Kalk Bay

A magnificent winter's day in one of my favorite places on earth truly delivered. Company, food, rainbows, a harbor that seems to be almost lost in time and light and colours so intense one couldn't help but take notice.

I shall have to return, but for now it is on to the next adventure.

Beautiful Land.

There is nothing like a road trip through a landscape one has known since birth when one has lived far away for two decades. Everything is deeply familiar, yet at the same time fresh and new. South Africa's fields and farms are the first source of my inspiration and what inspires me in other landscapes has roots very often right here. Wintery light right now means intense colour, green grasses and flowering succulents not seen in the dry months of summer. I sit in the passenger seat, eyes (and iPhone) glued to the passing landscape. Familiar imagery and new inspiration. Such a beautiful land. I look forward to getting back in to my studio to see where this takes me.

Painting Days

Having painted lots of blues and greys all winter, my palette seems unable to do anything right now but reflect the brilliance outside my studio. Pinks, yellows, greens and blues all have all moved to front and center. No longer are these brilliant tones a splash of colour to accent a more muted piece, they are currently the stars of the show.

The series I am currently working on is simply called "Colour Series". It is a body of work I began, having realized that all I want to explore right now is colour in all it's nuances, tones and relationships. The best thing to do in these situations is to dive right in and revel in the options, so I am.

Yellow has alway been a hard colour for me to work with, I have never found yellows to be a colour that took up large space on my canvases. Finally I am finding  a place for it - mostly lemony, green hued yellows, but yellows nonetheless in all their wonder. Bearing in mind the previous post, it doesn't take much to see the beginnings of my new enthusiasm for yellow.

Pink is a colour that has suffered great overuse and abuse, but is a true color of Spring and appears in nature with such magnificence that I cannot leave it out. Pink walks a line between the tepid pinks of pastels and the deep magenta-hues of the Peonies that have just bloomed in my garden. I love to give pink it's due and let it stand for all things deeply feminine and strong.

Green, like yellow is a color I have danced around a bit and never really explored. Now that it is spring, how can I not draw inspiration from the insanely grassy-green grass and brilliant yellow-green tips on the trees outside my window? As a result, there is lots of green being mixed on my palette.

There is of course always blue on my palette, it is the color that speaks to me most truly. I am adding bits of brilliance and hints of grey to my blues, so that they can best off-set the brilliance elsewhere.

As the days heat up and we head towards summer with the hills around us turning dusty and yellow, will my colors reflect not only summer's brilliance but also the dried-earth ochre and yellowing grass of my days? I look forward to finding out...

Goldsworthy, Rothko and a Farmer on a winter's drive.

A recent drive through wine country had me stopping me in my tracks. I drove past fields in which I thought Andy Goldsworthy had been set loose. Piles of black wood were perfectly heaped in fields of brilliant yellow. Fields of 3D Rothkos. It was stark, yet lush and so insanely stunning. I was observing the work of a farmer and mother nature, not some  handsomely paid commission.

Dead and dormant vines surrounded by fields of  yellow mustard grass flowers. The contrasts of black versus brilliant yellow, carefully tended vines versus wild growth, life versus death all demanded stopping and taking in all I could learn from it. I took photos, did some sketching and a body of work is mulling. 

Thankyou.

Studio visit

I am part of a creative collaboration of sorts that involves a number of my favorite things. It started with soup delivered to my door each wednesday and now involves beautiful cottons, great design and traditional, sustainable ways to take plastic out of our lives.

The soup began as a side project by a chef passionate about local, sustainable and seasonable food. His soups are incredible and a complete treat to find waiting for us each week. Last week Soup2U and I visited the studio of Ambatalia to see what they were up to.

The studio is a dream of a space in the way that all artists studios are -  the chaos of the creative process mixed up with the simple aesthetic of their designs and products. Around us were the raw materials (beautiful natural fabrics), some finished products (aprons, bags, Furoshikis) and in between were sources of inspiration. It was a treat to enter someone else's creative space and find myself inspired by it.

First Rains

Yesterday saw our first big rains after many months of dry and brought an end to our languid summer. I am always amused to hear people say that those if us living without blizzards and snow "don't have seasons".  What they don't know, is that we have very clear seasons and they are all about water. Our summers don't bring rain. Where I live we have months of intense dry, followed by heavy and equally intense rains.

There is something amazing about rain when ones air has been dry for as long as ours has been. The air is sweet with moisture, dust clouds settle and the grass turns a shade greener almost instantaneously. Layers of dust gets washed off of everything, even stones on the trails reveal the greens and deep reds no longer covered by the orange of our dust. Once the rain gets going, it can rain for days and weeks without end. Basements flood, rivers threaten to burst their banks and mountain bikers ride down my street a uniform mud-brown from head to spoke. Reservoirs fill and overflow to the sea and the snow-pack in the Sierra Mountains rises, as rain for us means snow up there. Rain ensures our survival come summer and there is something deeply ingrained in us to respond to it's arrival with joy, so we do.

Yesterday evening, I ran outside with my iphone to try and record something of the falling rain's sweetness. Rain drops nestled in Rose petals on the pathway and Anemones glowed in the increasing darkness, small droplets weighing down their petals.

Fall is here and with is has come the rain, at last.

bikkies and tea

Afternoon tea in our home is a pretty sacred ritual and happens in some form without fail. It involves a cup of Earl Grey Tea (me), builders tea (my husband), juice for the kids and always a bikkie. Yesterday the bikkie options were fairly minimalist (McVities Digestives). That was fine for me, but it wasn't going to fly with the most junior member of the family.

His solution in these moments is pretty inspired - take 2 Digestive bikkies, spread Nutella on one and then sandwich them together. A most excellent afternoon tea.