Tag Archives: history

Looking at light on form

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Willow charcoal & charcoal pencil, 1996

I went to my first Life Drawing classes aged fourteen with my dad. My brother and sister also attended at various times too. Dad was passionate about art and thought one of his children might catch the bug. However, I was the only one who ended up at art school, where I continued to sketch the figure. It was something I loved doing then, and have continued doing from time to time, ever since.

The above sketch was part of an exhibition of my figure studies completed that year. I hired a model, and worked in a studio above my garage to produce the work. It was great to have a comfy sofa the model could relax in, which resulted in many nice long poses. All the work sold, which was good, but when I realised I wished to keep one (the above image) for myself, on enquiry I found my agent had sold it that very day. Lucky I had taken a photo.

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It all started in Amsterdam

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Amsterdam was where we would join the Viking Sigrun (they call it a ship, not a boat) and the other approximately 179 others who had chosen this trip up the Rhine for a week’s voyage. Kerry and I chose to arrive early in Amsterdam, giving us time to meet friends, and to rid ourselves of jet lag, after our lengthy flights from New Zealand. Over 36 hours should you wonder.

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And wait, there’s more about the first draft!

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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.

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Meeting Barbara at Heide

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Photograph by Jeremy Weihrauch of the new face of the Heide Museum of Modern Art

I was excited when invited to visit an art gallery in Melbourne I had visited before. The Heide Museum of Modern Art specialises in modern art and sculpture, is quite unlike others, and one I never tire of visiting. It is in Bulleen, a suburb of Melbourne, and was established in 1981 by art benefactors John and Sunday Reed. Thanks to their ideas and inspiration, the museum is a superb asset to the city, and sits well with the other, larger art galleries in the city centre. I was especially excited to visit this day, as they were featuring an exhibition of Barbara Hepworth sculpture. Hepworth is a British modernist artist and sculptor (1903-1975). > Barbara Hepworth

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The Upper Hutt Library and me

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The delivery of crated books to the new library, September 1956

Since leaving my last post unfinished, I have been travelling in the South Island, and look forward to sharing those exploits next time. To recap, the last library photo shown was the disassembling of the old upstairs library in September 1956. The image above is the relocation of the new library in the main street: it is this reincarnation I would visit for many years to come.

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Maverick Modigliani

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Amedeo Modigliani

The heading refers to a new documentary on the famous artist Amedeo Modigliani, best known for his lean-faced unpretentious portraits; portraits I have admired, even copied as a student, over the years. I viewed the film a week or so back, and was pleased to be re-acquainted with the man. I knew a lot of his life story, as he has been much written about, and I am lucky to have read many books about him.

The documentary, directed by Valeria Parisi, was released on the 100th anniversary of Modigliani’s death (Jan, 1920).

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This time last year

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This time last year, Kerry and I were in the United Kingdom, catching up with several old colleagues and friends not knowing when we would get the chance to visit again. Little did we know then just how special that trip was to become, with Covid 19 stopping us all in our tracks. One of our stops was Yorkshire, to stay with Wendy and Robin. I’d never been before, and like all regions new to me, I couldn’t wait to get out and explore.

Holywell Green, West Yorkshire

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What a difference a year makes

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The castle and me

This time last year I was in Edinburgh, many months before Corona virus had hit the world stage. It was my first visit, and I had been strangely unaware I would be among thousands of others who had ambushed the city for the Fringe Festival. I was thankful that our friends Mick and Anne only lived a thirty minute walk from the centre, in a lovely, quiet, suburban neighbourhood. We strolled into town past handsome stone buildings on either side; a cobbled street in between – so different from the wooden architecture and asphalt roads I am used to in my New Zealand surroundings.

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If I hadn’t been keeping to my deadline, I would have…

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My sister Kath, Dad and me

I would have written more posts of an arty nature if I hadn’t been so busy keeping to a different kind of writing deadline. For those new to my posts, I began a story about my father a couple of years back and I was never diligent in keeping to the schedules I set myself. Well, finally I decided that enough was enough (see my post, Deadlines, Oct 25th). Yes, it’s true, an amazing thing, for I have been keeping to that self-set deadline, of finishing the draft of a novel by mid-January. I have found the going sluggish at times, not with the writing itself, but with the research and detail I need to keep this story authentic. Continue reading →

From a novel to film to performance

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I read Owls Do Cry by New Zealander Janet Frame (1924-2004) when I was in my twenties. Not that that is remarkable. What is remarkable is her personal story, which translates into fiction through much of her work, and this novel is no exception. The setting is the coastal town of Oamaru where the ‘Withers’ family face many hardships, including money problems, mental health issues, a disabled child, death, and grief. It is a profound book, touching and disturbing, for when Frame writes about ‘Daphne’s’ experiences in psychiatric hospitals, she is speaking of herself. There are passages which float between the lucid and the wild but Janet Frame’s writing carries the reader into these worlds using  unique and brilliant prose. Continue reading →