I have been fortunate enough to have engaged in two very different dialogues yesterday. One was with a high end art dealer and the other was in response to my reading a book by Adam Phillips, entitled 'Missing Out" , so this dialogue was ostensibly with myself. However, both encounters presented new and challenging information. The dealer was responding to my request to meet with him, to see if I could talk with him. I hadn't shared with him what exactly I wanted to talk to him about, but he assumed that I was asking for him to consider my work for representation. That was never my intention actually, I was aware of the style of work he sold and knew mine would not meet his criteria. I asked him eventually, since he was so insistent that my work wasn't for him, Why? Why wasn't my work to his liking? He said it was too naive, not edgy enough, too easy on the eye. Not complex enough. I found this interesting, because it calls into question what one considers complex, edgy. Is it the technique or the concept/idea behind the work. And why is so much work that is in high end galleries, so obscure. Is good Art supposed to be hard to understand or does it mean I am not in the same league, I just don't get it. Adam Phillips* spoke about the need for people to feel they "Get It"., that they are not missing out, but are in the know. This plays a significant role in our feeling included, socially recognised, not on the outer. If the audience cannot work out or get what the artist wants or needs from them, and that may well be the point, even the artist herself may not know, it could be because it is deliberately obscure, perhaps because the artist is looking to cultivate a group where only a few 'get my work'. And this is where either getting it or not getting it, or if the audience is prevented from getting it, something else comes into play. Groups of people tend to be defined or define themselves by the things they all get. Art that is hard to 'get' is championed in a world of neurosis, of 'masks' and 'wanna be's. With 'secret' work, the signal is "I know there must be something to 'get' here, it must be important because it is shown within the framework of the exalted gallery, and if I own it, then people will think I 'get it". That I have access to this secret knowledge." On examining my own work then, in light of reading this chapter, made me think that by my creating work that people 'get', they are subconsciously concerned that what they 'relate' to, is somehow too revealing about their inner selves. By my expressing 'anxieties', human vulnerabilities, yes people get it, but its too bare. Naive art is easy to 'read', no challenge there, and the more elite and expensive a work of art is in our contemporary world, the more of a challenge to 'read' it, it must 'appear' to be.

Could it be that my paintings are just too colourful? This strikes me as peculiar, but after an interesting discussion with someone involved with the high end art scene of Melbourne, this is something I am now considering. It seems people in Melbourne prefer to purchase Art that is not too colourful. And it does correspond with a number of artworks that I do come across in the more high end portion of the Art Market. It seems that the more 'serious' one considers the artist, the more darker, subdued and muted the colour palette. Those bright, dazzling and sometimes hyper colourful works, are more aligned with 'amateurs', "hobby artists", for people with less sophisticated tastes. I never connected this before. It seems, as I have a strong narrative element to my work as well, having the strong colour and the meaningful narrative are too confronting, so one has to be toned down. I find that the sensibilities of something so essential to human nature, colour can be such a determinate of a 'whole' culture, the Melbourne art culture, is a revelation. I was thinking upside down. I see grey everywhere here; the clothes, the buildings, the skies, the sea and I wanted to bring colour into the greyness. Colour is why I am a painter. Using colour, choosing the palete is the joy of it. The boldness, the harmonies of colour, I relish it. I like food that has deep, colourful flavours. I like environments that hum with colour, be they greens of the tropics, blues of the skies and seas in Queensland and Western Australia. A field of yellow sunflowers, the red sands of the desert. The warmth of tones, that warm the soul. So how to navigate this new understanding.

It has been a year of existential wrestling that has visited my life in a variety of forms, everything has now disappeared and I am left alone and wondering, How did this happen? Why did I allow this to happen? It was the end of the road, we all must come eventually to the end of our road, the one we chose to walk down all those eons ago. We start each new track with hope or fear, either one still requires we take a step and then another and then time passes and you've taken a thousand steps and your life unfolded and then woops! crossroads again. The last stretch of this road was a mountain, treacherous and unfamiliar terrain. At least towards the end the weather was good, it was sunny and the vista was beautiful. I never tire of opening my eyes and seeing the beauty around me now, but the road itself is still stony. In my heart it feels like I walk a tightrope, the thin strand I place one foot in front of the other is perhaps called hope, whilst on either side of me, in a space that stretches far away into the inky darkness of that which ultimately descends into nothingness, is fear. Fear is all around me and I take one quivering step, toes clenched around the strand that holds me upright, fighting the pull of gravity, towards a place that I want to believe exists. This place is a home, a studio, a solidity of sorts that I can return to and know this is where I can rest, create, propose and dare to roam from, because I can return at the end of the day's journey and be still and at peace. But life is a paradox, for having stepped onto the tightrope, I saw things I had not seen before, experienced things I hadn't experienced before, learnt things about myself I didn't know and made connections with so many good people that I would never have met if I had never been vulnerable and curious. I have also learnt how to balance on a tightrope, unburdened myself from many possessions so I can take lighter and longer steps, learnt to love more openly and know more than ever, that this is my life, the journey is my life.

It is indicative of the upside down, Topsy turvy nature of the year that has passed, that I never posted a post in all that time. It has been a year of existential wrestling that has visited my life in a variety of forms, everything has now disappeared and I am left alone and wondering, How did this happen? Why did I allow this to happen? It was the end of the road, we all must come eventually to the end of our road, the one we chose to walk down all those eons ago. We start each new track with hope or fear, either one still requires we take a step and then another and then time passes and you've taken a thousand steps and your life unfolded and then woops! crossroads again. The last stretch of this road was a mountain, treacherous and unfamiliar terrain. At least towards the end the weather was good, it was sunny and the vista was beautiful. I never tire of opening my eyes and seeing the beauty around me now, but the road itself is still stony. In my heart it feels like I walk a tightrope, the thin strand I place one foot in front of the other is perhaps called hope, whilst on either side of me, in a space that stretches far away into the inky darkness of that which ultimately descends into nothingness, is fear. Fear is all around me and I take one quivering step, toes clenched around the strand that holds me upright, fighting the pull of gravity, towards a place that I want to believe exists. This place is a home, a studio, a solidity of sorts that I can return to and know this is where I can rest, create, propose and dare to roam from, because I can return at the end of the day's journey and be still and at peace. But life is a paradox, for having stepped onto the tightrope, I saw things I had not seen before, experienced things I hadn't experienced before, learnt things about myself I didn't know and made connections with so many good people that I would never have met if I had never been vulnerable and curious. I have also learnt how to balance on a tightrope, unburdened myself from many possessions so I can take lighter and longer steps, learnt to love more openly and know more than ever, that this is my life, the journey is my life.

While the beautiful beach sands are within daily reach I have been motivated to explore new ideas using sand as a medium. With no restraints as far as the size, space and materials available, the sun on my back and the glorious sounds of breaking waves in the background, it is just pure joy to work. The subject matter may be curious considering the environment in which it is being created, but it is often when one is removed from the theatre that a fuller understanding of what the characters were dealing with comes into better focus. Depicting an intimate relationship can be a metaphor for the larger scheme of our current experiences. There is much war happening, maybe not on my land but i am still affected by the daily visions visited on my screen and the background knowledge that personal tragedies are being felt everyday. The placing of two beings in close proximity, clutching each other for security and comfort while their bodies are wounded, and so are their hearts.

It has been a busy couple of weeks, which is nice. The paintings are coming along and some of them I am really pleased with. I have just completed Comfortably Numb, a larger work that explores complacency. Not a very sexy subject, but the experience I had meeting Micha after so many years was such a bolt to my sense of comfort, that i had to address it. I have combined the vastness of the desert, a rabbit which represents my Chinese horoscope sign and vulnerability. The hammock evokes a feeling of comfort, relaxation, holiday in the sun. She is suspended in this place and looks in the mirror, and sees a reflection of herself as the wounded rabbit, her soul is pierced. However, i also feel that the airy and lightness of the painting provides the space for hope and openness. I went to a really enjoyable opening last Friday at Anna Pappas Gallery. The work was very post-modern, painting certainly is dead in this universe. So i had a beer and managed to strike up a conversation with some people who were anything but. I met my first paint maker, and it was thrilling to actually have a conversation with someone about the loveliness of yellow. I do use alot of yellow, I feel it is so evocative, warm to cool and resonant. Yellow makes me happy and I am lucky enough as a painter to include it as much as I like in my surroundings. I have just started a new work called, Living on the Edge, and it uses yellow to create the energy of the universe. Wow. i hope it comes across that way, it won't have a figure either which is an interesting development for me. The idea has a figure and the sketches too, but i think it makes sense without one which is preferably for impact and simplicity.

On Saturday, I ventured into the city of Melbourne to join a group of cyclists as part of the Melbourne Now program. I met the group outside the NGV Federation Square and we set off to see the city from a different perspective. With Aaron Roberts an architect of Room 11, as our guide, he would stop at various buildings, or voids and even bridge structures, to speak of his vision. He spoke of how the city might utilise these spaces, consider other demographics and their needs, or challenge what our government generally considers belongs in an urban centre. The group of cyclists was such a lovely, friendly bunch, which made the experience so enjoyable. I am going to join another similar expedition next Saturday, exploring Melbourne on a bike. I think you should consider joining us too. Check out The Squeaky Wheel, they have lots of really interesting events around cycling. My shirt, called “What if I could change the world one revolution at a time..” was commented on and now resides in Twitter sphere. Meanwhile I have been working on the painting, ‘The Thirsty Dove’. A challenging painting as it turns out. I have changed my original structure and tried to make it more dynamic and integrated. I am also trying different colours, so as to separate the image and avoid it from being too illustrative. Try and abstract it somewhat. The idea came about after I came across a newspaper article in Israel about a man whose dwelling had been deemed illegal by the authorities so his home was destroyed. The photograph shows him offering a thirsty dove water, his thoughts for the needs of the bird more than for his own difficulties. I was so struck by this and decided to use it as a metaphor for the current conflict over land. The dove is a symbol for peace and by placing a soldier and an ordinary man and a dove between them, both men offering the dove water as a way of uniting the commonality of us all. Our basic human needs, shelter and water.

I stumbled upon a very interesting artist the other day and his approach and practice were very inspiring. Gerhard Richter was born in 1932 in Dresden, where he grew up under National Socialism and then lived under East German Communism. He eventually fled to West Germany and over his extensive working life as an artist traversed many different styles and content. He is now considered one the greatest living artists. So naturally, I was curious and was delighted to discover a documentary of him working in his studio. It was fascinating. One isn’t often given the access or privilege of seeing such an accomplished artist at work. I particularly was captivated by his personal philosophies, which he offered in occasional moments. He painted very large canvases, and he would randomly apply large areas of colour before taking an enormous squeegee, the length of the canvas and drag it across the surface, smearing the paint. So the work has independence about it. It relies on chance and choice. They are strong, timeless and almost transcendent. I was especially taken by his variety of styles and it was an endorsement for me, as I do have a number of approaches to my arts practice. I am trying to develop a clearer and more focused style, which is looser and more lyrical. One sentence he spoke particularly resonated with me, “ …to talk about painting is not only difficult, but perhaps pointless too. You can only express in words what words are capable of expressing, what language can communicate, and painting has nothing to do with that.” (G.Richter, “Painting”, 2011) I was also recently interested in the artist Raffi Lavie, a highly influential Israeli artist, whose works are sparse, rough, almost childish and extremely minimalist. They seemed brave and challenging to me. I like the space he places his figures and objects in the picture frame and despite that I don’t particularly warm to the works, their essence did inspire me to reduce the content and structure that I feel exists in my own work.

Acknowledging Country Exhibition Well the exhibition "Acknowledging Country"which was part of Reconciliation Week has come to an close. The Project Dreaming Tracks brought artists together to show our support and commitment to celebrate Aboriginal Australian culture, country and acknowledge Indigenous history. Held at the St Francis Pastoral Centre cnr Elizabeth & Lonsdale St, Melbourne from Wed 25 May - Mon 20 June 2011. The opening was a really nice affair, I met some lovely folk and was very appreciative that I could be a part of such an event. I showed "Looking for a Grave" and 'We Share the Same Heart". Both works are for sale. But all good things come to an end so we move on to the next one. keep you posted..cheers..

Well folks, it's another chilly day in Wintery Melbourne. I have a migraine and so am to be found resting in my bed. But there is just next to me 'The Anonymous Astrologer', recently painted and so fresh, one is in danger of having red paint leap onto any decent piece of clothing. It has a quiet contemplative feel about it. I believe the source of this imagery is two fold. I recently saw a magnificent, dark and brooding painting by Molly Pwerle and I was struck by her colours in this work. It made me connect to a part of myself I hadn't in a long while. I wanted to explore these feelings, these dark. stellar places. Meanwhile I have been watching a program by Stephen Hawking about deep space, infinity, black holes, the unimaginable space that we float within. So here i have it. It's different but connected.

It was with much anticipation that I joined my friend Diane on a road trip back to Alice Springs. I had lived there and gone to High School there, but had left without a backward glance in 1980. I had always wanted to drive through the outback to the Red Centre so this was a wonderful opportunity. The trip took three days and we stayed first night at Burra, a sweet little town, then Coober Pedy the second night. This was a confronting place for me, the desolateness, the dust and isolation and the raw sense of existence. We arrived in Alice early Sunday and as we passed through the gap I was flooded with emotion. The town however has changed substantially, and I hardly recognised where I was. As the desert red was hidden by the profusion of brilliant greens and soft yellow and olive strains I was astounded. I caught up with my first art teacher, Ian Campbell who was generous enough to agree to meet me for coffee. It was a wonderful reunion and I was pleased by how well we connected after all this time. I also met a wonderful woman, Pete Appleyard who runs her gallery Peta Appleyard in Todd Mall. She has some gorgeous paintings and it was a delight conversing with her. What a relief to meet a gallery owner who is open and willing to talk about her artists and express her passion of their work. A lovely early morning drive to Simpsons Gap was also a highlight of the trip. After two days I flew back to Melbourne to once again deal with the uncertainty of the future.

Well it's all happening at 898. Hoping that you will all be able to drop by and have a look at the new work. Some smaller works which are a little poignant, evocative and loose. I quite like them which is nice. There will also be some newer larger works which are a mixed collection as I range form my conceptual explorations of being and states of mind, such as 'Endless Possibilities' and 'The Anonymous Astrologer' to my current preoccupation with boats, oceans and fish. What can this all means I wonder. Often I can only work this out retrospectively. Some of these are 'Waiting for Seamail' and "When is a Fish not like it's Mother' This came about from a dream I had about 20 years ago when I have the opportunity to meet the man who knows the answer to everything. I probably should explain this in greater depth but to read this you'll need to visit on Saturday 8th Oct.