Painting an egg to see what hatches

 HATCHING

Hatching oil on canvas 84 cm x 184 cm 

Laid perfect, smooth, fragile, mysterious, the immaculate egg is torn apart in a second birth and a new being emerges. This creature has some arrangement of feathers, skin, carapace, scales, legs, wings, fins, beak, teeth, mandibles, eyes, gills or pretty much anything else you can imagine. And that's just an ordinary egg. Once you get into its symbolic meaning you find everything from the creation of the Cosmos to a losing score in tennis.

If you are looking for symbolism there is plenty here – birds as messengers, embodied souls of the dead, symbols of light, peace, freedom and joy. An owl or two for darkness and wisdom. Ducks and chickens for domesticity and happiness. And, of course, the two famous questions: Why did the chicken cross the road? Why is a raven like a writing desk?

You may or may not find answers in this exhibition, but you will find plenty of eggs and poultry. And the odd – very odd – Raven.

Welcome to the world of bewildered Robot and encouraging Raven, reconstituted Thylacine, the terrifying Catcher, and a host of minor characters absorbed in their own esoteric activities and rituals. Animals and birds as beloved pet, exploited automaton, learned guide, fantasy companion. Watching over all is the enigmatic White Bird, which has appeared in several paintings in the past and will turn up again because I like it.

Help me explore the relationship between people and animals in a peculiar world that almost looks familiar, where the boundaries between animal, mineral and vegetable blur. A world of infinite potential where wonderful things could happen and meaning is whatever you make it.

On With The Show    oil on canvas 50 cm x 60 cm

Morning at the Dog Park    oil on canvas 61 cm x 75 cm

Off to the Races    oil on canvas 61 cm x 92 cm 

Pink Dress and Pussycat    oil on canvas board 50 cm x 60 cm

Catching the Egg    oil on canvas 102 cm x 66 cm 

Gift    oil on canvas 50 cm x 60 cm

Heggler    oil on canvas 61 cm x 45 cm

Fledglings    oil on canvas oil on canvas 50 cm x 60 cm

Ritual Birdbath     oil on canvas 75 cm x 60 cm 

Chickens in a Taxi    oil on canvas 122 cm x 91 cm 

Stone Chickens  oil on canvas  60 cm x 50 cm

Personally, the symbolism I'm going for here is creation, rebirth, optimism and joy. 

Why I painted the Yellow Vase

One of the questions I am most frequently asked is “where do you get your ideas?” This is not always easy to answer as there are so many reasons to make a painting. Sometimes I hear a chance phrase in a conversation or on the radio that sounds like a good title. Other times I decide, for whatever reason, that I’d really like to paint a specific subject. And sometimes I have a blank canvas – and a mind to match. 

When that happens, I remember the advice I used to give my painting students: “Look out the window”. This was one of those occasions. Here is the view from my studio window. I should have washed the window before I took the photo.

My father used to hoard stuff; there is a lot more of it lying around than is obvious here. 

I began blocking out a design, and once I started putting paint on canvas ideas began to form.

I decided I wanted a sense of space and distance and I needed some figures. The blue thing on top of the pile of rusting junk is an industrial-size light shade from some long-forgotten factory, so a slightly differently shaped light shade and a splash of blue got into the picture. Some bright yellow was needed to provide a point of contrast, then it was a case of adjusting shapes and colours until I was happy with the way they worked together. And quite a long time later this was the result.

Yellow Vase  oil on canvas 84 cm x 84 cm completed 20 October 2023

This afternoon I delivered it to Nolan Art Gallery in the Salamanca Arts Centre, where you can see it for the next month or so.

WHALES AND ORCHIDS

 Recently I posted a photo of the first stages of a new painting on Facebook, and several people asked me to show them the step-by-step process from there to a finished painting. This was a bit of a challenge, as I am usually reluctant to show people work in progress, but I agreed. Here is the history of a painting, in ten steps.

Beginning

I wanted to practise painting rocks, so hiked in to Handsome Cave to get some ideas and inspiration.

I spent about an hour sitting and studying these rock formations while I ate my lunch, and by the time I had reached my car for the drive home had a very clear visual image of the shape I wanted for a new painting.

Here it is the beginning; some basic shapes on which I could build - something!

Some more work, adding colours where the design suggested. I'm not thinking about objects at this stage, just putting down a pattern of colours and shapes

Finding objects

Two new words: pareidolia and mimetolithic.   The first is the human propensity to find patterns in random shapes, for example, pictures in the clouds.  Mimetolithic patterns are formed by weathered, broken and eroded rocks whose shapes lend themselves to this by suggesting interesting things. 

In nature, we most frequently find faces. If you look the right way at the photographs I took at Handsome Cave you might find some.

Pareidolia comes into play at this stage of  painting, when I look at what I have on the canvas and begin to find patterns and shapes that I can emphasise and develop. Like this.

Adding more stuff

A landscape is beginning to appear, and it needs figures in it. This is not some arcane aesthetic decree; it's just the way I like to paint. Off I go to rummage in my toybox for a suitable doll to use as a model, and that's when I find out what the painting will be about. 

There are always half-formed notions lurking in corners waiting to be discovered, and every so often two or three fuse into an interesting idea. This happens now. Along with a couple of useful dolls I find a yellow plastic whale. Recently somebody returning from their holiday remarked they saw lots of "flowering orchids and whales". Jokes were made (mostly by me) about flowering whales and somebody else suggested that might be a suitable subject for a painting. So this happens.

Now I have to construct the picture around it. The whale  turns into a rock formation and I sketch in a cluster of rock orchids growing from it. A second figure balances the composition, but then the egg-shape at the top looks odd.  I quite liked it, but it has to go. Similarly, the green bushes on the left were only intended as a "placeholder" until I decide what would finally fill the spot. In fact, I'm not sure what to put in a lot of places.

Homework

At this point things get serious. I spend three days reading about Tasmanian orchids and drawing diagrams of them, while sketching ideas that might or might not solve the problems. Then back into the studio. None of the ideas for the left hand side work so I end up with something completely different, but the rest of the plans look good.

After that, it is just a matter of putting everything in place then fine-tuning and adjusting details until I've absolutely had enough of it. 

The Big Finish

This is the result. 

Whales and Orchids, oil on canvas, 61 cm x 91 cm

FLOCK an exhibition about animals

FLOCK is a joint exhibition of painting, sculpture and ceramics by Elizabeth Barsham, Betty Nolan and Rebecca Watson, three artists who love animals, opening on Friday 7th October, 2022 at Nolan Gallery, Level 1, Salamanca Arts Centre, Hobart. 

 Animals, or animal-like figures, frequently appear in my work, but I seldom paint pictures specifically about animals. 

When invited to exhibit in this show I was busy painting rocks and exploring industrial archaeology, but I did a painting of a unicorn especially. Then I managed to insert some teddy bears, sea monsters, birds, odd zoomorphic creatures and a stuffed elephant into the other pieces I was doing. 

 Here are the eight paintings I have finished. I'm working on another one with a wombat in it, but might not have it ready in time, so don't hold your breath. I'm sorry if you were expecting puppies and kittens.

Waiting for Instructions 61 cm x 91 cm

At the beginning of this year things seemed confusing and uncertain, what with a lingering pandemic, threats of war, family issues and all the other stuff that was going on. I rather wished there were some wise person who could tell us all what to do next. I feel this way at the beginning of most years and as usual there didn't seem to be any divine guidance forthcoming, so I did a painting instead.

Childhood Dream 82 cm x 66 cm

An adventure in ambiguous architecture. Toys for young and old and an infinite city.

Serenading a Unicorn 61 cm x 76 cm

Betty Nolan has been making gorgeous ceramic horses, and some of them turned into unicorns. I like unicorns, so I painted a few of my own. The Lady in whose lap the Unicorn should be resting its head has been upstaged by a crowd of unruly "musicians". She's not quite sure what to do about it.

Nesting Season 61 cm x 46 cm

There are striated pardelotes nesting under the roof of my studio, as happens about this time every year. It's a rowdy business building nests and raising chicks and they make a lot of noise. Meanwhile, fairy wrens are building their nests in the next-door shed where chicken wire across all the openings ensures they are safe from larger birds. I am not lonely!

Little Friends 30 cm x 61 cm

A happy little dream image, which may be the precursor to a larger painting. Meanwhile, think lollypops and sugar.

Hunting the Wild Agapanthus 84 cm x 91 cm

Agapanthus grow everywhere around my studio. I believe they are classed as weeds, and I would prefer native plants. But I enjoyed painting the flowers.

Conversation with a Pink Elephant 45 cm x 35 cm

A still-life study I did as a painting exercise. What more can I say?

Baby Kraken 45 cm x 61 cm

I found a rather boring picture painted about ten years ago abandoned in the back of my store-room. Added the Kraken, a definite improvement. Probably my favourite painting of all of these.

All these paintings are in oil on stretched canvas. If you are interested in any of them, contact Betty Nolan at Nolan Gallery, Space 109, Salamanca Arts Centre, 77 Salamanca Place, Hobart 

Phone: (03) 6223 3449 Mobile: 0438 446 785 

https://www.nolanart.com.au/

Gallery hours: Mon - Fri 10 am - 6 pm; Sat 10 am - 4 pm; Sun 12 pm - 4 pm

Pink Flowers

a recent painting, now off to its new owner

When you venture into a Tasmanian forest you discover an intricacy of fungi, fern, lichen and moss, of strange little spiders, grubs and insects, of creatures avian and amphibious. Pause and watch them living their complicated lives around rocks, rivulets and rotting wood in an intriguing, interconnected wonderland. So much to keep you fascinated!

Pink Flowers oil on canvas, 84 cm x 97 cm

This is one of many paintings celebrating the intersection between flora and fauna in which I begin by painting some big, basic shapes to establish a pictorial scaffold. Then I grow the details over it, like buds opening on winter branches, green moss cushioning a delicate bone, the patterns of weathered rocks, networks of lichen lace draped over naked twigs; all these natural shapes begin to furnish and inhabit the space. Before long, they take on a life of their own and become a fantasy landscape, lush in colour, an improbable biology of anthropomorphic beasts and peripatetic vegetation.

The line

When fishes flew, and forests walked, and figs grew upon thorn . . .

repeated again and again in my head while I painted Pink Flowers and might go some way to explain it. I’m sorry about the unimaginative title, but I did put a bit of creativity into making the picture.

HAUNTED LANDSCAPE

Haunted Landscape is a carefully selected collection of paintings about landscape, memory, and the passage of time. These paintings were exhibited at Nolan Art Gallery in Salamanca Place, Hobart, between 21 July and 14 August 2018. You do not have to agree with my commentary; bring your own experiences and interpretations, but above all, don't take them too seriously. Relax and enjoy!

Following the Van - 66 cm x 112 cm oil on canvas

FOLLOWING THE VAN

Is that an actual mountain? Somebody asked. I had to say “no – I made it up”.

I spend a lot of time walking in landscape, looking at landscape, and occasionally recording a piece of its history, often illustrated with photographs I have taken.

The infinite variety of shapes, texture and colour in the Tasmanian bush provides me with endless inspiration, but when it comes to painting I am not interested in recording an accurate image of a specific feature. My paintings are about ideas. Landscapes provide the stage and help set the mood of the picture and I adjust and modify them freely to fit my needs, working from memory but occasionally referring to a photograph for an odd detail.

The people I walk with are never as strange as these, and so far the landscape has never been so desolate. The caravan has moved on, and the stragglers are left behind.

McCrae's Hill - 91 cm x 76 cm oil on canvas

McCRAE'S HILL

In the early nineteenth century Mr McCrae and his wife took up land near the foot of the Western Tiers. They built a standard Georgian farmhouse; the front rooms red brick; the back, over the brick-lined cellars, were timber. Perhaps the intention was to rebuild in brick once land was cleared and money came in from crops and livestock.

Decades passed. Properties changed hands, new roads were formed. McCrae's Hill, a low rise surrounded by swamp, was marooned far from commonly travelled paths. In the twentieth century the old house was abandoned in favour of a new home convenient to the road. Now great trees that once shaded a colonial garden lie rotting across the path. The head of a broken windmill hangs upside down over a rusty tank. Timbers have rotted away. There are gaping holes in the wall where bricks have crumbled, floors and staircase are treacherous, the stone lintel fallen onto the steps below. Nature, season by season, reclaims its own.

Among The Fallen - 66 cm x 97 cm oil on canvas

AMONG THE FALLEN

There is a historic cemetery in Richmond, behind Australia's oldest church. Below it flows the Coal River, where a platypus may occasionally be glimpsed at sunset.

My friend and I walked, after a scenic drive and cream tea, among the crooked headstones, reading names of other people's ancestors. The hill is steep, the grass was wet, and my friend slipped and fell. It was not a serious fall, but she has back trouble and was in a lot of pain. It was a few moments before she let me help her up, and we made jokes about fallen women. She wore a pale coloured coat; I was in my customary black. By the time we reached home all these images had begun to form a picture, and this is what it became. We didn't see a platypus that day, but I thought a thylacine was more appropriate. After all, we didn't see one of them, either.

Settlement Day - 66 cm x 97 cm oil on canvas

SETTLEMENT DAY

The idea for this painting fermented in the back of my mind for many years, bubbling to the surface now and then, until I decided it was probably ready. A lot of preparatory drawings were rejected or, in some cases, re-purposed to appear in other paintings.

Tasmanians are regularly reminded that we are descended from invaders who stole the land; in fact, you'd be hard-pressed to find a country anywhere that hadn't, at some time, suffered an invasion. Here is a happy farm in a pretty valley, loosely based on a property I visited on the Clyde River near Hollow Tree. A dark force is approaching; this does not augur well.

I particularly enjoyed painting the sheep. Sheep are cute, warm, woolly, slightly demented (by human standards) and incredibly useful. They have completely changed the landscape, nibbling vegetation to its roots, compacting the soil and churning up mud with their sharp little hooves. Native bushland is turned into pasture to accommodate them. Some people call this deplorable environmental damage. Other people call it economic development. Anyway, here they are, a vital component of rural industry or ravenous little beasts intent on destruction.

The phrase “settlement day” has at least three different meanings – invasion, retribution or debt collection. Take your pick. If you think of another one, let me know.

Laughing Girl - 76 cm x 61 cm oil on canvas

LAUGHING GIRL

This is a painting “of” three figures based on an old family photograph, and a distinctive feature on the Clyde River near Hollow Tree, but that is not what it is “about”.

It is about landscape and the memory of people who have passed through it. As future becomes present and fades into yesterday, only memories remain. A thousand generations have left their memories on this country; I am qualified to address only those arriving since the end of the eighteenth century. The characters in my paintings are no more sad, happy, benign or malicious than people you meet every day, nor are they lost souls. They are part of the land and its history.

Bones of the Ancestors - 76 cm x 152 cm oil on canvas

BONES OF THE ANCESTORS

Everywhere we go, we find traces of people who went before us. “Bones” in this context include any skeletal structure, be it metal, masonry or timber. Anything that endures after the soft bits are gone. I have even extended it to include earthworks, ruined forests and colonial history. That might be stretching it a bit, but it's my painting and I make the rules.

Wherever you get interesting ruins (and a successful marketing strategy) you get tourists as well. I have painted about them in the past, and will have more to say in future paintings.

A Child's Guide to Wilderness - 84 cm x 91 cm oil on canvas

CHILD'S GUIDE TO WILDERNESS

This painting is about the present, and more easily explained in dot points. Interpret them as you will.

• we live in an increasingly urban environment and many people rarely experience bushland or natural places. They run on treadmills, climb indoor walls and inhabit virtual landscapes where they can farm or fight as they please
• nature has become a theme park, where the wealthy go to play on their holidays while David Attenborough shows the pretty bits to people who can't afford holidays
• “wilderness” is a modern construct; there is no such thing as a pristine landscape, especially in Australia where it has been carefully managed for thousands of years. “Wild” simply means “neglected”
• we are increasingly spreading plastic and other pollutants all over the country and ocean, to the detriment of the non-human people trying to share the natural world with us
• does it matter?