The Charles St Studio, New Farm
I moved into a fantastic, inexpensive flat in Charles St, New Farm at the beginning of 2003 and stayed there for a couple of very productive years. I made large-scale paintings exploring sleep, consciousness and mythology, and became involved in an exciting project with a newly formed group of classical musicians who wanted to ‘collude’ with other artists and art forms.
Painting at the Charles St Studio in 2003, it was one of my favourite studios, and in the heart of New Farm, Brisbane, which was lovely as well.
Eye of Persephone — acrylic on canvas, 120 x 120 cm, 2003
Seeing through dreams, the subconscious and the underworld — myth as a way of seeing the interior life.
Shown is the initial sketch and the finished painting
Night Journey — acrylic on canvas, 180 x 180 cm, 2003
The travels in sleep. How do we journey, where do we go? Do we always come back?
Shown is the initial sketch and the finished painting
Omphalos — acrylic on canvas, 120 x 120 cm, 2003
More work inspired by James Joyce's Ulysses. The whirlpool of creation...
The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one.
James Joyce
Into Sleep — acrylic on canvas, 650 × 1800mm, 2003
A friend gave me some beautiful, purple Zinnias which reminded me of the flower Puck was sent to find in ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream'
Persephone — acrylic on canvas, 1300 × 1800mm, 2003
The descent into the underworld — myth as a way of seeing the interior life
And if I close my eyes... (sleep may come) — acrylic on canvas, 1000 × 650mm, 2003
Emerging — acrylic on canvases and frame, 270 x 150 cm, 2003
Waking — acrylic on canvas, 1500 × 900mm, 2003
The threshold between sleep and the world returning — a painting that knows which side it is on
‘Fluid’ was a fantastic project. Collusions was a classical music ensemble that always sought to ‘collude’ with another art form. In this instance, we worked together over three concerts. During the performances, I painted a 2 x 3 metre painting, and at the conclusion of the third concert I invited the musicians, and then the audience, to come and take home one of the many small panels that made up the work. Like the memory of music, you can never keep the whole of it, just fragments.
I didn't keep any of the panels, as the work is always in my head, but I do get the pleasure of visiting various pieces with friends who collected them on the night.
In my Bardon studio in 2001, one of the several places I lived and worked while it was waiting to be demolished. During it's last party, I did have to make sure that people were fairly evenly distributed around the place, as it would lurch and lean throughout the night...
