Painting Trees

Cast paper torsos - one of the last major cast paper works I completed. Exhibited at Fisher Gallery Auckland and Sargent Gallery, Wanganui in the late eighties.

The last time I exhibited any artwork was at the Australian National Library in Canberra in 1986, as part of a New Zealand book arts show.

That was 31 years ago!

Then I switched to a full-time career as a freelance journalist/author and while book arts have continued to be a passion, I've never painted  since the 60 or so solo and group exhibitions I took part in all those years ago.

Now I'm facing down that yawning 31-year gap, wondering how to take the leap from 'art-before' to 'art-now.' As I set up my new studio space, I've felt inadequate, overwhelmed and more than a little bit terrified. I sit before my blank canvases and I wonder what to do.

I wonder if any idea I have, has any merit at all.

I wonder in fact, if I have completely 'lost my touch.'

Eucalyptus bark

So paralysed had I become that I decided to start painting trees - not pictures of trees, trees literally. Real trees. It seemed appropriate given my fascination with Australian eucalyptus, with the vivid colours of the Australian landscape and with Aboriginal art. 

So a few days ago, I dragged a huge 10-foot eucalyptus branch into my studio and I started painting it - totem-like. No plans, no expectations, just the child-like joy of rediscovering colour, pattern and texture in paint.
I  never imagined I would feel the exhilaration of painting again so soon. But it was there, hiding under all the nervous energy, the pathetic inadequacies and the fear of making the wrong brushstrokes. I feel like I have unleashed something that has been dormant for far too long.

I've quickly been seduced by possibilities and in between Australian paperwork, I am continuing to play with paint - to watch, to think, to read. I'm waiting quietly for things to happen in their own time. I'm letting ideas 'incubate.'

I'll stick with painting 'trees' for a bit longer, as I get to know a new medium.
Because, in the mood of the change that has taken me from Canterbury, New Zealand to Victoria, Australia, I have decided to try painting in acrylics. I used to paint in watercolours many moons ago and acrylics don't seem too far removed. There are a lot of technical similarities.
So I'm stacking the odds in my favour.

Yesterday, I spent the day at Mount Alexander Regional Park, near Castlemaine, sitting in complete silence among thousands of eucalyptus trees of all shapes and sizes. As I sat there listening and watching and photographing,  I began to sense the hazy beginnings of a canvas taking shape in my head.

It's elusive still.
Abstract.
One minute quite certain; the next, slipping away, undefined, like a dream you can only half remember.
I have hope.
I feel excited.
And I think I''m going to be okay.

All I really want is to continue to feel enlivened by the whole art-making process.
I want to 'shine a light' on the dark recesses, on my inner thoughts and imaginings.
I want to produce something I am happy with.
That's all.

That 31-year gap still seems unreal in a 'how-did-that-happen' kind of way but I feel certain that eventually I will make the leap to the very different kind of artist/painter that now resides within.
My success or otherwise seems irrelevant at this point.