I am an artist and writer. I have been an an art teacher and as an illustrator of children's books. I love writing, whether fiction or non-fiction, and have written many short stories. I am also a keen reader and write book reviews, among other art related articles on my blog site – viviennelingard.net
I sat down to begin a pencil sketch this morning, but was diverted by some cloud drawings I found in the sketch pad, so … I decided to put these together for this week’s post. Just a brief description of the mediums used, and not so much of a story this time. The top six sketches are from the Devonport area near my home, the seventh sketched on Waiheke Island, and the eighth done in Port Douglas Australia.
I usually sketch out the scene quickly, returning to fill out detail. I so love sketching clouds.
It certainly can. Last Friday I joined my daughter Lara on a road trip from Auckland through to Wellington. It was so good to be away from the city and the cars that crowd our highways as we drove the back routes with few people on the roads. We skirted Hamilton, past Waitomo and onto Tauramunui, the weather truly perfect for this special ride. We stopped often to take photos of the countryside.
A view of Mt Ruapehu (my photo)
Lara had hinted at a stop-over a day or two earlier, but kept it a surprise. She kept me guessing the destination all the way, hinting at Raglan at one point, where I’d thought, ‘nice, haven’t been there for a while,’ and then past Otorohanga, where we’d both seen Kiwi some years ago. But no. We pulled over for lunch, and filled up the car, and turned back to join the Forgotten Highway, a place now popular with sporty types who like to go biking in forest terrain. There’s a railroad alongside the road which runs trips for tourists using rail carts. The long road stretches between Tauramunui and New Plymouth and takes in hilltop views and ocean vistas amongst its many splendours.
A recent photo of Oriental Bay, Wellington [photo V. Lingard]
Yes, the first draft is done, and now sits with the reader, though I would like to add a little more about what went into reaching that goal. Writers will know that it isn’t just a matter of coming up with a great idea and sitting at the computer and let the words fill the pages, easy peasy. There is the matter of plotting, and making a loose timeline. For me the setting was 1970s Wellington and the years my protagonist lived there. I sketch this out by hand rather than type it up, and mark where I think specific scenes, or events may occur. What was happening during those years? Research next, to top up my memory of these times. So much goes into this, for example: what movies were shown, what music was played, who was prime minister, what sports were popular, what programmes ran on the radio? You get the idea.
There is a reason I haven’t been churning out any posts recently, and it’s because I’ve been focussed on finishing my novel. It’s been a long road, sometimes smooth, often bumpy, as I squinted at my computer screen and squeezed out the words. How lovely it must be to write some people have said to me, and it is, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great creative thing to be making up a long piece of fiction. But it is hard work. I think I summed it up when my granddaughter gasped when I told her how long it had taken. I said, “I guess it’s a little like homework, it needs plotting, planning, and a lot of patience to work it all out.” My manuscript is not huge at 74,000, though enough I think, since it’s taken me two and a half years of my life to produce it.
The first day, did not start well, when we realised the rental firm where our vehicle was located was a long way from where we were staying. Family were busy, so an Uber was called, and we set off through the morning traffic. We will certainly study the map more throughly next time before booking. Nice driver, but hates Melbourne traffic. It was to be our first taste of this phenomenon, as we had never driven in Melbourne before and we would soon be amid the crush. Navigation set up, and co-navigator (me), whose job it was to read screen and report to driver. Anyway, we made it out of the city, (phew) and onto the much lauded Great Ocean Road! Ye ha!
It was a busy couple weeks in Australia; a miscellany of many things, starting in Melbourne. We looked after our granddaughters for a few days; busy times indeed working around their activities. We visited the National Art Gallery to see the Triennial exhibition; a host of fabulous contemporary art. NaniViv (as I’m called), was travel-worn and hot, but the girls not. I suggested afternoon tea, and they suggested the city centre. We did both. It was fun trying on clothes at Cotton On, and buying a top each. Though they were extra excited when I suggested shoe shopping, having just lost a heel off mine at the gallery. Next came groceries, and the need for fruit ‘straps’ for a secret treat they wished to make for dessert. They had no idea these would harden on contact with the ice cream and cause a spectacular dripping.
There is a new baby arriving any day soon, a great-grandson no less! With the baby being Australian, I immediately thought, ah ha! I’ll knit him a toy from my Australian knitted toys pattern book. It’s true, I do have such a book, and I found the perfect animal to knit. As an experienced knitter, and having made other toys from this book, I assumed it would come easy to me. However…
Mimesis is a word I’ll never forget, as it was written in capital letters on a whiteboard in blue, as the subject of my first ever writing class at university. I sat in the auditorium waiting for the lecturer to appear, wondering what on earth I was doing there, as I was a ‘mature’ student and didn’t have a clue what the word meant. I think after all these years I have got a handle on its meaning. It iswhen life is mimicked through Art and Literature. Yesterday I reversed this process, when my life happened to imitate literature – through inadvertently copying a character’s behaviour from the novel I am currently writing. The problem might be different: solo travel for my character, and swimming alone, for me, but the underpinning for both women is anxiety, and the desire to change.
If I hadn’t admired a friend’s post last week, where he posted a fine painting of flowers, I may not have thought of writing about the painting I have sitting on my study wall. There is a history to this painting of pink roses in an old-fashioned vase (circa late 1940s), which was possibly done as a study from an image in a book, or calendar. The book may have well been a ‘how to paint’ variety, showing step by step processes. My father clearly studiously emulated the image – whatever its provenance. The sketch, painted in watercolour on a primed piece of cardboard, was admired by those who saw it, including myself and siblings. I was a teen when my father died, and any art of his carries special meaning.
Just two nights back, this was the view from our windows which look onto the sea, Auckland’s CBD and further west, where sunsets like to glow and sink into night. But before they do, they offer some stunning colour arrays, which have me squealing to Kerry, ‘Look at the sky, look at the sky!’ And he often follows me onto the patio to take photos. But this one, on the 28 December – WOW!
ARTISTRY 