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Soft Sculpture - body project

The agapanthus in my green and white garden has never looked more stunning. A jungle of green shades and textures surrounds and inspires my outdoors working. Sun warms my bones and enables these quiet moments when pain takes second place.

Indoors my floor is strewn with body parts.

And Jessie has finally lost her hair. I have been reluctant to remove the long black dreads, but since Kouros, my soft sculpture figures have had no hair; Jessie, who is being worked on from (what were) the toes up, is now ready to go bald.

The new man (as mentioned - just a newer version of the old one, less hair, but that doesn't show) is in pieces. I get a little thrill of excitement anticipating putting him together.

In the garden I work on smaller body parts, it's important to keep them white, and in the heat that can be a challenge. Anticipating two new men, I make extra parts and they line up on the decking. The third man creates interesting questions, so soon I must grab pen and ink and start investigating his options...

 

Emerging, sunkissed

from the gentle shade

of my garden-green

umbrella, stitching

nipples for the new

man as the sun slides

into evening;

I imagine life

doesn't get too much

better than moments

like these.

 

 

 

Posted by Gini, 14 August 2012

Last modified by Gini, 14 August 2012

Waiting

The Dawn Chorus seeps into my consciousness with liquid joy. Night brought sleep, so I open my eyes with a question.

These days play out on a yo-yo string, some are stretched out towards the promise of wholeness; some like this one are curled in on the pain. And waiting an unfocused kind of waiting, between moments that I try not to fritter away. Yesterday comes like that when I wedge myself against the garden wall and paint a long view. And later I watch the birthday flags waving from terracotta pots and take a rain check on chocolate layer-cake.

Days, moments, that leave no memories, just quiet folds in the chronological order of my life. Out on the pleated edges is where the sun shines and creation swirls; and where hope still has a cheeky smile.

I know of no way to acknowledge the value of hours devoted to breathing through pain; no way but waking and living. No way to honour love and life, but living; being; creating.

Sensuous lines swirl
white on white, kissed
by the glass walls
of my house; embraced
by the Nouveau frame.
Day by day, week by week,
I wait
pressed against the glass
while the sun rises
Klimt gold
and a squillion snowflakes
dither and refrost.

Impatient for my
jewelled garden to emerge,
I stuff
armfuls of silken narcissi,
fistfuls  of fake muscari
into the waiting canvas.
Beardsley morphs into Mucha
waiting melts into spring.

Posted by Gini, 22 April 2012

Last modified by Gini, 26 April 2012

Finding head space

Deconsecration: Maria Francesca Tassi and Francesca Lazzarini

Curated by Sara Falanga

Salisbury Arts Centre, 13/01/2012 to 25/02/2012

 

My image has been progressing  slowly, old pens do get scratchy so I have bought new ones and they glide smoothly over the paper, quickening the drawing that finds itself as we work together.
Am I turning my back on digital expression? Am I sulking because the technology seemed beyond my control? Or just retreating into the comfort zone while I figure things out?
I have also visited Deconsecration, the exhibition that has replaced The View from Here at Salisbury Arts Centre, but found it disappointingly superficial.

Paper blushed pink with saints
and legends; cut and formed
to please without a story
of it's own. Adrift like
pollen on the wind. Too late
to fertilise the squiggles
and swirls that pattern papers
pinned precisely to the walls.
Rooted images seeking
history and cultural
reference pale into the
grey walls, danced upon by
older scriptures. Hints of
warmer spaces fail to heat
the emptiness; shy away
from Latin fire with a quiet
reticence, reminiscent
of another culture,
another time.

Posted by Gini, 30 January 2012

Last modified by Gini, 6 February 2012