Exhibitionism
So often, artists are very generous. Maybe generosity is the essence of heartfelt and wholehearted art. Often, the art I really connect with is created by artists prepared to risk being very vulnerable. They share their stories and their journey in ways that can be humbling and inspiring. And in ways that encourage me to risk vulnerability. (I know some may wonder what vulnerability there may be in making a piece of jewellery but it's not always a simple string 'em up thing!)Last week, with my constantly inspiring mother, I went to two exhibitions at Manly Regional Art Gallery in Sydney. The first was an exhibition of art quilts created with the theme of Regeneration. Near each exhibit, there was 
a table where the artist could share more about their work if they chose. Some had used some photos or provided a brief summary of what they were saying with the work. Others talked very personally about the journey that had led to each piece or that they'd had making the piece.They talked about the process, providing samples of fabrics, techniques, mind-maps and giving such an insight into how they worked. Phrases like auditioning the fabric, and a sense of experimentation and play permeated their writing. Some talked of their sense of excitement exploring different themes, sometimes related to the area in which they worked (like cellular biology) and other times with respect to an experience such as emerging from a great loss, o
r surviving a bush fire. We felt so humbled seeing these works. Both mum and I (who share a similar aesthetic and passion for colour) were particularly drawn to the work of Brenda Gael Smith. The colours she used, particularly in her piece Magic Carpet (not exhibited at Manly but visible on her luscious website) reminded me of the bowls of colours used for the Holi festival in Nepal. The lovely Brenda gave me permission to use these photos of her and her work. She is standing in front of Magic Carpet in the photo on the left.
The other exhibition literally reduced me to tears. Textile artist Carole Douglas shared her passion for the Kutchh region of Gujurat province in India in an exhibition which combined textiles, a sound and vision element, an installation and collection of fabric and items used by the nomadic people she spends a lot of her time with. I guess I really responded to reading about another person who felt a possibly inexplicable but profound connection with another place. I think too, I was feeling sad knowing that while I was having this wonderful time, my darling family in that other place I call home are suffering dreadfully due to the political unrest and problems there.Carole created a piece of work based on the toran (a traditional Gujurati toran is pictured above left)-the hanging strung across doorways as a welcome. Standing in front of one part called What to make of me I was struggling to hold back frank sobs! And then, in walked the woman herself. She is as delightful and as generous and fascinating as you would expect having seen her work. Travelling with her would be amazing. I saw many similarities in the lifestyle and artistic motifs of the people she lived with and the adivasi or indigenous people that I am most familiar with in Nepal. Even the names (Rajbansi in Nepal, Rabari in
Kutchh) have more than a passing resemblance. I am hoping to get Carole's permission to post some photos of hers here. The photo to the right is one I took of one the Janakpur Mithila artists with her mural from the Janakpur Airport.Back at mum and dad's I wrote in my little red leather journal (thanks Deb! I love it) for ages, sketching, writing, brainstorming. In over 15 months, I have myself a small exhibition gig at Broken Hill Regional Art Gallery (what were we thinking? ) and seeing these exhibitions pushed me in new directions in thinking about my own approach to sharing and being vulnerable. I feel very energised and am buzzing. But I'm not grasping that feeling and very awarethat it changes. But right now, thank goodness for the yoga or I'd bust.
