The Boy Bear

I scribbled for a while, trying to work out his shape. His face was kinda sad.The other night I dreamed that I had dreamed of someone else's teddybear. And in the dream I remembered the little pink teddy bear of my childhood. I decided that I should draw my teddybear when I woke up, and honour him with a story in my Sketchbook.

He was pink, with big blue glass eyes, and looked like a jigsaw-puzzle piece. You'd think, being pink, he'd be a she, but he was definitely a boy bear. He had an open, hopeful expression: like he really needed a hug, waiting to be imprinted with my memories. And boy, did I love him!

Polka-Dots & Stripes

Last Thursday I went to the opening of my friend Rapunzel’s exhibition of pastel drawings and paintings, which I very much enjoyed viewing. (I also enjoyed the glass of champagne.) She’s already sold a few pieces – hooray!

Here’s what she says about her work:

“My large pastel drawings and acrylic paintings utilise my distinctive illustrative style, with a more personal theme. The female figures appear caught in a moment of an improvised narrative: I rarely plan my images; rather they evolve as I work.

“Inspirations come from everywhere, but mostly everyday observations, feelings, situations, memories, dreams, songs – or sometimes all those at once. The weather, changing seasons and striped clothing are most always present in my work.”

So true! And she very often wears stripes too, although she was wearing the cutest polka-dot stockings and red shoes on the day. Congrats, Rapunzel!

The exhibition is on at South Yarra Art House until Sunday 5 June.

Coffee-Table Books

Coffee-table books :: Bettie XL // Ina’s 1969 // No flashA snapshot of my most recent book purchases, from the top:

1. Unseen Vogue; bursting with images that didn’t, for various reasons, make the cut into the British edition
2. Lanvin, by Dean L. Merceron; an absolutely breathtaking monograph on the early twentieth century fashion designer Jeanne Lanvin – worth every penny!
3. The Handbag, An illustrated history, by Caroline Cox; a great reference
4. Seduction, A celebration of Sensual Style, by Caroline Cox; the 20s and 30s photographs are particularly lovely
5. A Century of Hats, by Susie Hopkins; another great reference book catering to my obsession (hats, of course, although collecting books is fun too)
6. The Artful Storybook, by Terry Taylor; a book about one of a kind artist-created books in a myriad of formats, which also explains the creation process
7. Russian Textiles, Printed Cloth for the bazaars of Central Asia, by Susan Meller; beautiful images to inspire anyone interested in textiles or pattern design
8. Édouard Boubat, the Monograph; Boubat’s career spanned 50 years, his elegant, poetic black and white photographs sweep one from the everyday life of Paris on a trip to Africa, India, Spain, Portugal, Mexico and Japan 
9. The Snippy World of New Yorker Fashion Artist Michael Roberts; with a short foreword by Tim Blanks, this large format book is chock-a-block with Roberts’ wonderful cut-paper collages and drawings

All these books – with the exception of The Artful Storbyook, bought in Vietnam – were purchased either through Abebooks.com, or in remainders bookstores at very good prices. It goes to prove one can confound the Australian Government’s heavy tax on imported books!

Papîer Machédventure (Part I)

Vintage 1930s Russian theatre mask, sold on Etsy

My little man with a collapsed lower lip and broad fat cheeksOn one of my trawling trips on Etsy I discovered this lovely vintage Russian theatre mask made from papîer-maché. The delicate colours were lovely, and I particularly liked the surprised expression. I decided it would be a good thing to make my own mask from scratch.

By a strange coincidence, my friend Sapphire expressed a desire to do the very same thing, so we planned to embark on this papîer maché adventure together. 

The first step was to create the base of the mask … a hysterically funny process 

The masks’ shapes are quite square before trimmingSince neither of us had done any papîer maché since primary school, we found instructions on About.com. We used a traditional mixture of flour and water – with a bit of salt as preservative thrown in for good measure. Not enough, it transpired later. 

The first step was to create the base of the mask, and this required building on our own faces, a hysterically funny process that had us in fits of suppressed laughter – trying not to destroy the work of course. My mask was a bit funny-looking with his broad cheeks and collapsed lip (the result of an inadvertantly placed finger), I concluded. Although my mask was made on my friend’s face, it fits mine quite nicelyI decided to make a second attempt; was much more methodical, and had a better result for my care. We carefully peeled off the masks, covered them with plastic wrap, and set them aside to dry for several days.

With our masks nicely hardened, it was time to thicken them with several more layers of newspaper. The next step would be to build in some bone structure using papîer maché pulp. But that would wait for next time.

Capturing the Night

The road ~ La routeYears ago, when Rapunzel and I shared a house, I would spend most of my time drawing in the sunroom we called a studio at the back of the house. I worked mostly in pastels: soft pastels, oils, and also compressed charcoal and conté. I particularly loved doing my night drawings: paper so densely covered in black that one could barely make out the scene. It was ‘night’ I was trying to capture.

My then boyfriend suggested I look at the drawings of Georges Seurat (1859-1891). I managed to track down a single paperback book through the Amazon marketplace: The Drawings of Georges Seurat, published by Dover in 1971.

‘The drawings are done not so much for line as for the atmosphere’ – Gustave Kahn

The cat ~ Le chatSeurat is of course famous for his pointillist paintings, particularly his riverbank scene: Sunday Afternoon On The Island Of La Grande Jatte, painted when he was just 26. These drawings are quite different. They are heavy with charcoal applied vigorously to large areas, leaving hints of light along the contours, and revealing his subject lurking in the dim light. ‘The drawings’, Gustave Kahn states in an essay written in 1928, ‘are done not so much for line as for the atmosphere.’

If his paintings capture the sparkling light of the day, his drawings do indeed encapsulate that shifting play of disappearing light at dusk, investing its subject with mystery. 

Wheat and trees ~ Blé et arbresWoman reading ~ Femme lissantAt the ‘Concert Européen’ ~ Au Concert Européen