Living with wings - not wasting a precious moment!
Read MoreCreating Art & Life in the Danger Zone
Creating art and a rich life involves exposing myself to the possibility of experiencing pain and loss as well as joy. Do you construct a fortress to safeguard your heart, or live courageously in the danger zone?
Read MoreA Mysterious Alchemy
When you need comfort and peace, where do you go? What do you do? Painting is my salve...
Read MoreBittersweet Beginnings
Beginnings and especially starting a new painting, are fraught with mixed emotions as explored by Corinne Loxton, Australian landscape artist.
Read MoreThe Roots that Anchor You
Do you understand what inspires you? What are your unique passions and preoccupations? Why do we each have our own? Take me, for example, I know that to be true to myself and live wholeheartedly I need to create art that celebrates my connection with nature. But how did I come to be like this?
I believe that we answer this question by looking beneath the surface and asking ourselves what roots anchor us, connecting us with the source of our unique personal power.
Your true self is like a solid tree trunk, firmly anchored by its roots in soil fertile to nourish you. The branches are the multiple faces you wear, that comprise your rich self; the leaves are your shifting feelings and thoughts, responding to your environment and conditions.
To stay strong, to grow and thrive, you need to care for and protect your roots, honouring them as your lifeline to an authentic life. They delve deeply within the layers of your family, culture and land, allowing you to ground yourself in values, beliefs, language and behaviours.
It was when I learned to acknowledge the rich tapestry of my heritage - all I had grown up with, the roots that sustained me, gave me life, - that I began to understand my own direction.
So if you ever feel like a tree uprooted, disconnected as though drifting in shapeless uncertainty, become a master gardener - feed and nurture yourself, from the roots up.
Braving The Storm
As you may know I have been scouring the coastline of Sydney and braving the afternoon storms in the Blue Mountains to find subjects to paint over the past few months! I am excited to tell you that the result is a never-before exhibited body of plein air paintings which I carefully hung on the walls of the delightful heritage listed Braemar Gallery in Springwood on Monday.
I make this sound so easy and smooth sailing, but the 'hanging day' had moments of anxiety mixed with this gathering excitement.
Can you recall a time when you put your heart and soul into a project? Perhaps you wrote a song, built a piece of furniture or designed a new garden. Then you showed someone your efforts and in the few seconds before they responded, you realised with crystal clarity that by investing your unique talents, energy and perspectives in your project, you'd left yourself wide open, vulnerable to criticism.
And that's all there is to it! There is no fix-it or rescue remedy for enduring this uncomfortable storm. Being creative, investing yourself, is risky. On hanging day, while I was excruciatingly aware of this discomfort twisting like a knot in my stomach, 'I gripped tightly to the gunnel and steered my little vessel onwards!'
I'd love you to come and see this new work. Click here for a sneak preview of the show Of Earth and Air and for further information about the show.
Nature - Beautiful but not Benign
Do you remember the Blue Mountains bush fires of October 2013? As an inhabitant of the vicinity, I witnessed the event unfolding with all its horror and implications. This is a recent painting made in response to that experience. It attempts to engage deliberately with the world’s difficulties.
You don't have to look too far to see that although nature is amazing - beautiful, even exquisite - it can be a force of destruction, suffering and anguish. Tsunamis, bushfires and earth quakes are natural events that shock us out of any delusion that nature is benign. Even a cursory examination of the day's news reveals the complexity of living in a world of paradoxes – of beauty and cruelty, of plenty and famine, of presence and absence.
While my landscape paintings are arguably beautiful, they escape the banality of beauty for it’s own sake. As in my work, you intuitively recognise that nature is not controllable and its beauty is ephemeral.
I feel compelled to make works that invite you to drift within them, potentially experiencing a non-rational space within which to encounter the paradoxes of the human condition; hope and despair, destruction and regeneration, fragility and power.
What do you think? Can a landscape painting be both beautiful and speak about a catastrophic event? I'd love to hear from you - email me with your thoughts here.
Painting in a Landscape of Choice
Do you remember when you were a child, clutching your pocket money in front of the corner store lolly stand? You loved the anticipation of tasting the sweetness, but oh, how difficult it was to choose one lolly over another!
When I spent time painting outdoors last week, I felt that same tension of indecision. The beauty of the landscape around me provided the allure of so many distinct, sweet and exciting flavours I could explore in paint! How could I decide?
As I looked with deep attention at the water cascading over the rocks, as if dancing in the sunlight, part of me longed to spend hours mastering every small detail of that image on canvas. I yearned to be able to capture the appearance of even a small part of our mysterious world, with truthful realism.
Another part of me, however, searched for a different flavour within the glistening, transparent water, shifting clouds and transient light. Rather than paint the appearance of the landscape, I attempted instead to evoke the mysterious and transitory experience of being immersed in my surroundings. As I chose this path over the many others on offer, I felt a profound sense of vulnerability. I was exposed to the risk that I had chosen poorly, that the paintings would not touch you with the same wonder that I felt in the natural world. But ultimately, I stayed my course - navigating the uncertainty of my decision.
Perhaps you can relate to this experience, even if for you it is not with paint on canvas? I'd love you to let me know and also to tell me what you think of the paintings. You'll find them at www.corinneloxton.com.au/plein-air-oil-paintings
Out of the Mouths of 'Babes'
While driving to Art2Muse Gallery on Saturday with my three children, my eldest son (14) asked me, "Mum, what did you say the other day about the number of artists in Australia that make a living from their art?"
I replied "Oh, I was saying that only a very small number of artists in Australia, probably between twenty to forty, make a good living from their art alone. What I mean is, they can take their family on holidays and do the things they want to do in their leisure time, like other families".
He looked thoughtful for a moment and then responded, "That's not many... but there's about to be one more!"
I felt so touched by his confidence in me and the decisions I make daily to pursue art as a career, rather than seeking a waged job that might offer us more financial security. My children understand the dilemma I faced earlier in the year when I was offered a fantastic opportunity to work at a local high school with a very professional staff and highly motivated students. I agonised over whether to hang onto a reliable income or continue to face the uncertainty of casual work and the vagaries of the art market.
The latter won out and I continue to strive towards my dream, motivated in part by the inspiration I hope to be to my precious children - that one day they too will have the courage to face their fears head on and choose to step into the unknown to follow their passions. In the words of Wes Roberts,
"Whether you are old, young or somewhere in between, whether you want to admit it or not, those coming along after us are watching how we dream and what we do with our dreams, and young people are naturally drawn to the older folk who do dare to keep dreaming, seeking us out, watching how we live into and beyond both our failed and successful dreams".
http://sevensentences.com/2015/06/09/keep-chasing-your-dreams/
Gallery of Plein Air Oil Paintings
I am excited to tell you that I have recently posted a new gallery on my website of small plein air oil paintings. They are gestural, impressions of the changing forms, light and colour in the landscape. The immediacy of these works is quite distinct from my more considered handling of paint in the studio paintings. The directness of this method is enthralling, requiring focus and speed. Please let me know what you think...
Marking Subtle Shifts
One of the questions I am often asked is "How does your work change?" This is interesting to address, because I admit that often I am so immersed in my work that I don't notice the subtle shifts that happen over time.
The kind of shifts I am referring to are changes in the predominate palette, the way I apply the paint and construct a composition. When you look at the gallery of images on my website, spanning the last ten years, you will notice that my earlier paintings were more 'empty' - drawing you in with a void-like space that was often indeterminate. The colours were also less naturalistic and the paint was applied in thinner washes and glazes. (See 'In the Wind IV')
The compositional devices I use now create a complex interplay of positive and negative space, with ambiguity still being present within a more structured whole. My mark-making and paint application has evolved too. I now use a combination of transparent washes and dry brushing to create vibration of colour and movement across the images. I apply opaque paint selectively, for areas of luminosity or density and the colours I use are largely determined by the key-note of feeling in the work.
The other major change in my work is the introduction of birds... I wonder what might be next?
Nature, Painting and Spirit...
Following a conversation with a friend last night, I have been thinking about how my spiritual perspective is imbued in my work and whether this is obvious to you, my viewer? (Complex questions for a brief news article!)
Like many artists, I allow my spiritual practice to underpin the images I create and the feelings they evoke. It is not a simple, equation-like formula, but rather a set of subtle relationships that are held in delicate balance. Art that appears to serve a message, whatever the topic, does not interest me, therefore I don't make that kind of work. Instead I choose to make paintings that invite you to engage with my experiences of spirit as you also explore your own.
Nature plays a large role in the 'narratives' explored on my canvases. It is through connecting with nature that I experience spiritual and physical awareness and renewal. The processes and wisdom of nature teach me truths about life, spirit and the human condition. Mary Oliver's poem expresses in words what I cannot:
“There are things you can’t reach. But
You can reach out to them, and all day long.
The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of god.
And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier.
I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.
Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
As though with your arms open.”
With this image of standing with arms open, I invite you into contemplation through my paintings. In them I express what I see when I am "looking" with attention and amazement at the world around me.
How I Learned to be Creative
I'd like to share a story with you about how I learned to live creatively. It begins with my Gran, Camilla, who passed away a few weeks ago. I loved her deeply and without judgement. Her death fills me with sadness and aching loss. This is the risk of loving - the pain of losing. Brene Brown puts it so eloquently: “To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees – these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain.”
It is with profound gratitude that I acknowledge that my Gran taught me to 'see' the natural world with the eyes of an artist. When I was a child we would tramp the clifftop paths of Hermanus together, in the Western Cape of South Africa, studying the minutae and the grandeur of the shorefront. She taught me to breathe deeply the fresh, salty air, to be still and to fill my senses with the sounds, textures, shapes and colours of all that surrounded us. Gran taught me that to live my life fully I need to connect deeply with nature and respond to my impulse to create. She showed me how to use my hands to make, to create things of beauty from the simplest materials - leaves and berries, shells, twine. I learned that beauty can emerge in unexpected places to transform us and the objects themselves.
I said goodbye to my beloved Gran with words of love and thankfulness and as I lean into the sadness and loss now, I experience grace, joy and a renewed commitment to create art that offers you stillness and hope.
Exhibition Approaching - 'Drifting'
The work I make reflects my passions – nature, spirit, mindful presence, connection, exploration, freedom.... The landscapes explore transience and the aesthetic of ‘the drift’ and seek to evoke glimpses of a reality that is ‘beyond knowing’. The images are drawn from encounters with nature – experiences of ‘events’ in the natural world that ground me, but at the same time allow me to drift into unexpected spaces and imaginative possibilities. Photos like the one below provide the initial source material for the studio oil paintings. The finished paintings take on their own unique voice, reflecting the keynote of feeling evoked by the original experience in nature.
You will have the opportunity to see all my recent work and speak to me in person at to my forthcoming exhibition, 'Drifting' at Art2Muse Gallery in Double Bay, Sydney in June. The opening function is 6-8pm, 25 June. The exhibition continues 23 June - 5 July.
'Autumnal Afternoon'
The afternoons have been warm with storm fronts moving in from the south-west. Perfect cloud-painting weather - until the rain strikes of course! I am inspired to keep working directly from the landscape - it is all-consuming, invigorating and exhausting all at once. The immediacy of it leaves no space for anything but the present. Almost like a spiritual practice; it requires total mindful attention and absorption.
This work 'Autumnal Afternoon' will soon be available as a limited edition print.
As autumn arrives I consider what I may experience as I paint in the vast, dry landscape of the desert.