Diary Of An Artist In A New World

I Love How The Rain Turns The City Into Visual Art

 

 The walk from the studio down William Street to the city CBD is one I love at any time, but I especially love it in the rain. Tonight the rain was teeming down. There was no wind, and the rain was the sort of warmish rain that is the best. The rain was streaming past the streetlights. That is a special delight seeing the rainwater turned into a stream of cascading jewels as if it is a sparkling carnival necklace draped around the lights. 

As I walked past the Cathedral the bells were peeling and that itself gained a surreal quality as deep chimes of the big bells danced it time with the rhythmic plittering and plattering of rain in the street. Even the cars join into the chorus as the normal car sounds are modified by the swishes and sloshes of the wheels in the river of water on the road surface.

 

 

 

Ultimately, however, the greatest joy is the colors and the lights reflected from the sidewalks and street surfaces that turn the normal street view into a work of impressionistic art. Everything looks so different. The night rain increases the contrasts so there are more darks and grays so that the colors of tail lights and traffic lights increase in intensity and then are doubled as reflections mirror an up world with a matching down world.

I hear people complain about the rain and I wonder why. Can they not see the mysterious poetry that envelops the skyscrapers in the rain, the change that overtakes them as their tops disappear into the low cloud and they become like trunks of trees in a gray forest holding the sky up. Do they not see the softening of the world that occurs like some giant Pissarro had taken his paint brush to the city.

I think it is beautiful and I love rain so much I wish it rained like this often enough to satisfy the poet in my heart. Where I grew up in North Queensland in the rainforest near Ravenshoe it rained on average 120 days a year. That is one day in three and I never tired of the misty beauty that would come into the mountains and valleys and all the inevitable results like all the waterfalls, and the emerald green color of the grass and the way everything always had a luxuriant feeling of growth. Rain in the city has a different feel to in the rainforest and is much more about light and colors. It is a creator of a different kind of magic, and I love it just as much or more. 

It Takes A Long Time To Get Back To Normal

I don't think anyone is the same after something like the loss of their father. When he died I was stunned. It felt like I had been hit over the head with a piece of 4x2 timber. That shock takes a long time to subside and probably never goes away completely. I still think of Don as the man with all the advice. His stories are alive in me and I find myself retelling things he said and did as if he was still around. Is it wrong or strange to mention him as if he is still here and use the present tense? It is not as if I cannot let him go, it is more that the emotion in the first couple of years is still raw and the wound still healing and I like to protect his memory as something hugely valuable that will always loom large in my heart. He didn't want to die, and I didn't want to loose him but dreadful as this part of life is, it is unavoidable as is the time necessary to recover.

Getting back to my diary I realize how long it has been since I was last making posts. It is not that nothing important has happened - on the contrary, it has been a momentous year with events that have been life changing. In particular Elizabeth coming into my life and to a lesser extent creating a large painting for a new Music Center in Poland. I would have liked for my father to see both but that wasn't to be. With such emotional events there is plenty to talk about but sometimes the feeling for a certain privacy prevails and consequently my diary has languished, and feelings have been shared only within my close circle.

I can understand why just with typing these few words. Emotion is welling up inside me and I am experiencing that horrible feeling in the stomach and I feel the weight on my shoulder. I think those who find it easiest to just cry their feelings out might reach a point sooner where they no longer need to cry. Maybe not. I do know that being a man is a double edged sword at a time like this. We do find in ourselves the strength to be a rock and carry on through the sea of emotions, but in our strength we sometimes cannot just cry into the wind like we really should do.

It is also easier for those who believe in after life's in a literal sense. Sure I believe in a metaphorical living on of his spirit. Every time I think of him for example he is alive in me but that is very different to some invisible metaphysical being with thoughts and feelings that lives in some spiritual realm and continues on as if it was Don living in a community of similar ethereal beings or metaphysical souls that are conscious and can live forever or return to earth in another form. People who really believe those sort of things feel less loss and maybe even a kind of celebration that their loved one is in a better place and they too have less fear of their own death. Unfortunately a true skeptic requires quantifiable and verifiable evidence when figuring out the workings of the universe around us and in light of the lack of evidence of the existence of a metaphysical world or we have to face the bleak prospect that death is a very final thing. My father didn't believe there is any life after passing from this one and I cannot disagree with him. Unfortunately that finality is hard to deal with sometimes.

Apart from the loss of life, death also takes with it the sharing of future things. My father would have thought the Polish painting that I would be doing the following year was just another waste of time as he saw all art in those terms, but Elizabeth he would have loved and welcomed as a long lost daughter. I think both of them would have found it difficult not to like each other. When death takes someone in the family it takes so many opportunities too.

So now life has changed and it is time to do normal things like make posts in my diary and other web sites. So much of my web world had become neglected during the last year or two and this last month I have been updating existing sites, creating new Facebook and Twitter pages, and created a brand new web site for the sketch club. Practical considerations meant that the need for survival dictated more practical sites got the attention first, but now my diary is open for my musings again. It is another milestone in the process of getting back to normal and writing these very emotional words an important part of the healing process. Another part is admitting that I miss him a great deal.

In Memory Of My Father

My father passed away last night. It is very hard for me to say much right now. He was my hero - the one whom I wanted to be proud of what I do. We shared a very close connection which grew stronger in recent years. It is a loss unlike any other - devastating, confusing, unbelievable. I feel it in my gut as much as my heart. His integrity, and single minded devotion to his family is inspiration to me and his example something to live up to.

As I am a visual sort of person I will just let these few photographs tell a more powerful story than my words about a very special man.

 

This is the view that Don loved. Every day it was different as the season and weather and time of day repainted this scene with ever changing beautiful color and light. He loved the country and this was the view from his window.

 

He loved his garden. He had 5 acres under cultivated garden that was a constant delight with beautiful flowers and trees. It is full of turns with vistas in which trees frame distant hills and special plants are featured and every part had an individual personality and places for contemplation that suit every kind of mood.

 

Don bred rare and extraordinary parrots. He was very proud of the fact that there were certain parrots for which he was the first person to breed them. I was there the last time he was able to feed them on his own and I remember his joy when he discovered that amongst a clutch of four newly hatched chicks from a pair of Yellow Princesses there was a white one which is rare and he was able to account for it due to the genetic lineage of the two yellows that he had bred in a particular way.

He loved his birds and they loved him, many of them fighting to gain favored position of standing on his head when he was in the aviaries. They all have names and I know that particular favorites like Kell will be missing him deeply just like the rest of the family.

 

Here is a good shot of Don with three of his sons - Kerry on the left and Larry on the other side of me in blue. This was Christmas 2004. We were having a good time.

 

This is later the same night. Tracy and Robyn managed to get there. They had such a long way to come it is extra special that they could get there. My mother, Jacqueline in in the center and Donna is behind Kerry. We are a close family and at the end Don was able to feel the love of his family and he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had done the right thing by all of us while he was able. Family was everything to him.

 

That is my Dad with me. I adored my Dad and he was so proud of his first born. It seems like a long time ago and yet such a short time ago.

 

Right to the end his first and last thoughts were always for Jackie and looking after her. Their wedding anniversary was just a few weeks ago and on the day before I was talking to him and he said "we have been married for 56 years and I still love her. Silly, isn't it?" They were both fortunate to find the perfect partner in each other all those years ago and it is a mark of Don's character that so long as he could talk his wishes were for Jackie's well being.

Human beings of the quality of Don Johansen are not so common. It is my honor and privilege to have known him, to bear his name, and to have loved him. Rest in peace my beautiful father. I love you Dad. 



 

Walking With Surreal Horses, Leaves, And Rain

I love rain. It is a wonderful warm experience to wake up with heavy rain on the roof. It starts as a sound as if a distant part of a dream and then the realization that the wet is outside and the sheets are dry causes a womb-like feeling of protection and safety. It doesn't happen very often so it is a mixture of familiarity with unreality.

Later I had to go to Macquarie Street to take photos to upgrade a website. On the way back I saw dozens of Sacred Ibis digging worms in the park. Photographing them lead to photographing reflections on the path and then to leaves and then to two leaves that seemed to interact with the lights and darks on the wet path in an extraordinarily beautiful way. I couldn't stop. Well, I could, but only after around 300 photos and the battery was getting low. I loved those leaves.

Walking further I discovered blue shed like constructions around two large equestrian bronze sculptures. A Japanese/German artist, Tatzu Nishi has enclosed Gilbert Bayes bronzes so that they now appear to be inside a room. My favorite is the one in the photo that looks like the horse and rider are stepping onto a bed. I know that it is a rather fashionable idea to dress up someone else's artwork to give a new appreciation from a new perspective, but this was a particularly good version of that genre. Like the rain on the roof it had a delicious unreality about it, as if it was a Magritte painting that had just come to life.

Organ And Choir Music At St Mary's Cathedral College

St Mary's Cathedral is an important part of my life. Its beauty and elegance have always inspired me and now that my boys are attending or have graduated from the Cathedral College my appreciation of this special place has multiplied. Over the years an extraordinary set of memories has revolved around the wondrousness of how choral and organ music rise up and fill that great space.

Gian Graduates From The Cathedral College

On October 1st and 2nd my son Gian graduated from the Cathedral College and was awarded with a medal for coming first in software design and development. Graduation ceremonies are conducted over two days starting with services in the Cathedral. The next day starts with a Graduation Breakfast followed by the Graduation Dinner during which Academic and Service Awards are made for outstanding achievement. Parents attend the Cathedral service and the Graduation Dinner. 

The Cathedral College is located in the heart of Sydney CBD and is attached to St Mary's Cathedral with its graceful spires rising impressively above the piazza below and to the sides are Hyde Park and The Domain. Cathedral College has a remarkable reputation for academic achievement that is second to none. Music of the highest standards possible is its hallmark. The Cathedral Choir was founded in 1818 and is the oldest musical institution in the country. The beauty of the music performed by the boys of the College is evident throughout the video. When the first classes were held here in 1824 those first few students would not have been able to imagine the rich and proud educational history that they pioneered nor the spectacular graduation ceremonies for so many Cathedral boys 185 years later.

I used the iPhone to produce about four hours of raw footage of the events and then cut it down to two nine minute videos for upload to YouTube so Gian has them as an ongoing memory of this important part of his life. There is a particular poignancy about doing the videos for shortly after the graduation I received news that my father is seriously ill. I went to Queensland to see him and did the editing while there so that I could show them to my father and he could share in the pride of his grandson's achievement. He appreciated being able to see how Gian has become a confident young man making the transition to adulthood.

This video is part one and shows highlights from the ceremonies inside the Cathedral. This includes the graduates procession into the Cathedral, presentation of the graduates to the congregation, mass, the presentation of school emblems to the next years class, headmaster's address, the procession out of the Cathedral, and photos from outside.

Appreciating The Ability To Paint: Viktor Lyapkalo

A friend of mine, a former student and a very talented painter, Ryan Daffurn has recently been in Russia and sent me a link to the work of a Russian artist he rather admired. His exact words were "there are painters, then there are painters!". I have to agree, this guy can paint - his tone, observation, color are all superb. His subjects are very simple - mostly busty nudes, and they often display a bit of humor. 

I have heard some people describe his work as "its only illustration" as if that makes it somewhat unworthy to be taken seriously. I have heard the same thing said of the work of John Singer Sargent and if more people in the Anglo Saxon world knew of Joaquín Sorolla (a Spanish painter I admire and a contemporary of Sargent) I am sure I would hear the similar comments.

I never have figured out what the great difference is between us visual artists, illustrators, designers, photographers, cinematographers, musicians etc is. We are all artists. It is true that some have a particularly beautiful heart or poetic vision that we might find easier to relate to than with some other artist, and there are some who have better skills than others. In most of the arts great skill is regarded as fundamental. The more skillful a guitarist is the more we clap and cheer. It could be argued that the greater the skills, the easier it is for an artist to convey the feelings and thoughts behind the performance.

Dust Storm In Sydney

This morning the dawn didn't happen as usual instead the whole sky gained an eerie orange red glow. I went downstairs to dump garbage and it looked magnificent so I just pulled the iPhone out and started taking photographs. 173 photos and 2 hours later I am back at the studio needing sleep but also wanting to get a couple of the photographs on the web.

The cause is a dust storm. They are rare in Sydney but apparently high western winds that are starting to hit the city were very strong yesterday out west and we have the result. It is strong in the lungs - I wouldn't want to be an asthmatic out in this but it does make some beautiful visual effects in the city.

Discovering The Protective Instinct As A Dad

Tonight as is usual on a Saturday night I went to get my boys for the night. Leif was working but Pablo was on his way and I went down to Woolloomooloo to get Gian, Ashton, and Anton. Thats them in a photograph I took while walking with them. As we reached William Street a drunk woman was fighting with her boyfriend and screaming abuse at him. Every second word was a swear word. He walked across the street through the moving cars and sensibly disappeared from view but she kept screaming abuse after he was gone and so I told her to stop swearing in front of the children. She objected to that and I was the focus of her abuse then but at least she crossed the road and I hoped that was the end of it.

I kept my eye on her as we too needed to cross. As we walked across she decided to come back enraged and attacked Gian in the middle of the street. There is no obvious reason for her going for him. I was the only one who had said anything to her and then it was only the not swearing in front of children comment. She was clearly not behaving rationally. She only managed to kick Gian but she was surprised at the speed with which I sprang at her. She managed to duck and ran and I fell to the road surface but was quickly up and after her and she fell to the ground on the footpath. I never touched her but I was full of rage and told her with my fists clenched in front of her face never to touch my kids ever again. I turned away dismissively and she fled.

Just then the police arrived. Fortunately they had been driving up William Street and had seen what went on. They took my details and Gian's as well and asked if we would make a statement if necessary when they caught up with the woman. They indicated that she is well known to them.

It was just a few seconds of drama. Gian was fine (I lost a little skin from my knee when I fell) but it is amazing how we can spring instantly into action to protect our loved ones and when our kids are threatened we can become like a tiger. At times like that there is no time to think just a necessity to act. I think my boys were surprised by my reaction and speed in the situation but I think they feel very safe and protected whenever we are out in the world and maybe now they know why. 

Photographs At Broadway

I went to the shopping center on Broadway for some RCA plugs and walking back took about 80 shots on the iPhone, mostly of the old brewery site which is in the process of redevelopment and other subjects along Broadway. I love that area for taking photographs but the old brewery half demolished as it is is particularly attractive. I know most people see such industrial urbanscapes as an eyesore but I love it - to me it is like a dystopian monster in a moonscape and I love that sort of thing. To me it is pregnant with the poetry of the city. By being so empty now it is as if it is full of ghosts of stories and speaks more of people now than when it was a busy working factory such a short time ago. I have intended for photography and painting for quite some time. 

It is a huge site but now it is largely leveled dirt with the core of the complex and the old chimney eerily alone in the center. It reminds me of Hopper. Hopper never actually painted scenes quite like this - it is a subject more typical of George Bellows, but the feeling of the emptiness in the midst of the city, that is pure Hopper. 

The second photo is actually off the brewery site on the other side of Broadway. I loved the scraggly old tree hanging on for life with just a few lonely leaves among the upper branches and twiggy bits. Of course we all know that as new apartments get built that the city council in its infinite aesthetic wisdom will see such a tree as a blight and replace it with something "pretty" and new with lots of leaves - a botanic version of the cult of youth. I must be one of the odd ones because I see such things as this tenacious old tree as pure beauty, but then, I am just an artist - what would I know about beauty?

On Being A Digital Artist & The Lamborghini Miura

A lot of people seem to struggle with understanding what it means to be a digital artist. Sure they know that we work on the computer but apart from that they just don't understand. For people like that traditional media like paper and charcoal and oil paint and canvas are "real art" and everything else isn't quite the same. They are right you know - it isn't the same, and if anything, I look back at my time painting with paint as being a bit limited.

Lost Year: August 2008 - Falling In Love With The iPhone

Anyone who has never owned an iPhone thinks that they are merely a cool looking phone and so wonder what all the fuss is about but those who have made the leap into the iPhone world know what I mean when I start talking about the iPhone in affectionate terms. Most people soon discover that the phone functions of the iPhone are actually only a small part of using this device because it is the ease of use of the software and the apps that make this mini-computer such a delight and the most useful mobile phone in existence.

Here is a link to an Apple ad for students which gives just an inkling of what is possible:

Apple ad for iPhone for students

For an artist (especially painters and musicians) it is an amazing creative tool. It is great for sketching, and all sorts of other creative note taking. I have come to love the ability to record lines and phrases for poems in the middle of the night when the ideas come to me. I usually do that by using voice recording. I have other ideas and email them to myself. I can draw, edit photographs, create digital artworks, read from a book, check Facebook, IM a friend, watch some video, do a crossword or a jigsaw puzzle, or just listen to a podcast.

Mel's Drawing Holiday In Europe

Mel Freedman has been coming to my sketch club for more than 10 years. He is from Glasgow and his happy Glaswegian accent and his passion for drawing are well known in the studio. This year he did the big tour of Europe and naturally did lots of drawing while there. He was happy to let me video him showing the art class his drawings from the trip and afterwards I asked him a few questions about his artistic adventures and why he draws so much. This is the result.

iPhone Artist Tips - My 5th Video on YouTube Now

This video was a lot of fun to make. It may have a practical purpose but I am pleased with it for the way it ended up. It is also amazing to upload and see how quickly it finds an audience. It might not be as large as the big hits on YouTube but the steady stream of viewers is very gratifying. It is part of the deal of being an artist to to interact with an audience and as much as these videos are very humble they are a growing resource for my students and others interested in art. I am reminded daily of the democratization of culture due to the internet and the way it enables an artist to communicate directly with an audience. It is wonderful thing and is fundamentally changing the definition of what being an artist means.

Lost Year: August 2008 - Paula Left

It is now 13 months since Paula moved into her own place. We had not been happy as a couple for quite some time although we retained a close family sort of relationship and are still good and mutually supportive friends. Even though it was appropriate for her to go any separation inevitably is a painful pulling apart of the wiring between 2 people. We had been together for 8 years and that is plenty of time for lots of ties. It is also a case that the simpler rejection emotions on the surface tend to obscure the deeper and more complex feelings and it takes time to deal with all that. I certainly could not have written these words a year ago while things were fresh but it is time to acknowledge what happened.