ANDREA McKEY

Have you ever passes someone in the street and wonder what they 'do'. Paul Theroux spoke of his compulsion for giving strangers a 'life' beyond that fleeting moment when he crossed their path. To his knowledge, of all the thousands of people he met in his journeys he only once got it right.

Some years back I had the good fortune to meet, in person, such a 'stranger'. We had crossed paths many times in our walks along the foreshore at Nightcliff and only ever made brief eye contact as we pushed our bodies to a thinner place. I had received a request by phone to design a box for a piece of kiln-fired glass. 'Yes' was my prompt reply, knowing full-well I would be Googling before the night was over to find out 'what' and 'how'. 'I'll bring it around tonight'. There was an accent among the eloquent voice that refused to be identified.

'Oh, it's you', we stated in unison as we faced one another. And there began a collaborative and personal friendship with Andrea I will take to my grave.

Over the next 5 years we designed over one hundred boxes utilising kiln-fired glass and Australian timbers. The boxes have been put aside and yet we still find ourselves working together.

I now have the pleasure of photographing her beautiful and very useable glass art. Oh, and one other thing. This project is as a result of Andrea's bright ideas. Thanks Andrea. Yeah, right!

Andrea fills every crook and cranny of her life with her craft. Surprisingly, her workspace occupies a small corner under her house (kiln excluded). There is nothing superfluous about the space she uses. It is filled with the tools of the trade and no more.
Andrea also lives her art. She wears it, eats from it, hangs it on the wall and leaves it seemingly discarded in the most unlikely places. It colours her life as the blue sky colours the day. It shines from her as the Moon on a darkened sea. This is not the person I gave a life to all those years back when we passed as strangers. The reality is far more gracious than any story I could dream up. This is a person who gives life to all those who secure her glass as their own.

Andrea is somewhat of a ferocious worker. She seems to exhibit at a moments notice and she is a regular at the craft shows. At this very moment she is trapsing the world on a Churchill Fellowship seeking new ways to work with glass. Let me assure those who come across her as strangers: take heed; Andrea can teach you many things. So, pay attention.

NATALIE JENKINS

Stalking exhibitions has become a compulsion of late. In this instance I have been asked to ‘open’ the exhibition; a focus on glass by eight artists. Not that I hold any position of importance in the eyes of the art/craft fraternity (or any other fraternity, for that matter); far from it. I can only see this as ‘payback’ of some type. Never-the-less I take my task seriously and say very little. After all, the patrons attendee's are here to view things of beauty; and that definitely leaves me out.

Glass has a fluid beauty that distinguishes it from other media. As if in chorus, glass has a sense of cold and heat at the same time. It appears delicate, yet exhibits considerable strength. In the hands of an artist, glass can become almost anything we desire. It can be utilitarian or aesthetic or both. We can drink from it, eat off it, see the world through it, reflect on it, wear it, and above all, admire its beauty as a result of manipulation in the hands of a fine artist.
Darwin has its fair share of glass artisans. Natalie Jenkins, in the brief time since she has taken up this craft, has shown herself to be as skilled and imaginative as any. I can only describe her recent work as hypnotic.
Natalie and I chat loosely on her background (NT through and through, I might add) and other relevant subjects as I wrestle with the lights and backdrop. I need to capture the singular beauty of her work in isolation to do it any justice at all. Then, unexpectedly, I find myself alone (as I often do when indulging in conversation).

I use my time wisely with the ‘jellyfish twins’. Already I am in a state of severe anxiety for fear of snapping off a tentacle. My relationship with such fragile objects is usually short-lived.
Natalie returns. People never cease to surprise me and Natalie has not been a disappointment. She is able to transform the most mundane into a thing of beauty with her bare hands yet the mention of a camera sends her running for a mirror. She flusters over the condition of her T-shirt and apologizes profusely for not having been more prepared.
Is the nature of us humans to believe that we can separate what we do from what we are? I could say to Natalie that she could wear a potato sack and groom herself with the left-overs from last night’s meal and I wouldn’t notice. Anyone who can produce this kind of stuff doesn’t need me, my camera or any mirror to tell them how much beauty they possess.

And now I am once more stunned by another human reaction. Natalie forgets about me and the camera and plays with her ‘jellyfish’.

For a full ten minutes I stop breathing and click away as she juggles glass tentacles. She demonstrates what we all do when we ‘know’ our craft; the object becomes part of her; another appendage, as it were. I confidently make a few adjustments to the camera as Natalie continues her dance with her transparent Scychozoa. Once again I am hypnotized by the scene through the viewfinder.

We discuss mutual friends, mentors and the meaning of life. Natalie talks confidently of her future. I have no doubt we will be seeing a lot more of Natalie and her glass.

Thanks Natalie.

KIT McNEILL

I enter Kit's home with a modicum of trepidation and it's not because of the less than warm welcome from her dog. As I pass through the entry all I can see ahead is blue sky and the turquoise expanse of Darwin Harbour. Once I establish my land legs, so to speak, and realize I am seeing Cullen Bay from a less than emblematical perspective, it occurs to me that this is the ideal place for an artist to work; under the expanse of the clear tropical skies. How romantic, I think.

Unfortunately any sign of romantic parady is soon divorced from my thoughts as I am escorted away from this picturesque scene. Kit's studio is a pokey and congested room at the back of her home where the view offers a glimpse of the passing traffic below and little else. Nudging elbows with books and brushes allows for sitting space - just.

There is an almost overpowering smell of turpentine flavoured with linseed. Nothing in this well used space has escaped the splattering of a burnt umbra or ultramarine. I have the claustrophobic feeling of being completely engulfed by Kit’s ‘shed’.
All this may seem a little strange from a photographer’s point of view where light and panoramic inspiration is a 'tool of the trade' so to speak. But Kit takes her work seriously and the distractions of jostling yachts and colourful bunting in the marina are only to be appreciated outside working hours.
Kit is a painter. It's her chosen profession. Let me make it quite clear. Kit is not retired. She has a real job - she is an artist. Anyone who takes her lightly will find themselves on the receiving end of a more than brutal look of disapproval and contempt; something akin to what a nurse might give to a lingering relative at the bedside of a patient. A possible relic of a past life, perhaps.
Some eight or so years back Kit was given a box of charcoals and some drawing paper. It would be hard to imagine that such a gesture would be so decisive in the formulation of Kit’s future path.

Now, as Kit explains the process that brings one of her works of art (one of a series of ten paintings on historic sites in and around Darwin) to its conclusion, I listen attentively to a person who has come to terms with who she is and what she will do with her life. In our short time together I learnt of texture and technique, palettes and paint, brushes, board and what Kit calls ‘The Artist’s Eye’. This is common ground and, without further discussion we can comprehend the commonality of all artists.

Beyond the technique there is, within us all, an ability to find the ‘art’ in our line of sight. This ability goes by many names: talent, creativity, vision, but I especially like Kit’s terminology: ‘The Artist’s Eye’.

Kit describes how she is able to use it in a discriminatory manner to select what is needed of a landscape to ‘make’ the picture. I recall Gary Collins and Serena Kuhl both implying this way of seeing was innately necessary for the artist to achieve his/her goal. Worth investigating further? I think so.

Kit displays a genuineness in front of the camera that encourages me to find the person inside. I find it hard to separate her from her work so I allow the backdrop of paintings to engulf her. My concern as I leave, encouraged by a growl from her dog, is that I have done Kit justice. Has my ‘photographer’s eye’ mirrored what I have found in this unlikely place? If I haven’t it will give me a good reason to return. There is more to learn here as Kit merges her life with her art.


Thanks Kit

GARY COLLINS

If there is a better way to spend a morning besides having a chat and a cup of tea with artist Gary Collins then you had best keep it to yourself. I wasn't offering much in return but the bonus for Gary was that it kept him from his beloved housework. Still, it beats working for a living.

Gary lives beneath the undergrowth of suburbia with his wife, Jeanette, and two dogs of which one is fostered (and may well become croc fodder if Gary had his way). For the most part Gary spends his time painting landscapes and loading palm fronds onto the trailer. His landscapes have a touch of the surreal about them. Mystical creatures (female mostly, I am lead to believe) dance in and out of the canvas with such subtlty that it's hard to distinguish where the trees and rivers start and the kianpraty-like damsels end.

The studio is unusually poorly lit for what I would have expected. There is little room to move and there is a sense that this man's 'shed' is his own domain. He moves though the thicket of paintings and brushes without effort as he willingly shares his craft with me. You don't need a close inspection to realise the detail Gary includes in his work. His brushes are fine and delicate which is reflected in the brushstrokes that make up his art work.

He works close to his canvas. He knows where everything is. He is well versed in navigating his visual world.

One might be inspired by his abilities as I certainly am. There is also considerable admiration for a person who has had Macular Degeneration since his teens. What inspires me most from my observations is not so much the fact that Gary can produce such beautiful art with or without such restricted vision but his dogged determination to do so. This is clearly a person driven by his own resolve to achieve the extra-ordinary under extra-ordinary conditions. It seems what us mere mortals might consider impossible is simply a task worth conquering.

He's a bit camera shy so we joke through a few frames. He seems pained by the idea of having his photograph taken so I remind him of the times when he painted portraits. He smiles knowingly and for an instant there is the essence of what I want. CLICK!

We throw around some ideas on solving the problems of the world and I leave him to his house cleaning. I've got what I came for. I have a feeling I got a bit more than I bargained for; an old maxim about a man with no shoes comes to mind.

Thanks Gary.

WORKSHOP

pottery workshop, Territory Craft, 2010.

One feature of the artist's life is the workshop.

Among other things, it enables the artist to teach their craft; to pass on their skills or draw out the skills of others.
Workshops can take many forms. Probably the most common is the hands-on class where students will follow a set of instructions from the artist and make something.
Oh, if it was as simple as that!
Then there is the 'watch me do it' class where the artist will demonstrate their skills and we will all rush home to our shed, kitchen, laundary, back yard, living room floor and make something.
If it was that easy!

Then there is the outing. 'Follow me and I will show you how easy it is to do'.
So, how come mine doesn't turn out like yours?
And so on.

Then there are those who can mould their students as they would a fine piece of

pottery or a delicate piece of jewellery. The artist who is also a teacher uses the same skills to extract the best from their students as they use to extract the best from their clay, camera or canvas. Watching an artist teach is akin to watching them create. It's a beautiful thing to behold.

I've seen a few in my time. None is better than Cecily. But she does have an advantage over some. As a teacher of many years before she became a 'potter?' she had already honed her teaching skills. Taking on pottery in her 'later' years seemed to come naturally but for those who have followed her work we know it's been a hard, persistant, frustrating but satisfying journey that, for her, doesn't have an end; just a never ending path of discovery.

And that is how she approaches her students.

Watching the students draw on her knowledge as they teach their own eyes and hands to do what they need to do is quite hypnotic.

I wonder what goes through their heads as they see changes in their own skills and feel the change withing themselves that grabs all of us at some point. Then they, too, become the teacher and the artist becomes the student.

THE EXHIBITIONIST

I have just returned from an exhibition opening at Territory Craft Gallery. Jasmin Jan, Andrea McKey and Cecily Willis are as inspiring as ever.

As I watched the crowds of well wishers and potential purchasers milling around the paintings, pottery and glass (and a few around the olives and cheese) I wondered what this was all about.

Where does the 'exhibition' sit with the ethics and ethos of the artist? Is it a commercial venture to help pay the bills and feed the starving children? Is it that the artist needs the public acclaim for their craft to be validated? Or is this mearly a social event where we can enjoy the pleasures of the company of others in an atmosphere of creativity?

As an artist who has exhibited from time to time in different media, I see exhibitions as hard work, setting me to a deadline I don't like to adhere to and generating a mental state of anguish that I could have well done without. Yet I continue to exhibit. So much for my masochistic tendencies.

But what of Jasmin, Andrea and Cecily. These artists are well known and respected members of the art community in Darwin (and elsewhere). Why do they and others like them exhibit? I can find any number of places where their art is presented and for sale. Do they really need to put themselves through the paces an exhibition demands.

There are some artists who choose never to exhibit in this sense. I'm reminded of the stories around Picasso who refused to even exhibit one of his paintings while he was alive. His sister used to sneak into his studio and steal the paintings for galleries to exhibit. Yet his own house was filled with his own piantings. It seems as if Pablo was content with his own appraisel and beconned input from no-one. There are a number of photographers who have resisted the path to 'exhibitionism' as well.

But many do. Hopefully, over the next 12 months I can get an incling of why.

Don't get me wrong: I love exhibitions. Other peoples. Maybe you can share with me, your thoughts on exhibitions and their function for you as an artist.

ART v’s CRAFT

I’m about to say something that will surely create some debate.
For the sake of brevity I will, from this point on, refer to all those people who become part of this project because of their skills in the field of choise as ‘artists’. What they produce will be referred to as ‘art’. The skills they have and the processes they use is their ‘craft’.
I am not endeavouring to re-define these terms, only to use them in a consistent and well defined manner. My usage may not fit with everyone, but as this project unfolds it will become more evident and apparent as to my reasoning and motives.
Please bear with me.