British Sculptor, Laura Ellen Bacon‘s otherworldly sculptures.
The exquisite mind and craftsmanship of Rowan Mersh.
Alexander Calder’s Connecticut studio.
Yuko Nishimura‘s beautiful paper sculptures.
Bold and bizarre forms from German ceramic artist, Monika Debus.
British artist Victor Pasmore at work.
Meela Jaarsman is known for creating wearable shelters from the most unusual materials. Imagine a cocoon, a “security blanket” made from the skins of frogs, squirrels and snakes, or the bark of banana trees. The Netherlands born artist has lived in Yogyakarta for many years and is inspired by Indonesian culture and the social, political issues that exist within her chosen home. These garments represents protection, and a yearning for security in the face of fear. I find the one below, made entirely of urchin shells, quite poignant. The shells once offered protection to the urchins they homed. Eventually, their squishy insides were eaten or washed away, and the spines dissolved into the sea, leaving a beautiful shell behind. The shells appear fragile, but in fact, their shape and construction make them quite durable.
I came across the work of Brazilian modernist artist, Amadeo Luciano Lorenzato, better known as Lorenzato, and I fell in love with his childlike compositions and gorgeous use of colour. With no formal training, Lorenzato’s paintings possess a rawness and simplicity that we often see among unschooled artists. ““He doesn’t belong to cliques,” wrote Lorenzato on the reverse side of an untitled painting in 1948. “He paints what he feels like painting. Amen.”
“If people don’t like my house, then I don’t like them,” says Australian artist, Greg Irvine of his fantastically cluttered Melbourne home. Imagine walls of mismatched vintage plates, tortoise shell combs, teapots, scent bottles, books, biscuits tins and bangles. The house is a feast for the eyes, as colourful and detailed as Irvine’s large scale paintings. “I have to be surrounded by beautiful things,” he says. Antiques of all kinds appeal to his eclectic taste, and fabrics, collected over time, weave their way into his paintings. Have a walk around; fellow collectors will no doubt swoon. And those who don’t? Well you won’t be invited back.
Since I can remember I’ve worn my hair in a large, messy bun atop my head. It’s why I grow my hair long. No matter what state it’s in, or I’m in for that matter, the top knot makes me feel pulled together and ready to face the music. The irony is that there’s nothing tidy or pulled together about my hair, but somehow the top knot makes me feel both those things. And then today, with the same obsessive zeal I brought to finding booster shots in December, I called half a dozen Florida hair salons to find a stylist that would cut my hair. We’ll be home in a day or two, I could have waited. Only I couldn’t wait. Today was the day. “Cut it short enough that I can’t put it up,” is what is I said to Shane as I plonked myself into her swivelling chair. It occurred to me as I watched her sun-drenched face sink to the floor, that when a stranger walks in and asks for ten inches of hair to be cut from her head a stylist might feel a degree of pressure or concern. “Don’t look so worried,” I reassured. “I want to do this.” Less than ten minutes later, I had a bob, not so dissimilar to the one I had when I was two and wore velvet dresses and blouses with frilly collars. I think I also had this same style in the late 90s when I was growing out my one attempt at a Mia Farrow pixie cut. We all convince ourselves that something, in this case, a hairstyle, makes us feel more pulled together and in control, when in fact we’re actually boxed in by it. My top knot, like a heavy crown, had started to weigh me down. The urge to chop it off was visceral. I’m not sure that I like this bob, and I certainly don’t feel pulled together, but maybe that’s the point. Shane, who’s in her early 60s and has a Southern lilt and platinum hair to her waist, seemed to like the cut. “Now honey, do you own a roller brush? Mousse? Any product at all? That’s okay. Let the cut do the work.”
I’ve been wanting to experiment with papier–mâché vases, and these ones made by Jacqueline de la Fuente offer much inspiration. De la Fuente uses chicken wire to sculpt her whimsical forms and then creates a clay paste from discarded cereal boxes, egg cartons, and paper mixed with flour, adhesive and a small amount of joint compound. The environment, and minimizing her family’s waste are key to her practice. “I like the idea that these materials go through less of a process than normal recycling. Very little energy apart from my own is used to turn waste paper into a new aesthetic.” Her vases are colourful and eccentric, and while they can’t contain water, there are so many creative uses for them. This latticed one is a favourite of mine; it looks like it could have been woven from yarn.
Sometime in the depths of December, I realized that I need to explore other mediums. I love clay, and while I know that it will always be a place to which I return, I am yearning for creative experiences that aren’t so laborious. I want to try my hand at papier–mâché, collage and drawing with my eyes closed. I want to play with ink and finger paints. For every 2021 triumph, there were many, many heartbreaks, and no less love, energy and time went into the latter. At the end of the year, the largest bowl I’ve ever made went to dear friends who wanted it despite a seismic crack through its base. That was gratifying. But so many other pieces never made it to the second firing, or when they did, came out looking dishearteningly shit. I’ll continue to work with clay –– it has so much yet to teach me –– while taking time each day to make something quickly and without much thought. I’ve been sketching almost daily with my seven-year-old daughter and most of the time it’s hard to decipher which drawing is hers and which is mine. I’d say that’s a compliment to us both. I’m not quite ready to show them to you, but watch this space. In the meantime, here are some beautiful crayon scribbles by artist, Jane Davies.
Beautiful, exuberant and bizarre, Severine Gallardo‘s headpieces are topping my wish list for 2022. The French fibre artist attributes her love of textiles to both her grandmothers who felted, embroidered and knitted throughout her childhood. Folk art, the art of Africa and Oceania and artist, Sonia Delaunay are all inspirations. They really are wonderful. Now the question is, to wear, to display, or both?
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