INTO THE ESCAPE

A series of escape-mind little black-and-white pieces drawn in the style of all-time hero, illustrator and poet Don Blanding. 

WANDERING: NSW SOUTH COAST

I can't resist adding another chapter to my rambling documentation of visits to the NSW South Coast (past instalments are here and here). 

In my mind, the South Coast is a distillation of a lot of the things that make the NSW coast so lovely. It's all these disparate wonders clustered together around a little bay. The beaches are uncorrupted and perfect; with white sand and water running from the brightest turquoise to deep clean blue.

A short drive inland, and you're in the kind of bushland that is just so uniquely Australian that it makes your heart sing for the likes of May Gibbs and Banjo Paterson. Big granite canyons rushing with water, wildflowers winding around every rock and trunk, and the specifically snakey feeling of bush undergrowth in this country. And there's nothing quite like seeing a towering waratah bloom in the wild... Seeing something so spectacular existing so quietly gives it an increased poignancy, a spark struck among the dusty grey-green march of the eucalypts. 

Even the farmland is beautiful, soft green rolls of hills leading out to the sea, the kind that make you want to quit the city and take up dairy farming. At least, for a minute. 

Actually, now that I think about it, every time I visit the South Coast I try to concoct a plan that involves me not heading back to the city. But dairy farming might be a bit out of my expertise sphere, I think...

SKETCHBOOK

This little A5 sketchbook (for those of you who have been asking, I dig these Quill journals from Officeworks: casebound because I hate spiral binding, and 125gsm pages so markers and paint don't bleed) is the most packed sketchbook I've owned in a long time. 

It's full of scraps of paper, little loose drawings, pressed flowers and leaves, stationary samples, stickers, and little reminders of whatever I've been up to lately. And it's crazy crowdedness makes me happy, because it's a very true reflection of my collecting and cluttering and examining and recording. 

It seems like a very honest little book. 

DREAMER

Whether it's grand plans or tiny escapes, strange trips or logical plots, whiskey-driven epiphanies or guitar-stringed revelations... there's something to be said for spiralling down the weird rabbit-hole of dreams. 

Because the people who do -- the dreamers -- are the ones who find a new way to see things, a crazy creative bent that changes the whole mental landscape and, occasionally, the world.

Embrace your inner spacehead dreamer. 

Pony Gold Dreamer tee available here.

DAISY AGE

More and more frequently, I find myself sidetracked by little wonders in places that I had never really explored. They are hidden down overgrown trails, under rocks, behind branches, in the shadowy corners of evening, and in the rippling frontier of ocean. The more I look, of course, the more I see.

And others too, I see them searching for magic in the places we once passed off as commonplace or unexciting or vacant of any of that flash and sparkle we associate with more exotic, far-off lands.

Now we're eking out the time to think how absolutely incredible it is to hold a delicate shell that rode the roughness of the ocean all the way to shore. To inspect the wonder of a finely constructed seedpod: sculptural, alien, and designed to do exactly what it needs to do, perfectly. To watch my dog consider something she cannot fathom: curious and confused, then accepting and content. To glimpse something rare and store that memory, like a smooth riverworn stone, away in your pocket to revisit and relive for years to come. To lie in the grass in the sun, breathing wisteria scented salt air. To be struck by the audacity of a bright bold wildflower, one you’ve only ever seen in books and florists and manicured gardens, growing casually against that dry washed-out bushland, made all the more striking for its completely accidental display. To think of all the billions of butterfly wings, the skeleton leaves, granite boulders, flower petals, rain, heaving seas, semi-precious stones and the curve of bone.

To seek wonder anywhere it might possibly be found.

The Wonder Seeker pin is available here. 

CRYSTAL VISIONS

My step-pop gave me his old Zeiss Ikon camera a few years ago. I still don’t really know how to wrangle it, and I only remember to pull it out every few months to snap a few photos. But every time I get a roll of film processed – shot with this old camera whose former life and travels I can only muse over – I’m reminded that there’s something about analogue that can’t be faked.

It’s the authentic shortcomings, failings and unpredictability, the honest and earnest results of a machine functioning within its limitations, and within my limitations. It’s the quirks and flaws that make a thing indelibly unique.  

And the other thing I really love about this camera is that it channels nostalgia. I don’t really believe that the leaves of my mum’s hydrangea bushes are such a deeply saturated green, or that the skies over North Melbourne are ever that blue. But in my memory, as on film, the colour of flowers against sky is that poignant, the ocean horizon on an overcast day is that desolate, the statues in Japan were that solemn, and my dog is that crazy that she’s often just an out-of-focus blur. 

MAGICAL TRIP

Pony Gold Magical Trip shirt; The 2 Bandits concho wing choker; Red Rabbit turquoise eagle ring;  Pony Gold Wonderseeker pin.

This is the summer sunshine warming your hands; the strongest whiskey raising your soul; a humid night under the stars; the bluebird in your heart; a pressed flower in a sketchbook; conversations in the dark over Pink Floyd and fire sounds; hypercolour hallucinations and cosmic storms in dreams; the buckles on your favourite boots; being saved by rock n’ roll; daisies stolen from the train station; unfamiliar beers in the European sun; a steady hand; and knowing you are never able to see enough, hear enough, know enough to ever cease.

So, why not? Enjoy this weird and magical trip. 

GOODBYE WINTER

Volcom skirt and knit; vintage Harley Davidson boots and shirt. 

The last month of the Melbourne winter is a good time to visit the northern hemisphere. When your resources for dealing with freezing mornings and too-long nights are all but worn through, it's nice to go somewhere warm, humid and wild. Somewhere dense and lush with summer life; somewhere with sunlight so sharp you involuntarily shield your eyes; somewhere very far away from the memory of toes aching in your boots and ice sparkling on the train-station wheelie bins. 

So when I return from the northern hemisphere this weekend, I'm hoping that winter will be gone.  Hoping that Melbourne will be changing into more agreeable garb: something patched together out of daylight savings, weekend camping escapes, afternoon beers in the sun, and rambling walks with the dog. And I'll be hoping that it's time to put away the coats and jumpers and start cutting the sleeves off my shirts and the legs off my jeans... well, maybe in a couple of months. 

 

 

SYDNEY: LET'S HANG OUT!

This afternoon I’m flying up to Sydney for a crazy couple of days of all-girl art madness… The above photos give a sneaky little peek into what I’ve been working on over the past few weeks in preparation for this weekend.

The Curvy Creative Conference opens at Ambush Gallery with an exhibition on Thursday evening, and we’re following it up with a panel/workshop/hang out at the Volcom School of Cool on Friday. I’ll be answering questions on the panel (scary!) alongside some hugely successful creatives from a whole bunch of different fields: typographer Gemma O’Brien, Volcom creative director Kimberley Reynolds, tattoo artist Lauren Winzer, Ainsley Hutchence from Sticks and Stones Agency, just to name a few… Then Gemma will be hosting a typography workshop, and I’ll be working on a denim jacket painting.

Unfortunately, I can’t hang around for day two of the Curvy conference (I’m heading to Japan!), but there’s amazingly talented creative geniuses speaking on both days, so it’s definitely worth checking out if you’re in the area.

More info here. 

SKETCHBOOK: LIVE FREE

Lately I've been working on some out-of-the-ordinary creations: gluing thousands of beads to skulls, filling mini-bar bottles with flowers and resin, sticking little glittery jewels on the inside of abalone shells... Creations that might be an attempt to communicate magic; to share the way some things resonate and hum; to make literal the special significance that embellishes every day objects when seen through my eyes. 

So, with my brain three-quarters consumed with thoughts about the realities of magic, here's what's left: some colourful pages in my sketchbooks, and some half-hatched ideas for the upcoming Curvy exhibition in Sydney later this week.  It's going to be pretty awesome, so if you're in Sydney, come along to aMBUSH Gallery on Thursday night!

I'm also part of the Volcom School of Cool panel and workshops on Friday – which is day one of the Curvy Conference – where a whole bunch of talented women will talk about their work and careers. After the panel discussion, I'll be painting up a denim jacket while Gemma O'Brien runs a short typography workshop. So much fun stuff happening this week!

 

WANDERING: CAPE SCHANCK

We left home in the dark, driving south down the peninsula with only a rough idea of where we might go. The world turned dusky and grey around us while we drove, the day starting to seep in along tree tops and horizon edges. We stopped in an empty car park, then set off down a track, down some stairs. More colours steadily leeched in with the daylight.

And just as we headed around into a little cove, the sun broke over the distant headlands, throwing all it's flashy, fluorescent colours up onto the low clouds. Celebratory colours because it wasn't raining, because we weren't it the city, weren't at work, stuck in traffic or on commuter trains full of sad suits. Celebratory colours because we were somewhere alone, quiet, empty. Not sharing space with strangers. Or with concrete and plastic and mechanical sounds.

Just us and the big ocean. 

Just us and a little window on the quiet wild world. 

SKETCHBOOK: WAITING FOR WEIRDNESS

I'm trying to wrap my little brain around a whole bunch of exciting things that are on the horizon... events and travel and making things and moving around; there's lots to look forward to. So, while I'm in this little pre-fun-storm lull, I'm trying to crank out as much preparation as possible for what's to come... I'm going to be super primed and ready for whatever weirdness comes along next. At least, that's what I like to tell myself. 

WONDER SEEKER

A little 70s-inspired matte-finish enamel pin, for those who know the world is full of wonder, and seek to see it all. As Tom Robbins said: well, some people do hide and others seek. 

Available here.

The full wisdom from Robbins (Still Life with Woodpecker): 
“How can one person be more real than any other? Well, some people do hide and others seek. Maybe those who are in hiding - escaping encounters, avoiding surprises, protecting their property, ignoring their fantasies, restricting their feelings, sitting out the pan pipe hootchy-kootch of experience - maybe those people, people who won't talk to rednecks, or if they're rednecks won't talk to intellectuals, people who're afraid to get their shoes muddy or their noses wet, afraid to eat what they crave, afraid to drink Mexican water, afraid to bet a long shot to win, afraid to hitchhike, jaywalk, honky-tonk, cogitate, osculate, levitate, rock it, bop it, sock it, or bark at the moon, maybe such people are simply inauthentic, and maybe the jacklet humanist who says differently is due to have his tongue fried on the hot slabs of Liar's Hell. Some folks hide, and some folks seek, and seeking, when it's mindless, neurotic, desperate, or pusillanimous can be a form of hiding. But there are folks who want to know and aren't afraid to look and won't turn tail should they find it - and if they never do, they'll have a good time anyway because nothing, neither the terrible truth nor the absence of it, is going to cheat them out of one honest breath of Earth's sweet gas.”

BOTANICA

Agave colours that are literally succulent; a velvet pastel that slakes thirst and invites touch. Crushed dew-wet roses that sing 90s-era grunge songs. Palm fronds in the tropical glasshouse that are heavy with mojito sweat. Flowers that don frivolous shades of pink and purple and white to represent different stages of dying. Rich ferns by the pond with diamond light caught in the fronds.  


All photos from the Melbourne Royal Botanic Garden.