try things. And of course that meant buying a sewing machine, and learning to work it. Sewer without a clue. That is yet another thing that must exasperate the ones around me, that I am always and forever learning and trying new things. Other materials appear, piles of stuff, ribbons, mesh, silks, cottons, paper. Some I already had, some I get from friends, or swap, some I well, rip of clothes that don't fit me no more. Where am I going to take this, nobody knows.

I had a discussion with a well known bead artist last year about being a tryer outerer of everything and a master of none, at the time that made me sit up a bit. I don't master much, I don't tend to spend all my creative time on one medium. I need additional input and inspiration as it is all connected for me. I try to master technique but even that is not always possible when ones mind is going in all directions but I always come full circle and use what I already know with the "new found materials". At the time I thought she was right, but now I am not so sure, as that does not work for me and it if don't work for you, how can it be right? It also means other duties suffer, such as keeping a house maintained, or clean or even remotely unmessy and my body exercised and lean and the torch going and the kiln fired up. Because I am thinking about creating all the time and my head is full. Full I tell you, completely and utterly stuffed to the brim with ideas. No room for anything else. Maybe that is another reason I feel so darn tired and frazzled.

I regularly tell people to just play, to just do it, don't overthink why, get rid of your internal censor and critic and just do it. I don't respond to boundaries very well, what I respond to is the promise, the possibility and vision. But it sometimes means I loose myself in different paths, and I get lost without bread crumbs. I take deep joy in the creative process. So where is all this diatribe leading?

I played. Big time. I joined the Holey Moley club, led by Dale Rollerson from the Thread Studio. This is an online workshop/group spending 12 months exploring different fibre techniques. Every two months Dale uploads new techniques and fibre fun is explored and practiced. I joined the group somewhat late so I am catching up a bit, I am combining themes of workshops - Holes, Lines and Patterns. My first reasonable attempts are below, I started to make little bags with my fabric samples. I like the concept of bags, you can put something in it, whether the content be thoughts, bagage, messages or food. Nom.

I'd love to hear how other artists deal with the creative jumbles in their head, do you surrender or fight it? Embrace or reject?

The love of books

2009-09-10T23:11:00.007+09:30

I have a passion for books, I cannot walk past a bookstore or a stall or go for a day without checking what Amazon can offer me. The other day I visited Borders, to gawk, and I felt incredibly happy. There are people who do not understand my love for books and my insatiable need to own them. Books are magic. Pieces of paper bound together, with no intrinsic value. But the words upon those pages are what makes them powerful beyond anything. I have always loved reading, as a child I remember purchasing Enith Blighton books with my Dutch Guilders 1.10 in pocket money, which is about 70 cents in AUD, every Saturday morning I would buy one of the series. When I was in Borders I looked around me. What attracts me so much. It is the seeking. Books hold truths, kernels of wisdom that might explain in one sentence what has been eluding me for years. Solutions to problems, the sudden realisation of the meaning of an emotion, a feeling, articulation of a sentiment. I seek all that in books.

Some writers have the ability to touch you with their words, it has occurred to me that there are lines that will forever be etched in my soul. Call me Ahab. I can see it in other book buyers too, touching the jackets, leaving through a novel, caressing the spine. What can this one teach me, does it contain what I am looking for? Will it have that pearl of wisdom, the escape, the solution, the hidden treasure. Can it fill my life, enhance what is missing or highlight what is already there. Books are time capsules, recording the writers thoughts and creative energy from the time the first word was written on the paper.

I received a book today in the mail, Beaded Opulence by Marcia DeCoster and that book is filled with other magic. I have learnt to appreciate RAW late in life, it took me a while before I could appreciate the stitch; to learn to like its ability to be fabric, strong and soft at the same time. This book shows you all of that and more. I really love the conversational tone in the book, sometimes bead artists who write feel the need to write as the third person, to me it almost depersonalises that very intimate dialogue between writer and reader. Marcia does not do that, she actually gifts you with the things she has learned and does that in a logical and personalbe way. And yet, passion shines through on every page. My brain has been firing on all cylinders since I opened the book. There are a few strenghts I would like to highlight: there are sections that discuss different attributes of RAW: Fabric, Layering, Cords, Armatures and that gives you the opportunity to mix techniques and truly understand the options in front of you.

Then there is the creativity, the lightbulb moments. Oh gosh, is that what you can do, is that how you can make that beaded fabric curve. Is that how you get a smooth tube, is that how you get that organic look. And those lightbulb moments are gold, they take you beyond what you see in front of you and they slot in what you already know. I have purchased and read a lot of books lately, here are a few on the shelf:

Jenny Rolfe - Beautiful Embroidered Bags

Lizzy Houghton - Creative Felting

Sarah Keay - Jewellery with textile techniques

Diane Fitzgerald - Shaped Beadwork

Marcia DeCoster - Beaded Opulence

Rachel Nelson Smith - Seed Bead Fusion

All these books have an extra quality, that bit of spark and passion that sets my world on fire. Even if I never make a project from the books, they make their way in my work.

Books are magic.

Now if only I could sew, but that is not a skill I posess.

Sea Nomads

2009-07-21T19:35:00.012+09:30

I think it was the smell, that heady blend of salt, fish, tropical warm air and franginpanni flowers. Yes, the smell of ocean, the Coral Sea gently nibbling on 4 Mile Beach in Port Douglas last week. See that is where I have been for the past few weeks, PNG and Far North Queensland or FNQ. And I think it was the smell of ocean that made me feel as if I had finally come home. I loved Port Douglas, it is a wonderful place. Thanks to, or maybe due to is a better term, the financial crisis, it was not busy even though it is typically busy in winter. Waking up early to walk on the beach and see the sun sparkle on the water and sense the peacefullness really made my shoulders un-tense.

We have been sea nomads for a few weeks, travelling from Port Moresby to Madang in PNG, to Cairns to Port Douglas. All to submerge ourselves in tranquility of the oceans and get away from daily live. My partner and I are avid scuba divers, he learned to dive as a teenager in the 70's and conned me into being his dive buddy in 1997. I love scuba diving, it did not take much coaxing into a PADI continued education journey which lead me to Dive Master level. A nice word to indicate a level of experience and allows you to work as a guide, or an assistant to the instructor. Which is what I did for my partner a few times, he went through PADI boot camp. We dive with a group of friends, a dive trip at least once a year. Last year, for those who remember, it was Vanuatu. This year the warm waters around Madang.

The things you see as a sea nomad are astounding. Relying on a metal tube to provide you with air in a hostile environment is adventure enough, but to encounter fish, sharks, rays, turtles, snakes, moray eels, and all kinds of sluggy colourful creatures is magic. The routine was like this: wake up early, head over to the jetty and being met with the dive masters, all native Madang residents. I loved to see a female dive master, and Melissa did a great job. We'd find a dive site, either a wall (where the shallow bottom drops down suddenly sometimes 100's of meters, or a reef or a passage through the reef to the ocean. The tide drives where you go, visibility is a condition you want to be good for fun but also safety. After the dive, typically 50 minutes to an hour, we'd head over to an island, anchor the boat and have lunch on the beach. The dive masters would get some coconas out of the trees, or other fruits and we'd share what we had bought at the market too. Fruits are incredible, one day I bought this paw paw that fed us for 3 days for 2 kina (around 60 cents). Then we'd snorkel a bit, you need to off gass the nitrogen before you get back into the water on scuba. Then another dive site and the same routine. Some days we'd do just two, some days 3 dives. You could dive in a lycra catsuit, which I did most days, but I did wear a 3 mm wetsuit over that during the last few dives as your core temp does go down, even if the water is 30 degrees al year round.

Colours under water are weird - red disappears in the first few meters so sometimes corals can look washed out. But when you shine your torch over a piece, the pinks, corals, salmons and reds appear. I saw corals I had never seen, cabbage like, lime green with banana yellow edges. Deep blue coral, really deep blue. Pink and purple and green corals. One dive we dropped onto a wall and suddenly 4 huge shadows loomed in the distance: absurd looking fish with humps on their heads and a mono jaw like Jaws in James Bond movies had. Humphead Parrot Fish. Now we are talking about a 2 meter fish here, with a jaw that can chomp your arm off but dumb as anything and very docile. The feeling you have watching a creature like that in its own habitat is like nothing else in this world.

I think we did around 17 dives in Madang, after a few days you loose count. LOL. Then we flew back to Australia and spent 10 days in FNQ. We dived the great barrier reef there and if you have never done that, I would recommend it. Staghorn coral as far as you can see, schools of barracuda, the most beautiful giant clams, the colours on these creatures is just amazing. Fish every colour of the rainbow, turtles, sharks, moray eels and lionfish. It is all there and you can see all that beauty snorkelling. It was a lot different than Madang, more hard corals and much more fish life to see.

So I leave/tease you with a few images, hover the mouse over the images to see what they are. I brought back some bits and bobs from PNG and FNQ that will appear in beadwork over the next few months.

Man in the Mirror

2009-06-28T17:13:00.003+09:30

The Man in the Mirror has forever taken off his white glove. Like so many people my age, the music of Michael Jackson played a big part in my formative years. I stated to someone the other day that I was never quite into him, but that is not the real story. In the 80's he revolutionised music, I can't hear a song from his legacy collection and not think back in vivid images. Billy Jean, She's out of my life, Thriller, Bad and of course Man in the Mirror. Sunday night countdown, MTV, Jackson dominated a lot of the musical inspirations and are mnemonics to youth experiences.

Musically he was a genius, his use of rock, disco, but also tribal sounds, gospel and African traditional songs are sheer ingenuity. He was also an innovator in music, the simple bass riff that kicks off Billy Jean, the whining guitar in Dirty Diana, the African chant in Black or White, the gospel harmonies in Man in the Mirror - sheer and utter genius. I saw Michael Jackson perform in 1996 in Adelaide, I seem to recal Human Nature was the supporting act. At the time, my partner and I were travelling up and down from Melbourne to South Oz for a major IT transition and we decided to go. I will never forget the golden suit he wore but also the performance ability that man had. A presence he did not have when he was not performing.

I can't help but think he didn't stand a chance.

During the past 10 years his behaviour and the stories got weirder and controversy seemed to follow him around. It was pretty clear from some of the media stories that the childhood of the Jackson children was not happy and fraught with abuse. I guess we also know about the child abuse charges, and we assume that those stories were true. I don't know about that, as the public, we only hear and see what is controversial and if it does not exist, it is probably made up. The fact that he paid the boy off does not indicate guilt, a lot of people don't get that, the law is not justice and justice is probably not what people were after. I suspect that he was surrounded by people who saw him as a meal ticket and that it was not always easy to be in that spotlight.I also believe that the fighting over the money will start soon, and probably played out with his children. What we saw was a boy child who did not want to grow up, heck, grown ups do horrible things so who wants to be that way, Right? I get that. I also have no doubt that there was a really good and innocent heart somewhere in there, you only have to listen to his music and the words to get the picture. Art does not lie, it has no reason to. And so I have more faith in that than what the media have made him out to be.

One of my favorite Jackson songs is Man in the Mirror. I think he has made a difference by being on this earth. That might sound odd considering the shallow world of music and showponies, but think about it. Generations of people who feel something when his songs are played, the global outpouring of grief is evidence of that. There were Jackson tribute shows on the radio all weekend and sheesh, every one of them had a different memory. It is a real shame that the pressure of life in the limelight killed the music.

I hope he is in a place where he is no longer alone. This legacy of music will go on forever, in the years to come, we will all forget about the controversy. The music and the brilliance of this musicial artist will live on in the inspiration he has given other musicians and his fans.

Renovators Delight

2009-06-02T07:33:00.003+09:30

Oh I ache, in places I never thought I would have muscles. My hands, shoulders, arms, legs, feet they all ache. No I don't have schwine flu, I am renovating a house. A few weeks ago my partner and I walked into a 45 year old house in a sea side suburb one burb south from where we currently live. She was tired, had not had a lot of TLC for a while, had been empty for 12 months (family circumstances) but she had potential. 3 bedrooms, a nice open area living morphing into a kitchen but the best part is the backyard, it is huge. Maple, orange, jasmin and lemon tree live there and it smells divine. So we made a low ball offer and got it. Typically we wouldn't buy a house with so much work, but we liked this one a lot.

We are both pretty handy people, and we have a lot of tools at home so we decided to reno her ourselves. How hard can it be, structurally the house is sound. Okay. This is how hard it is - 4 decades of wall paper (I mean how much retro metallic and paisley can you stand, that house used to be orange for crying out loud), 3 layers of floor covering and you gotta look out for asbestos in a house of that age, bad DIY jobs on the paint, beige upon pink upon green upon orange. Luckly the linoleum under all the carpet was old but not asbestos backed. A few tiles in a laundry drain are but I am going to cover that with cement so that will be fine. Then she started to show her colours, high ceilings, nice windows (they were covered up), floor to ceiling windows in the master bedroom, boarded up. When the light started to flood in, that was great.

I love it though. I love the fact I can do this stuff, we are saving ourselves so much money doing the work ourselves. A good trady is worth their weight in diamonds and beads but doing it yourself is fantastic. I love the sense of achievement when I managed to repair a really badly damaged wall smooth as silk, and when we fixed up some of the woodrot in the windows. Years of craft work come in handy, it is like working with clay, smoothing it out with wet fingers, shaping, then sanding. Voila.

Next weekend is a long weekend in SA and we are painting. Every room will have a feature wall, in related muted colours. Soft olive green, donkey grey, pumpkin yellow, limousine blue, with a soft ivory base wall and a beige trim. I can just picture the house loving it, houses have a feel don't they, a vibe. This one didn't have a very happy vibe, but it is changing so much. We won't live there, we're building on a portfolio of investment properties, to be able to retire in a few years. My partner, god bless his cotton socks, said to me yesterday that we have to try to get a migrant family in the house. He remembers his roots, we both do.

So hence the radio silence. And the lack of beading. I can understand now why those chicks on reno shows look so lean and muscular, this is hard work. I'll post some before and after shots next weekend.

Scent of my grandmother

2009-05-06T19:51:00.013+09:30

The other day I walked behind an older lady during my lunch break. I work on the top of the the carpark of a major department store, and so you ride the elevator up and down with shoppers. It was an older couple, nicely dressed, no doubt they were goign to have a nice lunch together or maybe even to one of the lunch time classical music concerts in one of the University halls. And something funny happened, the lovely perfume the lady was wearing just took me back decades, to my grandmothers house. My oma, dutch for grandmother, only had two scents: 4711 for during the week, or to cool her head. And a beautiful powdery perfume, a dusky rose gardenia powder scent that made me giddy as a little girl. It was probably a Yardley or maybe a Margaret Astor, which was very popular in Europe in the 60's and 70's. My head spun, I knew that lovely smell, it felt like home, familiar territory. It is amazing what smell can do to trigger memories. My oma and opa lived on the second floor of a typical working class house in Amsterdam. My oma Maria was not very mobile, she had diabetes I think. Opa Joseph (yes I swear this is true, Joseph and Maria) did all the cooking, I remember staying at their house with my brother and sister and he would make mocha torte, curls of mocha cream from one of those cake decorating bags.

Oma cross stitched and knitted and she made many attempts to teach me handicrafts. Oma had this big tin of stuff that was just awesome to fossik through. It was a tan colour with decal roses on it and it was filled with Aria cloth, silk and cotton embroidery threads, woolens, buttons, zippers, needles and all kinds of secrets and treasures. I knew exactly where that tin was, under the shelf with the Lemon jenever (a dutch gin), which oma was not allowed to have anymore, but once a day she would pour one. A tiny little glass with the lemon jenever and a small teaspoon of sugar. She was all lavender and old lace, my oma. She had her only son when she was older and I always thought that we only had a relationship that started late in life. But then I remember finding photos of my oma and me, and I was 4 or so months old. I think we lived with her for a while. I sometimes get images of them, cigar smoke and the smell of Yardley Old Lace will put me right back in time.

Lavender and Lace. That is very close to the theme I used for my entry into the Toho Emerging Artist competition sponsored by one of my favorite suppliers Cranberry. I had to keep schtum but I actually won the Australian league of the competition and that meant my piece went to the US for the next leg. Yesterday I heard that my piece had come 5th in that league. What a great honor, I am so pleased and chuffed. I didn't have any expections at all and therefore everything was a bonus. The piece needed to use 80% of Toho beads, and I think I succeeded in that condition. The necklace is a study in contrast, matt lavender and shiny platinum matched up with violet and amethyst. The necklace is a combination of medallions in RAW, it has a very medieval feel to it, it has drama and looks rather royal. Hence the name Drama Queen. With thanks to Jo for pushing me a little bit, sometimes that little shove creates something very satisfying.

Sunday morning walk through the vineyards

2009-05-02T09:55:00.021+09:30

I love Autumn, or Fall as our friends up North call it. I love the colours on the trees, I love the light, the mild days with that little bit of crisp in the mornings. We try to go walking in the vineyards close to my house every weekend, and this time of the year is glorious. The colours of the vines, the leaves on the trees, all the pods and seeds on the ground. I love observing the willie wagtails and the other birds fussing over the olives in the wild trees. After all the geometric raw angle weave of the past month or so, my heart set on an organic piece with an autumn pallette of olives, browns, rust, blush and wine red and a smidge of dark petrol blue. I used Photoshop to come up with the pallette based on the images below.

The idea was to be as organic as I could without losing some of the colours in the blend. The effect is very subtle, you see the autumn pallette as one "wall of colour" but then you spot the details. I used several colours of czech stone effect fire polished 3 mm beads, they add tiny flecks of colour all through the piece. The neckpiece is a heavily embellished spiral rope, which is a particularly labour intensive process as you go through the core beads several times. Cassandra Graham and Laura McCabe use this technique to produce very full and bushy ropes. I created small abstract grape bunches in different colours to connect the focal to the straps. The cabochon is cut by Harry Young, a well respected cab cutter in the lapidary club I am a member of. It has specks of salmon and soft orange and suits the neckpiece to a T.

The bunches of grapes are created by using drops in matt, AB and iris colours. I tend to use different finishes to reflect the way surfaces absorb or bounce back light. The matt finish of the olive green and kaki beads are a good contrast with the amber AB, and depicts the colours of ripe grapes and leaves that are turning a deep amber red. The close up shows how they are constructed, it is a very simple variation of peyote stitch, but one that is very effective.

And a closeup of the focal section, which shows the fringe work on the pendant. These are branch fringes, graduated from 4 to 11 stem beads.

We are very lucky to live so close to the best South Australia has to offer, indeed, I am somewhat biased. But where else can you live near the sea, the hills, the vineyards, the outback and still make use of some of the benefits civilisation has to offer. Withouth having to be a millionaire. We should be so careful with what we have in Australia, and not destroy it for "progress sake". I would probably not recommend this technique for the impatient, there are 3 passes through the spiral rope's core beads, the last pass I used the random stab method as I kept breaking needles and was afraid that the core beads would not be able to take another pass through. The alternative is to use larger sizes, such as an 8. After all this organic extreme beading, I am going to need to give my fingers a rest. The cool weather comes with recurring bouts of arthritis so I will treat my little paws with care and give them some time off.

Thanks should go to Kay, who rescued me with a few gram of the amber AB drops, I did not calculate the amount I needed with any modicum of accuracy so I ran out.

Getting down and dirty

2009-04-26T08:35:00.010+09:30

The Anzac day weekend is nearing a close for me and I want to share with you what I have been doing this weekend. I have been getting dirty, yaye, downright pig-in-muck messy. I did a job I try to put off as it is such a hassle and that is recycling dried pottery clay. There are always dried out bits lying around, pieces that failed, greenware that cracked, or in my case, leaving the lid off the clay bucket and not discovering that until 4 weeks into a heat wave. I guess you could throw the dried out clay away but there is enough waste in the world already. The process is quite simple: saturate clay in water such that it breaks up, then spread the slurry over an absorbing surface and let it dry until it regains plasticity. Then you need to kneed the clay, typically this is where a pugmill would come in handy. I was covered in the stuff, cause you stir the sludge with your hands and I don't wear gloves when I do this job. Maybe I should.

I haven't been working with clay much in the past 6 months, but I want to try some new glazes and maybe do a bit of raku firing now that the hot weather is gone and the fire bans are lifted somewhat. I love clay, I love the fact that it is mud, yes, clarified, refined, milled but mud nontheless. I bake my own bread, it is a rare occassion to see me purchase bread in the shops. I love kneading the dough, seeing the rising, that delicious baking bread smell. Maybe that is why I love clays so much. I've thought about getting a ceramics degree but the large is not what I want to make, it is the small. My workshop is simple and confined, in everything I do creatively, I try to keep my tools and workspace as simple as possible. Reason for that is the ease of packing it up should our intent of living on a yacht come to fruition earlier than planned.

Raku firing is an interesting technique, traditionally conducted with large fire pits or gas kilns. I've tried raku firing with my electric kiln and metal tins filled with all kinds of stuff such as sawdust, newspaper, seawead, hay. The intent is to starve the glaze of oxygen, this is called reduction firing, and metallic effects appear on the glaze.

.
Such as this piece, a raku fired swirl, with copper greens and a metallic sheen. What I do is bisque fire the greenware, then glaze it with a specific raku glaze, which needs to be fired again and ramped up to about 900 degrees Celcius. I then open the kiln and take out the pieces with tongs, and drop them in tins containing said materials and cover them up to deprive oxygen. Sometimes this goes well and sometimes this goes horribly wrong, and in the latter, you end up with black and cracked shards. It is almost like lampworking, when you use a propane rich flame to draw the metals to the surface of the beads.

The sample below is a brickstitched experiment with raku fired matt copper oxide glaze. The clay body is white porcelain so you can see how dark and metallic the copper glaze turns out. Unfortunately, raku firing creates a bit of a challenge due to the rough texture of some of the glazes. I've used Nymo thread in this sample and it is rubbed to fairy floss against the raku snails in some spots.

Ah autumn, my favorite time of the year. It has been raining for 4 days and the wind has been howling like a banshee. So to stay in and do chores was the best and most productive use of time. I also made a loaf of bread and baked a few pizza's, of course with handmade dough. I should be as big as a house, but if you make things yourself, you control what goes in it and how fresh it is.

I'm not working full time for the foreseeable future, combination of budgets and I guess my desire to focus on what is really important. I am a consultant and that means I can be out of work for a period of time but that is not a bad thing in the scheme of things. Not having to work means more time to focus on creativity and other purposeful activities. Hence the preparotory work of reclaiming clay, you can't be delaying the muse when she comes by not having your materials ready to go.

The Susan Boyle Effect

2009-04-19T08:34:00.004+09:30

I am sure that almost everyone will have seen or heard about Susan Boyle, a 47 year old lady from a little village in the UK, who went on to audition for Brittain's Got Talent. If you have seen the youtube vids, you will have seen how she was patronised both by the jury, and the audience. People laughed when she came on, this frumpy, slightly portly middle aged lady, in a bad perm and probably her best frock. And then she sang I had a Dream from Les Miserables and all that changed in 3 minutes, as it was very beautiful. All the cynicism and ridiculing changed into something very emotional, members of the jury shocked, audience in tears. Why is that? Her voice? Yes partly, altough lovely and capable of singing many genre's, will probably need training. Her appearance?

I believe it is because this lady reminds us of something and that is the dream in all of us. A woman in an unassuming package, like many ladies we see in the supermarket, our churches, our community groups, stands up and bowls over an audience. I could see her as a girl, when she had these dreams in the privacy of her bedroom, posters of Elaine Page and other musical stars on the walls. But then life steps in, and other people's assumptions of what we should be especially when we do not register on the scale of attractiveness. We see something of ourselves in her, and our presumptions are challenged at the same time. Often we presume that only beautiful people are capable of beautiful things, and dowdy, frumpy people are not. We presume that when a middle aged lady steps up on stage to follow her dream, she can be patronised and riduculed and she is a bit silly.

And then we see the absolute magic in this woman. And she becomes the champion for all the millions of average people with dreams. The skinny bald accountant who wants to be a ballroom dancer, the little girl with cerebral palsy who wants to be an Olympic field and track athlete, the awkward little ugly duckling who wants to be a writer and an artist. The people who get no respect because of how they look, are riduculed for perceptions that are not of their making. And that is what touched me so much when watching Susan sing her song, that she found a way to take that punt and get out there. So when we next see someone on the street, we smile at them and say hello. We are not what we look like on the outside, we are not the assumptions and perceptions of other people. Inside all of us there is a sparkly star to come out.

Go Susan, Go. For all of us, but mostly for yourself.

Karma and the Angels

2009-04-14T18:24:00.002+09:30

Okay, so the full moon made me empty out my linen closet and air some nasty stuff I had lying around for a bit in my last post. I toyed with the idea of pulling it off the air, but that would go against the principle of blogging so it stays. Note to self: do not post blogs if you are a) annoyed b) peed off or c) slightly enraged. I just came back from a visit to the family for Easter, and am sufficiently bolstered by good chocolate. My Lindt golden Bunny has been absorbed, a delivery straight to the derrierre I suspect. My MIL is a firm believer in Angels, not only of the Catholic kind, but the free flapping creatures miracle stories are made of. The guides, whether feather winged or not, we all have - visible in the peripheral sight if we only stop to look. Their whispers guide us, gently coaching us, encouraging to take a certain path. We can only hear their gentle voices when we cease talking to listen, and stop being afraid of what might happen. Mine was whispering softly, B, negative thought is followed by negative events, postive and loving thoughts are followed by positive events. Fear not, fear begets fear and the circle keeps going. Break the circle. Mum has a set of Angel Healing cards by Doreen Virtue so when I was home alone and a tiny bit bored from watching Foxtel (Yeah I know, very enlightened emotions at play here) I decided on a whim to select 3 cards, asking the question What 3 things do I need to focus on in the next 12 months.

The funny thing is, when I started handling the pack of cards, my fingers started to tingle, and a card just jumped out, then one more and the last one too. I knew exactly which ones to select, it did not feel scary, just comfortable. Yet, somewhat weirded out, I turned the cards in this order:

1. Abundance
2. Spiritual Awakening
3. New Love

All these cards made sense to me. Abundance is what I already have, abundant creativity, abundant supplies of happiness, abundant friends and the card promised more. Sometimes I am a bit scared it will all go bust, but I expect the best to happen and it does. Spiritual awakening, that rang a bell too, it has been a recurring theme in the past 12 months and I know I am on the cusp of a change. New love. Now that is interesting, as it is not in the literal sense of the card, but a new stage in a relationship. That too connected with me.

I hear so many people who grapple with change, and there is much change in the world. Part of that is some realisation on a deep level that this is an age of transformation, enormous forces of transition are at play in our day to day lives. We fight so hard to control our lives, and manage just about everything. What we need to focus on is resilience, flexibility, and realisation of the role of serendipidous chaos in our world. What we sow, we reap. If we sow goodness, we reap goodness, if we sow evil, that is what will bear fruit. I believe this to be the concept of Karma - cause and effect.

I was blessed with a Karma award by Belinda Saville from Bead Fetish, and it is a great honor to be bestowed this award, as it is described as follows:

These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind of bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

The folllowing images are from a project that I had envisaged for the book I am writing and it is therefore a bit of a teaser, or a gift or a seed to be planted to give readers some ideas. Since it is autumn in the southern hemisphere, I chose a leaf to be electroplated with copper and patinad with a liver of sulfur solution. The result was beautiful, which is more luck then skill as my electroplating skills are virginal. The necklace is a lesson in simplicity: the simple banana stitch evokes images of twirling and falling leaves. The bail is stitched very tightly to the leaf by drilling holes through and there is another banana stitched component on the other side, tightly sandwiching the leaf. My partner believes this is one of my best designs to date, the combination of the peyote stitched banana shaped components and the herringbone connecting elements make the neckstrap look like it twirls, falling leaves in the autumn breezes. It is a great effect. I hope I have captured the colour of the coppers and the sage green seed beads sufficiently, I am still on a steep learning curve in regards to photography for the book.

I hope this makes up for my whinge and tantrum, I am only human and usually not that negative. With thanks to Dani from the Whimsical Bead for the copper clasp, I did a swap with D for a polymer clay book several months ago and I suspect I got the best end of the deal. Thanks Dani.

The loss of Personal Responsibility

2009-04-05T19:30:00.008+09:30

I find it difficult to understand the epidemic that has swept the globe in the past few decades, a dangerous condition affecting mind and spirit I call VED. VED stands for Victim and Entitlement Disorder and it affects the young, the old, corporations, governments, in fact, whole generations are affected with this paralysing disorder. Sufferers experience terrible symptoms - Woe Is Me Pain, It Is Not My Fault and I Cannot Be Expected To Take Responsibility for Self Fever and Government Handout Syndrome. It ususally starts in childhood, VED is sometimes passed on from generation to generation, whole areas in some cities are affected and feel entitled to government handouts. Corporations are found to suffer from it frequently, usually in bad economic times or when bad management practices finally see the light of day. Then it strikes with a ferocity that is unprecedented, and at times it results in emotional blackmail - If I don't get a handout, millions will be out of a job.

Some VED sufferers have sparked industries to be established, such as Centrelink and work for the dole, and there is also a special language developed by sufferers. Many talk about Ecomomic Stimulus Package, government subsidies, tax bonuses. It is not rare to see spruikers speaking for sufferers on television - talking about the lack of opportunities, being raised in the wrong suburb, societal obligations to help those less fortunate. All the effort to try to help those poor retched souls who are so paralysed by VED that they cannot make choices to lift themselves up. Some VED sufferers with the most severe cases of VED even do things like blame others for getting fat from eating too much junkfood, that they are so poor whilst spending their handouts on drugs and alcohol and smokes, or pretend to be hurt to collect money from the Government. Some continue to do things to themselves they know deep in their hearts are bad and will land them in hospital, because it is "their right" to do so and someone else can pay their keep when their habit causes so much damage that they are disabled. Some VED sufferers blame dud finance companies for taking their money whilst a horse with blinkers on could have seen a lemon, or Nigerian scam artists, or spyware for stealing their password to their internet banking. Anyone but their own greed and stupidity.

I have an admission to make. I too, once suffered from VED. Granted, I was young and it was hard to think that I had any other road to follow. I remember once feeling angry, victimised and terribly insulted when a friend told me that I had a choice. What, I yelled, indignant, choice? I had a terrible start in life, I did not go to Uni, I am working in McDonalds. What is this choice malarky! There is no choice, woe is me, I need someone else to lift me out of all this suffering. And this is the insiduous nature of VED, when sufferers are pointed ot their personal responsibility, they get angry, they shout, they call people names like rich, wanker, or whatever comes up in their minds. They cannot see anymore, they get tunnel vision and turn to said industries to help them keep their illusions alive. And they keep themselves where they are. Thank the bead goddess the seed was planted, I had a choice, I was not stuck in my situation, I could educate myself to improve. Most VED sufferers live in western countries, where personal responsibility has been replaced by a form of slavery, surrendering to victim mentality. When powerful VED sufferers form corporations, they tend to make very bad choices, spruik dishonesty and faux values, and things go boom in the night. But the only reason they have been able to let that happen, is because society let it happen. VED has become a way of life.

What a funny story, no? I bet this got some chuckles from some readers. But this is a scourge of many western nations, where personal responsibility has been replaced with something else over many decades. Did you realise how many migrants in Australia have reached a level of success many born Australians can only dream about? Do you know why that is? Think about it, could it be because they worked themselves out of economic hardship, because they saved, used their money wisely? Could it be because they do not mind picking up a shitty job? Once upon a time I was a very socialist person, until I started seeing things differently. I was working in a Hospital in South Australia, when the Howard Government started to throw baby bonuses around, that cured me once and for all.

I am very much in favor of being our brothers keeper, which is why I support several organisations both in Australia and overseas. Directly, not through organised charity skimming from donations. But I was also comforted with President Obama's focus on personal responsibility in some of his speeches. Not born with plentiful opportunity, the Obama's, but with intelligence and a desire to educate themselves. Sometimes you don't give people fish, you teach them to fish. Kids need financial education, learn about responsibility for self first, reliance on government last. Several years ago I was blessed to visit a Royal Society for the Blind workshop. There I saw people who had lost their precious sight, find meaning and purpose in working and contributing and supporting themselves. Isn't it shameful to see able bodied young men and women refuse jobs as it does not pay much more than what they get in handouts. That needs to stop.

Someone with an income, who can spare 60 bucks a week can own an investment property. What is that, 2 packs of smokes less or 2 bottles of Jim Beam a week. The FHOG is so dangerous, as no saving and budgeting habits are created. What would have been better was a savings scheme, matching 2 dollars to every dollar saved and providing free financial advice and education. Now that would mean that the recipient would learn about sound financial planning. It would also have meant that the pricing of housing was kept in check as there was no instant gratification for agents to gobble up the FHOG. As there is today, so it is still not affordable for lower income earners in the long term. Sigh.

That would generate personal responsibility and a true change in attitudes and mindset. Values that appear to be lost forever. A lot of people seem to be a bit sick of the gimme gimme attitude, it also appears to be this elephant in the room. Living on credit is the way of the world it appears and in view of the global meltdown, which is dubbed the credit crunch, it may be time to start re-evaluating accepted trends. I am sick and tired of hearing about the stimulus package, sick of it. Had to sit through family visits where calculations were made how much, when, how many children, what else. WTF is that all about? I was particularly disgusted with the pity you get when you have no kids, oh then you get nothing cause you earn too much. Get nothing? It seems to me that some of the cash counters need to spend some time in places where there is just that: nothing.

I am sick of it. If I see another emergency crisis recession survival show with Kochie, I am going to projectile vomit violently. Life is what you make it, you shape it, there are always choices. Grumble, rant, rave.

Sugar

2009-03-28T11:11:00.007+10:30

I am a member of a Dutch beading forum, sometimes it is just necessary for me to write in my first language, although it is not easy. I have been in Australia quite some time and I find I can express myself in English better than Dutch. But I love being part of that group, I guess no matter where you are from and where you end up, you have a link to where you spent your formative years that cannot be broken by distance or time. There was a challenge on that forum, to make a cuff based on the theme of Spring. There were many participants, with absolutely fantastic pieces and surprise surprise the jury consisted of Sherry Serafini and Heidi Kummli. What a great honor, and the theme was inspiring too. Of course the seasons are all arse about, we hit autumn here, and the northern hemisphere is traipsing into spring.

At first I was a bit at a loss what to do, I am not someone who finds it easy to make sweet flowers, or leaves and those are the images I associate with spring. My love for music came to the rescue, I downloaded Dan Wilson's album Free Life to my trusted iPod. One of the songs on the album is called Sugar, it is a duet with Cheryl Crowe and I really love it. This is one of my favorite albums of all time, although John Waite's When You Were Mine is a close second, Imaginary Girl IMHO is one of the best melodies composed. Wait, let me just turn up the volume.

So the song inspired me, I guess it made me think back to when I was younger and being in love was fresh and sweet and innocent, sheesh, I had a few spring flings that provide great memories for middle aged women. I love spring and autumn, the light has a warmth that is not as bright and harsh as summer. I also wanted to do something different and use satin ribbon as a backing, we all know that use of woven fabrics are a challenge due to the fraying. So I had to think back to the lessons my grandmother taught me about ironing double seams. I am also not a pink girl, I don't use it much, it is not a colour that speaks to me naturally. But spring has a tenderness that is best represented by pink. I used a salmon hue, both for the ultra suede and the silk satin backing. I chose not to cover up the beautiful colour, and beaded 3 complex flower shapes with multiple embelishment layers. The clasp is a brick stitched flap with transparent snap clasps, you can hardly see them.

I must be hitting some stage in life - those who know me well will fall of their seats seeing flowers and pink in a Bianca piece. But that is what challenges are about, I don't always have time to participate in everything, but this worked out well. Thanks should go to Trudy from Blackcrow who created the great collage and organised the challenge. There were 7 winners, it must have been a very difficult job to pick the best from such a quality group of artists. Congratulations to Sandra, with her wonderful cuff, she did an absolutely awesome job interpreting the theme.

Play time is important

2009-03-22T09:08:00.005+10:30

A significant amount of time as an artist is spent working, although some may call it playing. To me it is work, you need to keep adding to your arsenal of techniques and skills. Inspiration does not just hit me out of the blue most times, I work at my art and then magic happens.

Steven Pressfield akins it to paying ones dues and calling the muses in his book The War of Art. To discipline oneself and consider creating as work is sometimes quite foreign and alien to artists. It should just happen, I hear that all the time, where is my creative mojo, I have lost it. Why can't I just create and where did my inspiration go. There is nothing just about it, the moment you sit down and work, deliberately set aside all those notions you have not to do it, you open the door. There are times when I allow myself to become distracted by life and mundane activities, designed to keep us fed, clothed and housed. These activities are not sustenance for the soul, but necessary nonetheless.

Ask yourself - do I feel that this is the work I was born to do, do I have the conviction that this is what my purpose is in life? The answer to that will silence all critics, remove all doubt (for a while) and you can move on and do the work. Inspiration comes, it always does, always will - when you just do it.

I've been mixing stitches lately, transitioning from one to the other, sometimes seamlessly, at times with some manipulation. It is a great exercise to create those AHA! moments, when links are made and connections fall into place.

The earrings and pendant in this blog post are the result of some of the work I have been doing, they are a mix of peyote, modified ndebele and right angle weave. You can use the same elements for charms, create a few and use them as a bracelet or a necklace. I placed a tutorial for the earrings on the Instructions page. Unfortunately, Blogger does not provide storage (yet) so I have not been able to figure out how to post a PDF. Should you wish to receive the sheet as a PDF, just contact me and I will send it to you.

Have fun, work it, and show me what you have come up with during your Playtime.

Back to basics

2009-03-15T17:14:00.009+10:30

The talented Belinda Saville stated on her blog Bead Fetish the other day that she is going back to basics. Ah I love basics, the basics of everything, of life, of beading but also of craft. I've always been fascinated with ancient techniques, as demonstrated by my love affair with clay. But the basics are more than that to me, they are the trades and the artisans who have used their skills to create useable opbjects. I don't get very hung up on the division between craft and art, what is an object, what is fine art and what belongs where. It serves no purpose, and personally I believe art should imbue those objects we make to sip tea from, sleep in or wear on a day to day basis. It is almost like letting that wonderful perfume go to waste because we only dab it behind the ears when we have a moment supreme, not when we are in the supermarket. I think that is not right. Those day to day little pleasures create a baseline of enjoyment and happiness. Why save those for moments that may be few and far between, why not on a daily basis. In the things we use, and see and touch.

So I went way back, to utility, to object for purpose. The moment that you make something, with your own hands, and you achieve something. I remember as a child how utterly fascinating it was to learn how to knit, for a long time I made my own sweaters and clothes in my teens. The environment I lived in fostered that, handspun wool, handmade cutlery and crockery. Whole foods. When I get unhappy, I think back to what made me happy when I was young. I do a lot of wandering around wool shops, looking at those feasts of colour, the peaches, linen greens, plums and deep chocolate browns of the alpaca wools, the new soy and bamboo fibres. I imagine what I could knit with those threads, how it would feel, and it takes me back many years. The other day I went to a performance in the Adelaide Fringe Festival, Garida. This folk band consists of 4 very young and extremely talented musicians and I could not believe the trip down memory lane I made in my mind whilst listening to the violin, mandolin, flute and guitar. That is the music I remember, the uplifting, complex reels and songs with Celtic, Irish and Scandinavian origins. I briefly played a wood flute, many years ago. Those emotions to me are basics and they create in me a sense of longing for simplicity.

And it was in search of simplicity that I tried my hand at an old craft: that of basket weaving. I love baskets, in many forms and made from diverse materials. They don't have to be open, baskets can contain something but are more than a vessel. They are created from materials that hold no intrinsic value, from reeds and plants and threads and spokes and weavers, suddenly this vessel appears. Recognisable, useful, beautiful and with character. The 3 littlet baskets below are made with a combination of plant material (gathered and prepared), fibres such as linen, silk and nylon thread and I have of course added a few beads to the mix.

This little basket is my first one from natural plant materials. As you can see it has shrunk a little bit and is a little bit loose. The technique is coiling, you use long ends of plant material(gathered, dried and soaked) and start coiling, stitching with rafia every few cms. I like the use of the dried flower stem, and by twisting the plant materials, you can get some colour variation.

This little fish tail basket is done in a proper basket weave called twining, with spokes and weavers. I added some colour by using some coconut and a reddish fish tail shaped leaf, unfortunately, it broke when I transported it but it still reminds me of a salmon tail. I used irish linen to stitch a baroque pearl dyed in some mossy golden green, it really gives it some additional colour.

The last little basket I want to show is one that took me a few weeks to finish.It is coiled around a core, this is called a closed core coil. I used japanese paper cord that a friend bought for me during a trip in Japan. I also used oval reed and cut it in different widths, just to be playful. The cords used are natural linen, nylon Clon cord and I have also used some silk thread. The beads are stitched as I coiled and the little jojo bead stays put due to pressure between two rows. I really love this little natural basket as these are the colours I see when I look out my window. The cliff, greens, browns, sand.

The weaving and coiling techniques can be used in jewellery as well. Who can forget the beautiful twined and coiled wearable works of art by Mary Hettmansperger, or Dallas Lovett or the beaded baskets by Marcie Stone or the exquisitely coloured twined artwork by Marilyn Moore. By expanding your world and learning techniques that may at face value have nothing to do with bead work, your creative abilities increase and improve. Go beyond what you know and have learned so far. Take a course in weaving, or knitting, or basket weaving. A marvellous eye candy book is 500 Baskets; A celebration of the Basketmaker's Art in the Lark Book series.

After all this natural work, I also want to show a very opulent and sophisticated piece of beadwork I finished just recently. This piece is advanced Right Angle Weave - from one extreme to the other with this stitch. Remember I claimed I could't quite work out what the hullaballoo was with this stitch in my last blog post The Secret. I suspect I am rapidly working it out. This piece was not easy to complete, she was fighting me every step of the way. The thread tangled in the stitched elements. So I have not named her yet, although I have threatened to call it the Royal Pain. In a few days time I will be over my frustration with this piece and may name it properly. There are gorgeous marbled toho sea blue size 11s in this piece, they are exquisite.

One of the side effects of the back to basics trip I have made in the past few weeks is that I am incredibly inspired. Not just by the skills of the crafts people of yester year but my own responses to the movements whilst making these little vessels. It does not matter that they are imperfect and can only hold a few dried chilis. It is the satisfaction of having made a useful object by yourself. We are so obsessed with the artificial, the unnatural and the instant gratification. This touches something in us, we remember it from a long time ago. When we were still simple people, with simple desires and simple needs. I love being with people who have these sorts of skills, and talk about the tactile aspects of creating these objects.

The Secret

2009-03-06T20:05:00.019+10:30

Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Paul Tournier

I just finished a piece from a pattern from Beadwork, a Marcia DeCoster right angle weave pendant with several layers. I don't usually create pieces from magazines but this one particular project looked like something I would enjoy making. When I was beading the pendant, I started digressing in my mind, typically the piece I am working on evokes some sort of thought process. It is the time I can be quiet, meditation time. I decided to call the piece The Secret.

All of us have our secrets, things we do not give to eachother for safe keeping and do not divulge. Thoughts and feelings and experiences we keep to ourselves, sometimes as they would hurt, or put us in a bad light or make us look a bit foolish. I don't mean secrets like wearing your nickers two days in a row or the clandestine midnight indulgence at the fridge. But those things you hide, sometimes even from your own daylight. The torch you still carry for an old lover, the thoughts what life would be like with them around. The favoritism some mothers may feel for one of their children; the special one. The money you stole from your mum's purse to buy strawberry flavoured lip gloss, the ones in the glass tube with the roller ball as the Bonne Belle brand used to sell. Your dreams of being a ballerina or a writer or a painter. Secrets you keep about your true age, the wrinkles on your face and the sadness and disappointment you may feel in your heart. Some of those are the secret you keep for all those years eating you up inside. The secret so many women carry with them; of being inadequate, or less than more beautiful girls and of not being able to cope with everything life throws at us.

I know a few extremely successful people, who wear masks of professional and social abundance but feel like a hollow vessel and try to keep that to themselves; but it seeps through the cracks. I don't know about you, but for a long time I have felt I had to obey certain rules without knowing why. I guess rules about conforming to what is expected of us: being married, being heterosexual, being seen and not heard, being graceful, being professional, being useful, fitting in, being social. The secret of not wanting or not being able to conform to those expectations can weigh tons. For some reason our world thrives on secrets - secrets fascinate us, we want to know what they are about. The Secret, that interesting theory about the Law of Attraction, has created a niche for itself. By alluding to some ancient "secret", an old knowledge one can tap into, the creators of the movement have done something really clever - we all wanted some of that. I never quite understood why we would want to attract only wealth for ourselves and not world peace and an end to war and hunger for all though.

The piece has two layers, one bronze and shiny, the upper layer we show to people. Reflecting and metallic. The layer underneath is that magic midnight blue/purple, a royal, absorbing and deep. A little bit mysterious even. I added a few twists and turns to the piece with a handmade clasp and a spiral stitched segment. The periwinkle rondels give it some lightness. It needed some lightness, the piece was like a secret, it weighed a bit heavy until I added touches of glimmer and red for warmth.

The image below is a close up, it shows the Cellini spiral segments in the strap. I am really starting to like right angle weave, it is growing on me. Until recently I didn't really care for odd count Peyote either but you have to get over your resistance at times.

Marcia DeCoster is publishing a book on RAW later this year, I can't wait for it. I like the sculptural qualities of the stitch and that it is multi dimensional, you can "bead around corners". It is a very good stitch for bezelling asymmetrical cabs for example or bits and pieces that do have an undulating edge where peyote would not be that suitable.

Friends in the right places

2009-03-02T08:04:00.005+10:30

The lovely Joanne Ivy from Cranberry lent me a digital camera until I can finally sort out what the heck I want to buy. I love scuba diving so when my trusted Sony Digital camera died after a dive trip to Vanuatu in July 08, I was not ony devastated, I was also wondering what to purchase. It needs to be a camera that can be taken sub surface. Whilst I take 20 years to finally make up my mind, Jo came to the rescue, thanks Jo! And so I can show off what I have been making recently.

The first piece is a mix of techniques I learned during the Cynthia Rutledge workshops last October. The chain consists of trellis weave (RAW) and what I call chinese pagoda link, the square shape reminds me a lot of Asian architecture. The name is non inspiring The Midnight Hour. I have to say I have never been a huge fan of right angle weave but I am starting to come around. The pagoda link can be used to link segments of a necklace together, but also as square loops on a bezel stitched rivoli for example.

The second piece has a necklace that is also right angle weave, with ribbon threaded through and peyote stitched sea creatures linked through the ribbon. The seahorse is a porcelain base with a precious metal fine silver glaze. I made a similar piece a while ago, but was not happy with the way the seahorse was attached. In my view there is nothing wrong with creating Mark II of a prototype.

The third piece is a teal bracelet, the seed beads were supposed to be a denim blue but are more steel hence the name Teal and Steel. It has a bezeled rivoli, peyote stitched rectangular links and connecting links embellished with crystals and other finery. Very femininin and sophisticated and a real adventure to bead due to requirement to add some frill and refinement with the embelishment, the square links have the potential to make this piece look severe.

So after the politically tinged and personal posts of late, finally, I succumb to posting images of beadwork.

I've booked another diving trip, to PNG this time, again in the middle of winter - early July. So I better get my boots on and purchase a new digital camera.

Skin and Bones

2009-02-02T15:05:00.002+10:30

Lately I have been thinking about my mum a lot, in a different way than I used to think about her. I need to put this into context, I have not seen or spoken to my mother face to face for oh I guess 24 years if not longer. The last time we spoke, the tone of the conversation was a well worn groove, a vinyl record full of scratches that jumps to the same spot over and over – raging anger, I am no good, everything is my fault, I am an evil child, she is such a martyr, don’t I know how sick she is. I don’t fully recall the exact topic of discussion, but I remember how it made me feel – it was a sense of finality, the need to close the door for good and move on. My mother had a stroke when she was 34 or 35, in February 1977 and I was barely 13 at the time. She was never an easy person to live with, my childhood consisted of a series of dramas revolving around mum’s depression and manic episodes, her drinking, unexplained disappearances, pitying looks from friends and family and a keen sense of isolation as I knew our family was not “typical”. When she had her stroke things changed for the worse, to cut a long story short – she turned into this enraged, bitter and twisted monster that made life hell for everyone around her, especially for me, as she believed I took something from her to turn her into a paralysed person in a wheelchair. She came home almost a year after her life changing event, having been in rehabilitation for a long time, and together with my younger siblings, I was removed from home by child services close to my 15th birthday. A typical family disintegration, as happens so often when one parent is seriously ill.

It took me a long time to recover and find my feet; with one event the lives of 4 children changed forever and I felt like a 100 year old in a 13 year old body, old beyond her years, but also frozen in a specific point in time . It was not until I was placed into a halfway home with 2 open minded hippy house parents that I realized how much we had to walk on eggs all these years. My siblings and I were split up due to age differences and we continued growing up and apart at distance, and never the twain shall meet. At age 17, my mother’s best friend Linda told me how sorry she had felt for me, as I bore the brunt of mum’s rages, and she finally named the enemy – manic depressive. In a way, this was sadness and relief, so it was not just me, but it made me so sad that everyone around mum had tried to ignore the problem, everyone knew but did not want to know. I guess such was the way to deal with that at the time but it puts an unreal burden of responsibility on a child. I was the one mum forced to buy her alcohol, I was the child enemy and the pretend adult ally at the same time – what a dichotomy. No wonder I have a split personality LOL. I had sporadic contact with mum, and after a few years I had to make the decision to cut the cord for she was capable of destroying me and tried very hard to do so by methods that came directly from the Machiavellian Guide for Despots. For the past 30 years, whenever I thought of my mother, and my childhood, I was filled with anger; I identified myself by my past, a survivor, scar tissue invisible to the naked eye but there, always there. Unfortunately, I inherited the cause of her strokes, a genetic mutation causing thrombophilia and cardio vascular disease and very recently I was told by my GP that I may be on medication for the rest of my life. For some reason, and I cannot explain it with logic, this has changed something in me.

I am starting to remember my mother differently, her creativity, her intellect, how adored she was by many when she was “good”, the fun we had, her fierceness, her ability to cut people down to basics, her honesty, generosity and her guts. La Femme Mechant is pushed somewhat to the background, I can laugh about the many times we came home to an empty house, one of the signals mum was going off the rails was that she started to give everything away. And I mean EVERYTHING. Mum was usually surrounded by artists, singers, hippies, fringe dwellers, stray cats, lost children, writers, losers and interesting people when I grew up and I am appreciating what she turned me into, I suspect that my life would have looked very differently and I cannot bear the thought of being someone other than I am. I understand her fear better now as well, the fear to lose control, the fear to lose everything, the fear to lose mobility, the fear to die – and she did, all of these things. So fear is useless, that is the lesson perhaps, one that I try to apply whilst knowing my body and my mind are as fragile as hers. And I miss her, I miss the relationship we could have had, the events she could have been at, the pride she may have felt in my accomplishments. My creativity is from her. So are my strong sense of right and wrong, my sharp tongue, and a lot of other things. It is what it is, we are who we are, and the path ahead of us is the one we had to walk on. I hope she knows this, my mother, that it was not her fault and that I forgive her and am grateful for the gifts she has given me. And that I wish her well and think of her with kindness and love. Skin and bones, sticks and stones, heart and soul – the components that make up us human beings.

I am working on this piece for her. I started it out as a spring piece, with tender greens, hyacinth blues and the soft gold and pink of spring flowers as mum was born in Spring and she loved flowers. But it turned into a wreath somehow, so maybe I have buried the past finally. I don't know. I suspect that I am not kind on selfishness based on the way I grew up, nor on the lack of responsibility and blame storming we seem so fond of in our society. I grew up being responsible for self, and with help from kind people, I decided not to become a train wreck. But I could have. If I can climb out of that, and I have seen people worse off than myself become very successful people, then some Australians need a swift kick in the pants. Gosh one thought follows another - there are people in India, Africa and elsewhere starving. There are people in Australia, the lucky country, holding out their hands when the government dishes out money in desparation to stave of recession. It irks me how people talk about that, as if they are entitled to "my money". Well I have some news. That is tax money from people who work very hard and many get the colloquial nix. Show some blooming gratitude, then show some community spirit and give it all away to the people who lost it all or need it more. I learnt that from her too, the giving away gene. This may be the lucky country, but for some of us it is the lazy country. I am not quite sure it is fair to get more in benefits than one contributes, unless there are true disabilities and disadvantage. My I am getting really conservative in my middle age. I didn't have the opportunity to experience my mum in middle age, but maybe I take after her in that respect.

I like to write about what I think. I don't really care if that is not a populist opinion. It is made way too easy for some people and I think it is time we all put a stop to that and return to some values that make sense. With rights comes responsibilities. I said before, this is my blog, I have my feet on the table. And my clothes on the floor and the dishes have not been done in a week.

Deep breath, here is another one!

2009-01-16T21:15:00.011+10:30

I guess if you follow my blog somewhat, you will have noticed that I have been shining in absence for a few weeks. There is a reason for that and that reason is that I have taken a short holiday. I find it quite striking how often I have heard that people are so glad that we saw the arse end of 2008, a universal tough year it seems to have been. A lot of my friends and family have gone through life changes or things happened in that annus horribiles that changed them around. Most of my "episodes" last year were not that dramatic. I kinda burnt out after 2.5 years struggling as a project manager in the Dept of Health. It took me so long to admit that, actually it started at the end of 2007 when I had to see a specialist for heart problems. I managed to last another 10 months despite knowing deep in my heart that the job was not good for me. See I do not give up easily, I like conquering challenges, sometimes to the detriment of my own sanity. Slowly I am changing that, I tend to give out more than I have to give. So I resigned in October. I am working in a much smaller environment now, and that gives room to breath.

A few months ago I discovered that I had high blood pressure, and I mean H I G H. My mother had several strokes when she was 34, 11 years younger than I am today and I found out only a few years ago that this was probably caused by a thrombophilia gene. Yeah, I inherited it, and a double whammy too. So I had to make a choice to start taking medication, the GP put it this way - girl, you can get on that bus now and get over it. I would let you try out diet and more exercise if I thought you had 6 months, but you don't have 6 months. So I got on the bus. Hypertension drugs come in many forms, but most have a few side effects. Small price to pay but it has taken me a few months to "get over it". Funny how you suddenly feel confronted with your own mortality and changes in your body. I can see changes, my skin is changing, the bags under my eyes and the second chin are growing, my tolerance for alcohol is almost nil (one drink and I am anyones) and heck, I can't pull the young strapping lads as well as I used to. [kidding]

I am a big fan of Bonnie Rait and in her song The Nick of Time she sings about how life gets mighty precious, when there is less of it to haste. It is only now that I am starting to understand what that means. For a long time you want to get older, and then one day, you are older. I think that is the moment when you have to decide that you gotta slow it down. You see, if you are more aware, of self, of now, of moments, then life is longer than if you push through life as if you are heading somewhere fast. That is what I want to do this year. Slow it down. Eckhardt Tolle has written a few books about that - the power of now.

So in the last few weeks, I have spent time with friends on a houseboat on the river Murray. It must be one of the most striking landscapes I have ever seen. The blue of the sky and the ochre, salmon, mustard yellow colours of the cliffs with the deep grey greens of the river folliage create a picture postcard vista. You can see that the water levels are down, some of the small lagoons are completely dried up with smelly carp carcasses drying in the sun and there is not that much birdlife as one would expect. But you know what, it was still just fantastic. We could spend all day just looking. There is always a pelican, galah, turtle, honeyeater, small hawk, or other bird to see. We spent a few days at a site that had 3 nests of small herrons in the trees. I beaded almost every day, finishing some projects and working on my book projects. The landscape is inspiring, the amount of macro flowers and plants around is incredible. I made several types of flowers from seed beads and pearls. When I close my eyes I can still smell the trees and hear the silence.

I managed to bead on a boat, how cool is that. Yeah that is me in the white wind breaker.
So here is another one, another year. I have a few things that I want to do this year, but I am not going to list my resolutions. That only creates problems with expectations :). Instead, I have a to do list. It will be a great year, I feel it in my bones. You know, the glass is always half full. Some media people find it necessary to feed the doom and gloom factory. There is nothing wrong with taking responsibility for your life, in fact, I would encourage everyone to get off their backsides and do something about what is not working in your life. You do not need money to be happy, you do not need to be rich to build on your financial future, you do not need to be a politician to make changes. A little bit of elbow grease and some determination and a good dose of Can Do.

Deep breath, here is another one. Lets make a difference this year.

The story of the Ugly Acorn

2008-12-14T13:11:00.036+10:30

A little while ago, I was working on a piece that caused a bit of tension between the piece and I. Things did not turn out the way I wanted but in a funny turn of events, they turned out the way they should be. In the midst of trying to rescue the pendant, I retreated to a place within myself, I am sure many will know this spot. It is the place where you go when you get in the zone and try to work out what you can do to remedy what ails the beadwork in progress. At first I did not notice the little voice, as entrenched as I was in deciding what to do. I thought I heard something but was not sure, but then I heard it again, a tiny little voice saying I don't like it one bit! I looked around, I was sure I was alone in the house. Seeing nothing, I turned to the beadwork when once more I heard I don't like it, this will not stand! It was then that I realised it was my little pendant talking. I looked at it, this strange shape that should have been an elegant acorn, but bumps and lumps had appeared in the work due to not following instructions correctly and turned it into a woven piece of unfortunate imperfection. For a moment I was perplexed, but then I thought, well if the beads talk to me, why not a pendant.

And so I asked - what don't you like, little Acorn, what is wrong? I swear I heard a quiver in its voice when it told me I am ugly, you made me ugly and I don't like it one bit! I hid my surprise well, or so I thought, because it said Do you think I didn't hear you mumble, I heard every word you said. You said I was an error of judgment, a silly mistake - see I am ugly! The little pendant started to weep, and it tore at my heart strings. Indeed, I had mumbled those words, I had looked at it and said, well, aren't you a funny old thing, should I tear you to pieces or try to rescue you. But I could see my insensitive comments were somewhat hurtful and I tried to rescue the situation. Don't worry, I said, we will work it out. Why don't I embelish you some more and see what happens. By the way, I never said you were ugly. I inferred it, said the Acorn, with a smug look on its beaded face (probably cause it used a big word), you meant what you said. No I didn't! Gosh I started to get a bit defensive there. Yes you did! Acorn, you don't exist, you are imaginary, and you are a figment of my imagination, this is not real. Then why are you arguing with me, said the Acorn. I had no answer to that and repeated my offer of embelishment. The Acorn thought about that for a minute. So you mean you will add little flourishes, and fringe and hang things off me to make me look less ugly?
I think so, but you are not ugly and why is that so important to you anyway?

I threaded a needle and decided on the colours to use for some fringing to hide the worst bumps and lumps. The acorn sighed. Important? Being beautiful is everything. All your creations are waiting in this big corridor, a waiting room in the sky, untill we are ready to come to life. We hope to be beautiful, a masterpiece, something that will make people gasp with wonder. Ouch, you are hurting me. Stop squirming then, if you move, it will make it harder I said, just sit still, I will put the fringe on as fast as I can. Tell me more, how does that waiting room work? I thought only the beads spoke to me. Don't you always say the creations are more than the sum of its parts, well, that is true. I thought you were smarter than that, Oh Creator. Okay now don't get cheeky, I am just wondering. That is exactly what we are created from, wonder said the Acorn. Imagination is a very strong force, stronger than you know. We are born from wondering, sometimes we only last a while, when children wonder, we are born but forgotten quickly by the child, That is okay, we don't mind. You have to know your place in the universe. But when some people wonder, magic happens. And we all want to be magical. So being so ugly, upsets me. I wasn't supposed to turn out this way!! The acorn started to cry again, big tears rolling down its sides. I look like a misshapen strawberry, booohooooohooooo. I am fat, I look fat in this, look at me. LOOOOOHOOOOK AAAATTTTTT MEEEEEEEEE!

Stop crying, little Acorn, I said, blow your nose. Let me tell you something. Suppose everything was perfect, every person on earth was gorgeous, every creation a masterpiece. What would there be to strive for? What would there be left for us, we would have nothing to dream about, nothing to talk and argue and debate. Nothing left to improve, and also nothing left to learn. Perfection is overrated. And besides, I don't think you are ugly, a bit unfinished perhaps, and interesting looking. The Acorn sat up and looked at me. Do you mean that, it said, are you sure, cause if you are fibbing to me to spare my feelings, well, I dont think I could stand that. Yes, I mean that. Look at you, you are interesting, and I made you and breathed life into you and don't be ludicrous, of course you are not ugly. Who is ludicrous here, Acorn said, It ain't me talking to a figment of my imagination. I finished stitching on the last of the embelishment. There, I said, that looks very nice, do you want me to get a mirror so you can have a look? I fetched a small pocket mirror and held it up so that Acorn could have a look at itself. It is purple and pink, Acorn said, isn't that a bit, well gay? Not at all, I answered, those are great colours to compliment your bronze skin. It looks great doesn't it? It sure does, came the response. Do you think a little bit more at the top will be nice? Just to hide that bald patch, could you?

I obliged and stitched on a small beaded bead, with a bit of colour. Acorn twirled and pranced in front of the small mirror, and purred, I swear, it purred. I noticed Acorn was looking a bit pensive, as it it had realised something. After a few moments it turned to me and said - Thank You, I feel awfully special. So what will happen now? Will you wear me or leave me on a shelf? Will we ever talk again? Or will you forget about me? I smiled at my Ugly Little Acorn - I won't forget you, I am in this room most days of the week. We will talk about whatever you like. Did you want a bit more colour on the top or is that too much? Stitch away, Acorn said, make me beautiful.And it turned its nobbly little head to me in submission to the needle and thread.

And here it is:

And so it came to pass. My ugly little Acorn is proudly sitting in a prominent spot, I notice it when I come into my beadroom. I will probably never wear it shhhhh, don't say a thing, but just looking at it makes me happy.

Post Script: I received a lot of support either via this blog or email for my thread Sins of the Past. I thank you all for that. It is not my intention to be a mouth piece, or to be pushed forward by folks who are concerned about voicing what they think but don't want to say out loud for fear of retributiton, I understand all of that by the way. I had something to say, and apparently it is something others have to say as well. One of my passions is writing, I have an unshakable belief in the power of the word. Maybe we have reached a tipping point, we will see in the new year. Change is acoming, I can sense it in the air.

Looking back from the future

2008-11-22T08:34:00.000+10:30

I recently purchased a book called 50 years from today, which includes short essays about the future of humankind by 60 of the world’s most brilliant minds, edited by Mike Wallace, CBS journalist extraordinaire. I would recommend this book to anyone, as I was reading it on the train the other day it evoked a wonderful discussion with a lady sitting next to me and it did its job in connecting two strangers. Parts of it are scary, parts of it are extremely uplifting as all of the writers are fully aware of the cusp of Humankind, that historical fork in the road we are on that determines whether we change and thrive, or perish as a species. That set me to thinking, and I decided to write my own essay, just to see what the brain could come up with.

I wake up early on that sunny day in November 2058, as I usually do and I do not need an alarm clock to ensure my eyes open, the sun peeking in through the portholes of the 65 foot yacht I have called home for the past 30 years does that all by itself. Today we are moored in Port Vila, my partner and I have sailed across the Pacific for many years and we have made several friends around the region. I keep in touch with family and friends through our permanent satellite internet connection on the yacht, and we video conference each other every day. I established a network around the globe of young women in Information Technology roles 45 years ago, when I decided to retire at 50. My role is to connect experienced professionals with graduates in a virtual mentoring network. The majority of work is done from home, with most homes being nodes connected to the internet grid, governments mandated this in 2015 as a legitimate measure to stop emmissions from millions of cars driving people to work. In turn, our yacht is completely self sufficient, with solar sails, desal equipment and a fully equipped greenhouse on board ensuring that we leave no destructive footprint.

Floating houses are no longer a novelty, the rise in sea levels as a result of climate change meant that millions of people on coastal areas needed to find alternatives for living and making a living. Solar, wind and wave energy are legislated on the houses of the sea, and I have read several books on the technology of least invasive energy generation. The groundswell of change that swept our tortured world started in 2009, with the election of the first African American president in the US who encouraged a new way of thinking based on hope, sharing and community spirit. It was not an easy ride, wars were fought over depleting energy supplies fed by rigid structures of greed and short sighted power houses. World events got worse before they got better, bull headed conservative men holding pissing contests over the right to speed, the right to destroy and the right to pollute did not give up centuries of assumed superiority easily. But change came and was created by the voice of moderation, the strength of billions of individuals creating a forcefield of accountability. The naked ape finally listened to the voice of reason and simplified life. The lack of brains was replaced by the real lack of want, for everyone on earth. Technology obliterated borders, encouraged understanding and the sharing of knowledge and connected millions of women together.

After my brain has woken up that glorious day in November 2058, I have a light breakfast of a cereal mix that is especially blended aided by information gathered by the onboard virtual doctor. This sophisticated mix of medical and information technology equipment is aware of my genetic makeup, and checks my health on a daily basis with an implanted wireless chip that transmits information about cholesterol, bp and infections. The virtual doctor is capable of assessing complex conditions and design the appropriate treatment. Should I need surgery, virtual reality operating theatres enable a doctor somewhere on earth to perform surgery on my body. Health care is more about prevention than treatment, and my healthy diet, exercise and yoga regime have resulted in a significantly extended life span. I am 95 but look and feel like a 45 year old and still have at least 40 years on this earth to look forward to. Malaria and Aids were eradicated and are now a distant memory. Childhood and adult obesity is unheard of, thanks to the personal responsibility agreements programme implemented by the UN after the Geneva Wellness Convention of 2032.

After breakfast I grab my PDA to open up a connection to the Global Community of Women forum, and greet my friends Lakshmi in New Delhi, Violet in Nicaragua, Susan in Detroit and Marionne in Zimbabwe. Although there are no real borders anymore, and the leadership of nations of yesteryear were replaced by a gIobal governance committee, we still use old names to indicate Global Provinces, but the world has definitely transformed in a monde sans frontieres. I can see my friends in their homes and they can see me, I can talk to their children and husbands, and to the students in the school Violet has founded in Nicaragua. Interactive virtual reality video conferencing equipment even makes it possible for me to give them a hug. Marionne is running a group of artists in Zimbabwe, we met 25 years ago in Adelaide, where she lived with her husband Alfred and two children after they had to flee the Zimbabwean war that raged for years. Luckily they could return and have played a huge part in rebuilding their province with help of an Ethical Global Community Bank that funds projects around the world. Small groups of women around the world educate each other, start up businesses together, share income and watch each others children in online crèches. This is what made the world change, women connecting and using technology to break down borders and implement guerrilla change programs. It does not take a village to raise a child and build a community, it takes a whole connected world. I talk to my friends for an hour, and am pleased to hear that everyone is well and healthy, I was a bit worried about Susan, at 131 she is getting on a bit but a recent stem cell treatment has regenerated her failing eye sight and she is able to continue her bead projects.

I also check vidmails from our children, although we never had biological children, we adopted several kids, and I love hearing from them. Most of the kids are adult now, but our youngest, Michael, is 17 and is studying to be a doctor at the University of the United States of Asia Pacific, where he was born and left on the steps of a church. Of course he needs money, and is very charming as he smooches on vidmail with his old mother, who obliges and deposits several hundred credits in his account. I also view the vidmail from our daughter Carolina, who we adopted as a snotty, teary 4 year old from Jamaica, has grown in a beautiful intelligent young woman, her stunning ebony face glows as she tells me about her first week in her new job as a air lock engineer on the Mars Outpost. Carolina is just like me, lively arm movements, tactful as a brick, heart on her sleeve and speaks in fluent Dutch with me as if it was her mother tongue. Which it was, we shared little secrets in Dutch when she grew up on the yacht, a childhood of swimming with the dolphins and fish, she was a real water baby. It is amazing that she has chosen a career in space, but with the modern hyperdrive technology and interplanetary communications she can come back to earth often and spend time on the ocean. I miss her terribly, my little partner in bead crime, she drove her adoring father almost mad with her keen intellect and probing questions. Aris, our oldest son, calls in live from the Galapagos, where he is working on a thermo energy station. He talks to his father for a while, they discuss how to improve the performance of some of the solar panels on the yacht, which they installed together last summer. After much grumbling and arguing I must say, they can’t ever do something without leaving a big mess or getting into an argument who knows best. I walk away from their conversation, most of it is very technical and way over my head.

I am working on my 5th book about creativity and of course I am still creating beaded art. I am working on baskets, beaded sculptural containers and vessels that are displayed in an online exhibition and sold around the world. When we made the choice to leave the land and sail the world all those years ago, I had to think of smart strategies to be able to create in a confined space and generate an income. Writing books about creative processes, providing online education and virtual exhibitions have proven to be a consistent method of communicating and reaching out to the beading world spanning the globe. Ethical trading cooperatives in India, Africa, Asia Pac and South America provide materials and beads which they send ahead to ports around the world. I know there is a shipment waiting for me in the Port Vila Transition Centre, Lakshmi has sent it to me from Delhi. She coordinates several community based artisan cooperatives that have cut out the wholesalers who used to pay the suppliers nothing whilst making a hefty profit. This way the whole community benefits, and not just a few. One of the conditions to be a member of the cooperative is to ensure safe working conditions, no child labour and equity for male and female artisans. There is open disclosure about income and profit margins and a large portion of the profit is used to fund charities, affordable housing and healthcare and education programs. Another criterion is the lack of pollution and the care of the environment in the manufacturing process. Humanity has been able to divert a climatic catastrophic chain of events by cleaning up its act, but it is up to the individuals to ensure that the impact of human beings on planet earth does not reach the disastrous proportions that it had early in the century. Creativity is a huge part of humanity, the convergence of technology in the last century has resulted in the need of humans to develop the spiritual and creative side of their being.

Sometimes I think back 50 years and marvel at the changes that swept through the world, driven by individuals and committed people Who says one person cannot make an impact? What the human brain can imagine, it can create and we have the power to change many things. Maybe not always the will or the political drive, but it is always about choice.

Creativity is about the What If proposition, about letting the mind wander and try out new things. I have never written something like this before, it was very interesting and fun to do. Try it yourself, not just in creative writing, but in beadwork. Im my next blog, I will post a few pics of variations on a theme, simple bead design processes that will make you grow in your skills.

Perception is everything

2008-11-14T08:17:00.002+10:30

When I rode the train in to work this morning, I noticed an interesting character on the platform of one of the large stations on the route. He was thin, pretty tall, with wild hair and dressed in a Superman outfit. He had on the famous leotard with the Superman logo, a small cape and wore those large underpants with a belt that appeared to have some superhero tools on it. His arm was outstretched and he was mumbling, as if he was fighting a villain only he could see. At first my fellow passengers and I made a bit of fun, but then I thought - well, who is to say that what he sees and believes is not real? Maybe he is the smart one, and we are silly conforming to daily routines that give us this perception of reality. Perception is sometimes truth, I hear all the time that I am so different face to face than I am in the virtual world.

You only see one dimension of a person, a flat screen. In the blogging world there is a process called Tagging. Tag - you are it! I suspect it is a way to get to know the blogger a little bit better as well as a way to send folks reading my blog to other sites. And since perception is sometimes totally false, I have no problem with sharing a bit about myself. I am going to struggle finding 7 bloggers, but there is no time limit is there :).

These are the rules to follow if someone tags your Blog.
1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by including links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs.

Seven facts about me people may not know.

1. My first name is Barbara, Bianca is my middle name. I don't look like a Babs, or a Barbie and I have used my middle name since, well forever. Don't call me baby, don't call me Babs, Crafty Barbie will do :)

2. I published my first poem in a book called Poetry as Childs Play, when I was around 11, 12. The author of the book was Fred Portegies Zwart, a well known author in the Netherlands, where I was born. He visited my school in the 70's and ran an experimental children's poetry development course, resulting in the book. I don't remember what it was about though, although I vaguely remember something about a crocodile.

3. I cook a mean Indian curry for a white girl, my partner is Indian and I cook curries at least twice a week. We have curry parties at our house, and tickets sell within the first 10 minutes. hehehehehe. I went to India in 2005 and absolutely fell in love with the place.

4. I am a sook. I cry at diaper commercials, and howl when that cute little doggy selling toilet paper appears on screen. My heart is totally soft and I am suckered in by advertising.

5. I have a fetish for hair products, I buy and own bottles of shampoo, conditioner, masks, serums, creams, flyaway products, shine sprays. This is all in some feeble attempt to tame that mane on my head, I have thick, lush long hair that is a bit wavy and does not behave. I use a mix of concrete, superglue and Allbond to keep it in check and my colleagues are amused on Casual Fridays when I let it loose. I am the wild woman of borneo.

6. I have a terrible fear of heights, and I mean hysterics set in. Which is weird when you consider I am a scuba dive master, although I am no longer insured. My favorite past time asides from beading is going on scuba dive trips. I do technical deep dives and wreck penetration dives and don't blink an eyelid. But I have been known to be dragged of those carnival pirate ship rides, you know, those ones that go upside down. I go off my tree. If the good Bead Goddess would have wanted us to hang upside down in some carnival ride, well she woulda given us a lack of fear yeah?

7. In a deep dark past, I studied Environmental Law. I worked for the UNEP for a bit, the UN Environmental Program, long abolished. So yeah, I am a greeny tree hugger socialist cheese loving dutchie, bite me.

So did that meet your expectations?

Sins of the Past

2008-10-31T11:25:00.000+10:30

I believe there are a few interesting parallels we can draw between what is happening in the global financial market, and the current state of the bead scene in Australia. I am mindful not to call it the bead industry, and there is a reason for that. What we currently see in the market globally is a direct result of greed, of a lack of regulation, of a lack of leadership and certainly an absence of ethics. New target audiences for mortgages were identified by financial institutions to ensure value to the share holders, unfortunately, the ethics in decision making did not considers stakeholders such as customers, society and long term vision. These concepts died with the need for more, the desire to jump on the bandwagon of sub prime selling, and lack of leadership in a largely self regulated industry. The great Dr Greenspan had to acknowledge in senate hearings last week that he had relied on common sense of the financial institutions, a somewhat naive position in an environment where common sense was the second casualty of this debacle. The first casualty was that moral fibre that is and must be a prime criterion to decide if a decision is the right thing to do, or the wrong one. There was also a lack of challenging voices, on the edge of reason, asking But Why and not subscribing to the notion that the folks in charge, were the ones with the power.

Where I believe the parallels may be drawn with the bead scene in Austalia is a similar lack of leadership, long term vision, a lack of regulation and standards and doing the Right Thing falling casualty to an intense desire to make dollars. I have been beading for 9 or so years, and have observed a few interesting trends deployed by magazines, show organisers and bead suppliers but also beaders and bead artists. I am passionate about beading, I believe that the bead community plays an important role in innovation, information sharing and keeping the ancient art alive.

There appears to be no code of conduct for publishers and magazines that is derived from a baseline of ethics and integrity. Whilst some magazines are better than others in understanding that artists, suppliers and beaders are important stakeholders, there is a need to give much more thought to intent and execution of intent. If the intent is to make as much money as you can then it is clear that a code of conduct will impede you in that intense desire. If the intent is to be a steward for the art of beading, this needs focus. What have I seen in the last few years:

Magazines that are started up without any expertise in beading, lets be honest about this, one may have experience with selling cars and model planes, but a publisher and editor for a beading magazine needs to have expertise, beading skills, experience and most of all creative passion. Some of the editors are on P plates, and that is okay in the first year, but if this is a consistent observation, there is something that needs to change. Or one ceases to exist.

Artists need to be paid for their projects, a lot of magazines expect you to sign over copyright for IP in contracts that are ill conceived, and at times, make no sense at all. If you pay writers to provide articles, surely, one must pay artists for providing the fuel that keeps your magazine going, or top of mind.

Contributors to magazines are being forced into advertising contracts as a condition of being published and you have to question the ethics of such a condition. Some magazines only publish kits or suppliers projects, this is not creative and not conducive to development of the beading community or the art of beadwork.

Contributors and suppliers are expected to provide goods and services for free on a consistent and continuing basis without any documentation or audit trail. Can you imagine you are a very small business owner, how are you going to support this never ending thirst for goods? How are you going to include it in your BAS or tax statements if there are no audit trails? Who wins out of this?

A creative drought, the same project types and articles appear issue after issue after issue. I am not sure if this is due to the lack of contributors, but if there is no interest from artists to participate, as an editor, one would put strategies in place to improve quality and figure out how to attract top artists and really creative projects right? Why is that not happening? Is the standard we are seeing really the best we can do? I truly hope not. I suspect it is the lack of incentive.

The publishing world is largely self regulated, there are some associations and trade organisations and the codes of conduct they have put in place are largely in regards to advertising. I’ve written several articles both for Australian and international magazines and the lack of respect, compensation and credit from Australian magazines saddens and surprises me. Really, I am sick to death of spending weeks on a project, and not even receiving a thank you or a follow up. I have had enough of being taken for granted, being taken advantage of, or being taken for a ride. That is utter disrespect and I am fed up with it.

R E S P E C T – find out what it means to me. My mother always told me there are a few things you can only loose once – your virginity was included, respect and trust were two other entries on the list of once lost, never regained . Asides from being a basket case, my mother was also very wise in her own special way.

The other area I think we can improve significantly is the bead shows. Shows in the US are well run, both for suppliers, exhibitors, competitions and teachers. Websites and advertising are professional, teachers are recognised as huge magnets for visitors. There are consistent contracts, there is quality that permeates through everything. And again, I suspect it is because a lot of the shows were started by beaders and have a certain level of maturity. I am not saying it is ideal, but there is quality, tangible high standards and professionalism. I have been to a few shows in Australia over the years, and I have taught at a few shows. It is not that difficult to think about standards and exceed them, all it takes is vision and intent. As my mother also said, the devil is in the detail. Communication is paramount, as are policies and the ability for vision to ensure that your show keeps on thriving. Deals with hotels, cross promotion with other crafts, policies around wholesale, policies around teachers awards, advertising that reaches your audience, professional websites, a venue that is central and easy to reach. None of this is rocket science. Is it easy for me to say this – well, I used to do this for a living once upon a time. Not creative shows, but conferences, trade shows and training for an environmental studies organisation in Europe.

I am aware of economic influences, I suspect we all are, but that does not change the need for a solid foundation. The businesses who remain, and thrive, are those with a plan, those with a core, a foundation that is sound and based on policies, integrity and standards. Ask any successful enterprise.

I do not enter into competitions anymore. Not only do I find it difficult to understand how there can be a nice, better, best declaration on artwork (which needs to be seen separate from craftsmanship and skill in technical execution) but if I make the choice to spend creative effort, emotion and funds on a competition piece, I would like that piece to be assessed with an element of open disclosure. I don’t want to see “artists” in a juried competition who are friends of the editor, I want to decide to enter based on the level of expertise in the jury, respected artists who are recognised in their field, and I want that jury to be known up front. I want to see a process, pieces without names being assessed on creative and technical merit, not by who made it. It should not matter whom one has pissed off, whom one is friends or foe with, and what is popular or fits into the sponsor’s frame of reference - it is the piece and the creative skill of the artist that should be at the focus. Many people are so disappointed and almost hurt by competitions and how they are managed. Pieces disappear, are damaged beyond repair, are returned worn, communications from the organisers are sporadic and not well thought through. If I did that where I work, I would be out of a job in no time. There needs to be a recognition of the investment in a competition piece, and unless that changes, don’t expect to see any of my work appear in competitions or juried shows. And yes, I do speak from experience.

I have also noticed that bead community members who ask genuine questions are subject to character assassination and backstabbing. I know it is one of those mythical things in creative circles and the air kissing crowd where gossip, backhanding and unethical sneaky tactics appear to be almost accepted if not expected. Not so much, dude, not acceptable, immature and childish. This is particularly valid when beaders are making choices to copy. I’ve seen works in magazines and in competitions that I recognised from other sources. A competition piece that was a copy of a piece that won Bead Dreams. A tutorial that creates a piece that is a mirror image of an image on the net. I am not saying we don’t all get inspired by what we see, but there is a fine line. There is also a duty of care with the magazines, competition organisers and shows and yet again, it comes back to knowing your community. If you keep up to date on what is going on overseas, you recognise the work as someone else’s.

I wanted to write this for a while, I’ve had a rotten experience with a publishing firm that has an attitude that what they are doing is okay. Heck, a lot of corporations believe that if you manage to keep what you do just above the law it is all acceptable. Ethics, what is that? Respect, what is that? I worked for a company that had us ask ourselves a few questions – Would you want this to happen to your sister, mother? Would you want to see this in the papers? Is it morally above board? If it happened to you, would you feel bad? That should drive decisions and actions, not the almighty dollar. And that is where the comparison with the global market crisis comes from. And the lesson that it will all collapse if it is not based on ethics.

In my opening paragraph, I displayed a reluctance to call it the bead industry. An industry suggests a machine, some sort of distant entity that one has no power over, a creature that imposes its will without any recourse. I do not see this as a valid position, we are a community, each with a role to play and a contribution to make. And in that sense, I believe we do this to eachother. And following from that thought, we can stop doing this to eachother and strengthen the community to the point where it can learn from the Sins of the Past and move on to a brighter future.

For everyone, not just a few who know how to play the system.

Let me make it clear that I ain’t perfect, I am no angel or a righteous zealot. I’ve thought about this a lot, spoken to peers, explored different sides of the coin. So maybe what I think has something to offer. Reject it at will. But this is a blog and as such, I can put my feet on the table.

Fallout

2008-10-21T20:30:00.014+10:30

Recently I was lucky enough to take a few workshops with the pretty special Cynthia Rutledge. 2008 was the first time Cynthia made it to Oz, she conducted workshops in Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia organised by the Bead Society of Victoria. I love doing workshops that challenge me and kick me in a different direction that I usually take. A lot of my peers know my love for organic looking beadwork, I don't really enjoy symmetrical work, I like it when it has a natural touch. A lot of my work is straight from the sea - both in colour and in theme. At times that same ole' groove can limit you somewhat in your creative vision and for that reason, I tend to take workshops from artists and teachers who have a very different approach than mine. That makes us grow, it is also painful but incredibly humbling. Nothing wrong with a touch of hubris once in a while. The workshops had fallout, like a nuclear rain, which affects those who watched it weeks after the mushroom cloud has dissipated. I am suffering from workshop fallout, bead radiation at a level far above what is considered tolerable by human life. For the past few weeks, I have had bead radiation sickness - an obsessive disorder, associcated with new ideas mushroom clouding in my brain.

Cynthia is what I call a bead engineer. Her work is a mix of exquisitely delicate and detailed work, multilayered feats of engineering and mathematics. Ah there, I said the M word. Mathematics. I have a head for languages, writing, but also intuitive art work. I am not very good in figures. Nah, let me rephrase that, I can do it for work, but privately, my lack of sense with dollars and cents is the bane of my love's existence. I don't care about money, it comes in and goes out, who cares where the last cent went when it is gone :). What I saw in Cynthia's work is a very modular approach with geometrical elements being mixed with delicate and organic embellishment. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but guess what. I was tricking at the workshops.

I attended 3 workshops - Tibetan Bangle, Belle Epoque and Garland of Jewelled Links and Chain. All were challenging either due to the mind expansion that was associated with the different techniques, the technical difficulty and well, because learning is hard work. I couldn't stop it, the brain ran ahead. I was full of good intentions to finish the pieces from the workshops, and I will, but the mushroom cloud was stronger. I started the completion process of Garland, as usual, sitting crosslegged on the floor, slowly atrophying my muscles with non stop beading. Then an idea for a piece planted itself firmly in the creative soil called my head and I had to finish that first. I acquired a few Swarovski crystals in a triangular shape some months back, a moment of utter weakness of course cause what do you do with them? The modular approach seemed so appropriate for the angular shape of the triangle. The necklace is created from hexagonal modules learned in the workshop and a pendant based on modular components. I thought it would be a great idea to attach bezelled rivoli's inside the hexagonal beaded shapes and this is what happened. The necklace is called Princessa, I imagine it to be suitable for a Georgina Spencer or other Duchesse of that era.

I am particularly happy with the use of tiny rivoli settings in two hexagons in the necklace part of the piece, and the chinoise looking beaded findings to connect to the other components. I strung 17 seed beads from a bead in the component and created a pagoda looking jumpring by skipping beads in the corners when I passed trough the ring again, that way it is like a semi square ring, with tiny picots in the corners. Try it, it would look great as a necklace link as well.

The other piece I finished recently was based on bits and pieces collected whilst on holiday in Vanuatu recently as well as finds from a haberdashery shop. I wrote about them in White Flag. This is a bracelet that mixes a few techniques in the bezels - peyote, RAW and netting. The use of RAW to start a bezel is a very flexible way of encapsulating odd shaped pieces. The bottom bead of the RAW chain was stitched to the Ultrasude, then a few rows of peyote stitch was started from the top bead and cinched in the sea glass. Remember, this is glass from old coca cola bottles, left in Vanuatu by American troops in WWII.

I am working on a few additional Fallout Pieces, all with a modular, mathematical approach. Once you know how to create a hexagon, you can use a calculator, or pen and paper to engineer other shapes. Including triangle shapes.

If you ever have the chance of taking a class from Cynthia, don't hesitate. A lot of people in Adelaide missed out and miss out they did. You get so much more out of a workshop than technique - fun, confidence and not in the least, an opportunity to share ideas with like minded beaders. The alternative is that you purchase a kit from Cynthia's website, trust me, they are worth every penny! I know what Santa is going to bring me this year.

Fallout, I will get back to that a bit later in the year. The Bead Society is planning more workshops with top artists for 2009, I believe Diane Fitzgerald and Laura McCabe to be in the curriculum for the next few years.

Feet of Clay

2008-09-21T20:41:00.000+09:30

A colleague of mine once said - B, not everyone has your ability for vision. A lot of people find it really difficult to imagine what could be. I don't. I see what could be all the time. Which is why I talk to the trees. Yes indeed. Literally. I speak to their beautiful leaves and their bark and the seed pods. As a kid I was nicknamed streetsweeper (direct translation from Dutch) as I was always looking at the ground, scavenging rocks and twigs. I don't think there was anything particularly artistic about that, I always cringe when I read stories about artists who started by "gathering sand on the beach as a 4 year old". Every child does that, at least when I grew up. We spent a large amount of time by ourselves, outside, in those days it was typical to spend spare time outdoors. I guess I found a great escape in the micro cosmos of nature. I still do. But I am no longer called streetsweeper. At least not to my face :)

Don't get me wrong, like a lot of beaders, I like high end materials. I use crystals, silver, gold and semi precious cabochons in my work. There is something very alluring about the sparkly bits and bobs that you can purchase all over the internet. That is my case for the defendant. My case against is that sometimes these high end materials make it very hard to be creative, I suspect it is too easy to make something spectacular from spending thousands of dollars on materials. And some artists do that for competition pieces, nothing wrong with that at all. What I like is to have feet of clay, to be true to some of the reasons human beings started to adorn themselves 40,000 years ago.

With my work, I want to express what is important to me, what moves me, angers me, and also what I would like to remember. I've workshopped myself through many life events whilst creating a piece, going through the valley of the shadow of death whilst fearing my thoughts and emotions is a great way to create a cathartic piece. I can imagine that is what early humans may have done, express themselves as individuals, appeasing the gods, documenting what they saw and cared to remember. There are archeological theories that a lot of technologies to work ores, stone and glass were invented for the purpose of adornment. What a profound and humbling notion - it means what we create is based on millenia of creativity and spirituality.

It is for that reason I started to make my own components from clay early last year. One of my dreams is to go back to school to do something in ceramics or arts, and I am in no means as skilled and experienced in using porcelain and other clay types as some of the established artists like Melanie Brooks Lucas or Marsha Neal. I have been experimenting with my kiln, an old trusty Ward (South Australian company no longer in existence) and how far I can push it. The clays I use are predominantly earthenware and porcelain, the latter as I have played around with raku firing and porcelain is more resistant to the thermal shock. Some ceramic artists state you cannot fire raku with an electric kiln, but with some thought you can. I learned about this from Sue Ki Wilcox.

The techniques I use are simple, shaping, stamping and moulding. The power is in the glazing for me. I mix oxides in commercially available glazes as I am not knowledgeable enough on mixing dry glazes. I have experimented with big hollow lentil beads drying two halves on golf balls to achieve a dome shape and then slipping the halves together - simple but effective. The results are great, large beads that are still light. The other experiment has been using PMC glaze, firing beads and tiles then painting at least 6 layers of PMC slip and firing again. You can then brush the silver and patina the pieces as you would a metal piece. The focal tile for the piece Legend below was created that way and has a very old feel. The neckpiece is created on a base of RAW trellis and sea star shapes are woven through with ribbon.

There is something quite ancient and soothing about clay. It is from the earth, it is earth. Even when it is still a lump of water and clay I can see what it could be. Maybe I have hands of clay, not feet.

White Flag

2008-09-05T20:21:00.011+09:30

Alright already, I surrender. I surrender.

Have you ever noticed how life can be like quicksand? The more we kick, the deeper and the faster we sink. Darn I hate these moments in life, when I can just hear the Universe laugh out loud, a silent behind the hand guffaw becomes finger pointing and a hearty belly laugh potentially accompanied by a hiccup or two. I try to surrender, honest I do. I try to ask the Universe for what I need, and trust that it will happen. Maybe not the way I want but perhaps the way I need.

I am a notorious kicker, for years I have tried to control aspects of my life I had no control over. I believe this stems from childhood. Picture me on the couch of Sigmund Freud - ja Fraulein Bianka, I belieff zat yur muzzer maight bee ad ze rut of ze problemm. You don't say, Sig. You mean growing up with a manic depressive mother who would turn from creative wonder into destructive monster had an effect on me? And I find it hard to deal with unexpected suprise situations. You don't say!

Anyway, I digress. I do that a lot. This brain meanders in ways I cannot explain. I work for a crust, I mean I have a respectable job ha - in fact, I am pretty good at what I do. Which is IT project management. But I need achievement, I cannot be happy if I cannot create anything, whether that be a piece, or a project plan or a solution to a problem. Lately that has not been easy in my current role. Spring is a new start yes, so I applied for another role a few weeks ago. Had a good feeling but missed out. Only to be offered something a lot more fun by the same company. I surrendered, heck, I sent my thoughts out in the universe, this big expanse of sky that humbles and awes me and trusted that things would work out. I only kicked a little. And so, I wave the white flag. I shall surrender to what shall be shall be a lot more from now on.

To prove a point, I went out for lunch today and sent out a little message to the universe I wanted to find something different. And I did. A handful of bits and bobs in a haberdashery store that would be thrown in the bin by someone who may not see what this could become. I combined it with a few things I had in a jar to be made into something. And I will surrender and make this into something. Give me a few weeks.

There are a few metal and glass buttons, and shells and a wooden snail and a piece of tumbled stone and a piece of sea glass from the beach in Vanuatu, where I was 2 months ago. The sea glass is a piece from a 60 year old coca cola bottle left in Vanuatu by American forces in WWII. I will use it for something, it has been in the water for so long and had rounded corners and a matt soft feel.

Having had my good news today made me feel light and airy. My brain can start to see things again, creative ideas and ways to work them out.

I have also created another knotted bracelet in Cavendoli. This time it is a less natural colour scheme, but has an old fashioned, almost Victorian feel with soft cocao grey and a light teal/turquoise. This came out well, the knotted band enhances the embroidered centre piece perfectly.

Improvisation and Inspiration

2008-08-30T16:21:00.017+09:30

Recently I was asked by a friend to create a few knotted bracelets, Cavendoli knotting and the use of fibre has always been one of my "things" and it was a real delight to be going back to a technique I have always loved. I look at the world differently, I find sea glass and twigs and rocks and things and I can see what they can become. I find it exciting and stimulating to look for bits and use them with my cords and fibres. I have a range of knotting techniques in my arsenal of techniques - from chinese knots to celtic to micro macrame, also known as Cavendoli.

When I was working on my friend's pieces, I decided to experiment with using leather to finish off the cord ends and this is when I did something silly. I cut the wrong ends of the cords off - my brain went nooooooooo, but the hand wielding the scissors was not listening and cut. Snap! There I was, left with a 7 cm piece of knotting and a cm or so of sad looking cord ends sticking out. But at times the universe puts you onto something by accident, divine serendipity. It came to me, I could improvise and use the idea to end the piece with leather to connect two shorter pieces. And voila, it worked out. A combination of simple embroidery with Cavendoli knotted straps. It is worth exploring this a bit more, there are challenges to consider that need a bit more thought, instead of an ill advised snap of the scissors warranting a rescue mission.

Serendipidous. Syzygy. Divine Coincidences. Spiritual Intervention. Sometimes you need to stop looking to see. I've had a prolonged period of inspiration draught, I have felt sucked dry by life and zapped of creative energy. I suspect it was because I was expending a lot on other activities which don't give me the same sense of joy as creating. But there is only so much of life sap and creative juice to go around. To break the spell and regain my inspiration, I decided to return to knotting. Since knotting is as old as humanity and different knots have been developed for specific purposes around the world, there is a large choice of knotting techniques you can use.

Because pieces are created from lengths of cord, there is a challenge to finish the piece such that the cords are hidden away. With Cavendoli knotting, you may start from the centre and work out or start at one end of the piece, connecting to a wire armature or a stone or other starting point. There is not much surface on the back of the piece at times to finish the cords so they do not scratch or make the piece bulky. I have therefore been experimenting with different ways of finishing which combines some of the other beading techniques I use frequently.

Below are a few ways of finishing a neckpiece or bracelet, I do not profess to have "discovered" all of them. Some of these have been used before but they provide a great way of making pieces personal.

Starting the piece from the centre and hiding the cord ends with ribbon crimps. This means you need to taper the piece back to the width of the crimp but works well

Starting the piece from the centre and hiding the cord ends with ultrasuede or leather. This provides a great design feature and a method to attach a clasp like a snap finding or a hook and eye clasp

Creating two halves and finishing the cord ends in the middle with an embroidered centre piece. This is again a great design feature and can greatly enhance the looks you can achieve by using embroidery

Tapering down the cord ends by vertical half hitches around more than one cord, then finishing off with a leather crimp or end cap. I have found this works best for necklaces as the blog image shows but I have used it for bracelets

Starting the piece from a wire armature and finishing in the middle by threading the cord ends through big holed beads from either end, then weaving them into the other side. This can work really well but can also bulk up the piece if you are not careful. I always use nailpolish to seal the ends

There are well described methods such as cutting cords and using heat to seal the ends, or using glue or nail polish. The options I have mentioned above may provide some inspiration to think outside of the box in finishing of knotted pieces. The natural bracelet below with the small mookaite cabochon centre piece is the one that was snipped and started it all. The olive green piece has leather capped ends to hide the cord ends and a beaded centre section.

And to think this all started with an accidental snip. Who knew.

Friends with Blogs - Kerrie Slade

2008-08-23T07:18:00.000+09:30

Next Saturday I am going to a dinner with friends. In itself nothing special, we all do that don't we. There is something special about this dinner, it is the first time we (a group of 8 friends) are having dinner without Ray, who passed away from cancer in March this year. Ray was a special person, a gentlemen man, one of those people who touch you with their non judgmental and easy going nature.

It will also be the first time since Ray's funeral that I see Jill again, Ray's wife. I am not bad with words, but what on earth do you say to a woman who has had to see her beloved husband fade away and leave her due to this horrible disease. I suspect that I do not have to say anything, just be there.

Last year I was involved in the Beaded Link fund raising initiative, where a group of artists collaborated on a wearable art neckpiece which was raffled off at the Bead and Gem show in Sydney. I did a bit of research for an article about the Beaded Link and discovered some really shocking figures. Hundreds of thousands of Australians were diagnosed with cancer in 2006 and that means that all of use are touched by cancer in some form.

The talented UK bead artist and friend, Kerrie Slade, has started a global initiative to raise funds for two international charities. Yes you read that correctly - global. Cancer is a global problem, and the internet makes it possible for us to unite on a global level. It is very exciting and a worthy cause.

Kerrie has designed ribbon pins, patterns can be purchased via Beading Daily and proceeds are donated to several international charities. It is all on Kerrie's blog - http://kerrieslade.blogspot.com/.

The pin designs are below, they are gorgeous and can be made in many colours.

Beading ties us together, creating together is a social fabric, and there is a power in beading together.

Let's use that for good!

There is nothing constant but change

2008-08-19T12:27:00.001+09:30

Change is all around us, we change on a daily basis. We change clothes, partners, jobs - and at times we change lives. Some change is forced upon us, like a tidal wave. Not wanted, not asked for and certainly not desired. As we try to surf the wave, frantically waving our arms and paddling our feet, it is easy not to see the beautiful fish under the water of the wave.

I am one of these people who are constantly moving, my energy is famous, my ability to keep going notorious and my ability to think .00001th of a milisecond after my eyes open has been admired and feared alike. Mostly by me. I am okay with the level of control I have over my life, it is not full control and never will be and I like that. But I am good at ordering, compartmentalising small things and bigger things and placing them somewhere. I work at them, workshop myself through and over obstacles and changes. I've had my share of change...

Big ones. Little ones. But mostly big ones. They make you grow, they also hurt like buggery but they do make you grow. I like shedding, I am a great fan of letting go. How it works for me is that I keep going, keep moving, keep expending energy at ordering and managing and grouping and resolving until a silent restlessness in me turns into a large voice. Oy - are you listening?

Then I stop. And I think for a long time, absorbing and What Iffing. I love What Iffing. It is a great technique to get somewhere, to change. Because when I keep going, and keep moving and keep expending energy at ordering and managing and grouping and resolving - I too, loose sight of the beautiful fish under the wave. Let go of the life raft, let go. Deep breath.

Studio Luna, my website, which has been in existance since 2005, is no longer what I want to do. It became a static place, where nothing much happened, because basically as an artist I had become static. And so it was time to stop. And think for a while. So I What Iffed. What If I close it, what if I don't try anymore, what if I just gave it away, what if - God Forbid - I actually said No for a change. Some of my friends told me they thought it was a bad idea, don't give up, keep going, just do this, don't give in. But I liked the view in my head. Let go of the life raft, let it go. Deep breath.

I love creating, I love what it does, I love what it shares, I love what it builds and I love what it produces. What I don't love are some of the phenomena around it, but I felt I had to participate. And I struggled with that for a long time. And then it hit me. I can decide not to play anymore. And the fish under the wave are becoming clearer. Little changes, little movements. Flashes of silver and gold, and blue and green. I like the view in my head.

I'll be riding the wave for a while. You can stop by once in a blue moon and see what happens. If you want. There is no pressure.

For Sale

1970-01-01T17:37:00.001+09:30

I will offer exclusive items for sale once in a while

Instructions

1970-01-01T14:32:00.002+09:30

Mixed Stitches Elements

Tutorial sheet for mixed stitches elements, can be used for earrings, charms, pendants and bracelet links. The basics are there, you can come up with variations by adding small 3 mm firepolished beads, other rows or different size beads.

Right Click and save to your computer or laptop, you may need to enlarge this on screen.

Contact me should you wish to receive a PDF file of this tutorial.

Gallery

1970-01-01T11:51:00.009+09:30

The work on this page is older work which is an indication of the evolution of techniques and styles I enjoy working with.

Renaissance was adapted from a rivoli bezelling technique and resembles brocade fabrics.

What Lies Beneath was created for a lampwork exhibition in January 2008