Bird and boat.
how you stay afloat.
Boat and bird,
Boat and bird.
and with wings, I’ve heard.
There’s much I could
I could say that birds began to appear in my art in 1998, after a friend died.
They were bird-women, actually. The very first one was a large painting, larger than I’d ever done before, of a flame-like wing and part of the body flying up up up. I called it Passionwing. And it forms part of my ‘This is Not an Angel’ intermittent series of bird-women.
I could say that boats and teacups began appearing in my art around the same time. Small friendly vessels. Containers. The little boats attracted bobbles, sheet music and fringeing.
I could say that after a brief holiday overseas earlier this year, I kind of discovered Australian birds for the first time. I tuned in to their song.
I learned to love the funny old magpie, which I’d been wary of since the days of head-swoopings while walking across the paddock to school.
I could say that
never before have I knowingly painted
a Bird and a Boat
together in one picture.
It’s healthy for me to be simple sometimes. I’m usually so unsimple, so layered, textured, full and fast in my art-making.