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"The Recombinant Sculptor"

submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of

MASTER OF FINE ART

School of Art

VICTORIAN COLLEGE OF THE ARTS

The University of Melbourne

Katherine C. Taylor - May 31, 2005

CERTIFICATION

I hereby certify that, except where due acknowledgment has been made to other material, the research paper and exhibition submitted to fulfil requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Art (VCA) comprise only my original work.

..................................................

(Name of Candidate)

/ / 2005

Contents

Preface

The Key Master: A look into my thought process

The Key Master at Sea

The Gateway

Environmental Control

Why

Practical Application

Conclusion

Bibliography

Exhibition List

Preface

This paper is a tracing of my engagement with the external world, how I see and respond to stimuli. I am approaching this paper as I would approach my sculpture, taking my experiences and recombining them into entirely new creations, the way a scientist might recreate the human genetic code. As I attempt to elucidate the practice, in a sense to unwind this double helix, I feel a kindred spirit to Matthew Flinders, charting new waters in order to make sense of the surroundings.

For the past 5 years I have been working on my Scurry series: Big Scurry, Little Scurry, Bones, Furry Scurries. For the most part these sculptures have a projected movement, as if, given the right mechanism, they would scuttle off in to their pouch homes. The first piece of the series, Scurry, was made in steel sewn together with bailing wire. Although all the sculptures have that sense of suspended animation they do not seem to be able to push themselves into the tight defensive ball that I was searching for.

As I was unsuccessful in taming my initial sculpture, I pushed to remake the idea. I began to look for control through different mediums. It was not until right before I left for Australia that I made a key structural discovery, the spine. Having found the advantages of the vertebrates, I was able to defend my psychological self with my sculptural phalanx.

This paper begins with a Preface and is followed by seven sections: The Key Master, The Gateway, Environmental Control, Why…, Practical Application, Conclusion, Bibliography. The Key Master is a map of my brain, the thoughts as they come and go. It includes The Key Master at Sea, a section that is about a finite point in time and location when I was traversing the Atlantic Ocean. The Gateway is about my drawings and related ideas. The drawings are the initial inspiration for my sculptures and lithographs. Environmental Control speaks about my environmental context and the importance of travelling for my work. The Why… explains why I am a sculptor. Practical Application is the last section, explaining how my thinking and observations might affect the viewer's experience. It also talks about the humour this is in my work as well as the subtle references that are made throughout the paper.

The paper is written in a very subjective manner. My narrative approach mirrors the practices and thoughts of artists Louise Bourgeois, David Smith and Jasper Johns:

I see the spider as the saviour. It saves us from mosquitos. But if you want to detest spiders, it is not against the law.

If you ask me why I make sculpture, I must answer that it is my way of life, my balance, my justification for being.

Basically, artists' work out of rather stupid kinds of impulses and then the work is done.

 

The Key Master: A look into my thought process

Emotional key

Sometimes I hate being an artist and all that it involves. I hate the solitude, the reliance on myself, the cyclical nature of the work, and the constant ups and downs. There are times I feel completely inept, and others when I am way over qualified. My desires and identity seem to be so entrenched in my work. However, these feelings of sensitivity and emotional investment are all part of what I think it takes to be an artist.

Pressure key

I have to work today. Some days are just like that: I have to give into the urge and feed my habit. I will never be able to escape these needs and desires. They bring loneliness, weirdness, and eccentricity. But to be able to live life at this speed, this intensity - is like living ten lives all at once. This life is not a dress rehearsal.

Positive key

The guy at the grocery store checkout asked me how my Monday was? I said fine. In fact, I said, it is a great day. He looked at me funny. I said so will Tuesday be and all the days for the rest of the week. He wondered if Saturday did not have an edge on, say, Thursday? Why have one great day when you can have seven?

Ktictionary

-Will it fit under my bed?

Making key

Busy work is part of the studio practice of bronze casting. There is mould making and wax carving which constitutes the bones of the work. This is the time when, for the most part, the thinking has been done and it is time for execution.

The only nice thing about repetitive labour is that the body can be humming away busy and content, while the mind is free to wonder. It might calculate, it might dream, it might attend to bodily business and send signals for more food. But my brain must be engaged at all times or it will rise up in revolution. It must be allowed to follow its every whim and curiosity, to think out every possible solution. It is best when the mind is alert and at the same time corralled. It is often at this point, when there is a panic and no obvious handholds, that the edge of elucidation appears, and the climb continues.

Historical key

The Furry Scurries presented a challenge with their backbones in place. They could not go too much askew from their basic positions. They seemed to look best neatly hunched up on the wall, as if about to roll into that little ball. But now I was ready for another angle.

When creating Spider Chair I used the same idea of an internal structure that limited movement. But this time I was ready to break out and let those legs flail about. Ultimately this led to a turn in focus. My concerns were moving towards the joinery and how things could be slotted together.

Training key

A major part of my adult life has been spent as an elite competitive athlete, where training and regime are governing forces. I think of my brain as I think of my heart, a muscle needing exercise. I have been known to overtrain.

Time key

How long did it take you to make that sculpture? I look at my clock: 30 years 4 months 6 days 4 hours and 21 seconds.

Fabrication key

Spider Chair started with the square tubing found outside the studio. As the piece progressed I wanted more legs. There was no more of the square tubing so I had to use round tubing. The housing slots now required keys to keep them from rotating and ending up on the ground. The piece evolved as technical requirements changed. I learned it is not about the end result, but what you discover along the way. If I had the piece fabricated the piece never would have become an object of evolution.

The Christmas presents once opened are Not So Much Fun as they were while we were in the process of examining, lifting, shaking, and thinking about and opening them.

Observant key

It is not very often that I know where the piece is coming from or what it is about until much later but with Serial it was very obvious from the outset. I was running around the park when I noticed one of these fronds perched on the ground. I was attracted to its static animation. I took this piece home with me and covered it with cereal, the very fuel that gets me around the park.

Overload key

A food market is a visual smorgasbord where all of my sensory receptors can become overloaded quite quickly. If I have a schedule to keep, I have to keep my head down and have my list or I will be there for hours, lost in the colourful array of fruit and veggies. The only downside is that on my ‘list days' I don't get the opportunity to try something new; to eat a furry lychee, to sample a creamy dragon fruit, to wonder just why those bananas have that annoying wax on their rumps.

Furry Scurries, 2003, fake fur and cardboard, 40x30x25cm ‘… seemed to look best neatly hunched up on the wall, as if about to roll into that little ball.'

Spider Chair, 2004, steel, 300x100x270cm ‘… my concepts were moving towards the joinery and how things could be slotted together.'

Serial, 2003, palm frond and cereal, 80x15x10cm ‘It was very obvious from the outset…I was attracted to its static animation. I took this piece home with me and covered it with cereal, the very fuel that gets me around the park.'

Discordant key

I need different kinds of people in my life to engage the various aspects of my personality. I am easily distracted and that can be quite grating to different people, but when I need results I can hyper-focus. This makes things that much more intense for me. I am most grateful for my brain. I know I complain about my chemical imbalances, but the good is just so damn good.

At times I need to pull away to do my work, it seems I need to be fully independent to get it done.

Harry's freedom was bound up in a need for ‘loneliness and independence' but eventually this became his demise. For every strong man attains to that which a genuine impulse bids him seek. But in the midst of the freedom he had attained Harry suddenly became aware that his freedom was death and that he stood alone.

Yet, at the end of the day, the work is about connecting through visual communication.

Frustration key

Turkey Butt Juice $1

Fickle pickles mating in the park

Rhinos horns a plenty

Unclear scribbles on the side

Single backgammon pieces on the board

Turkey feathers in my soup

Rickety ladders when what I want is on the top shelf

Always pulling up my socks

Tickling with steak knives

I when it should be me

Only one raisin in my bowl

Noticing I forgot my pants

Sometimes it can feel like I am in a storm. There is lightning all around me. It can be full on, but the storm will pass. There is usually a big mess left behind in the wake of all that chaos. But in that mess there is so much life. The green flora is so lush, the birds begin to chirp and the sunshine just seems so bright white.

At this point I can think and work, unencumbered with feelings. It is a true freedom in life. It is so nice to be without the sadness and crying but instead filled with the wonder of what lies ahead. It is easy for me to get caught up in the emotional pulls of making my work. As I am trying to figure out an emotional event, love affair, or technical aspect, I have to relive it and think back to what it was like. I find in these moments a woeful sadness despite being in the safety zone of my studio. It can often be as emotional as when the actual event was occurring.

However, once the moment has been broken down and each bit is seen as a smaller part of the bigger whole, it seems much more manageable. It is like I can handle the problem, work through it, and find a harmonious solution. Every event in my life has some sort of silver lining.

So quite often, the easiest way to get rid of a Minus is to change it into a Plus. Sometimes you will find that characteristics you try hard to eliminate eventually come back, anyway. But if you do the right things, they will come back in the right ways. And sometimes those very tendencies that you dislike the most can show up in the right way at the right time to save your life, somehow. If that's ever happened to you, you'll think twice before setting out to completely un-bounce yourself.

Studio key

When will it come out? Will I want to get back into the studio ever again?
Will I have to force myself back there? I know it is in there, but how do I get it out?

I run countless kilometers, maybe after this turn, over this hurdle, maybe then it will come back. Sometimes just being in the studio is very important. It is not the making and doing, but being and looking.

Still, I continue to make. I have been here before. I know where I am coming from. I have made work before without knowing where I am going or how I will get there.

Doodle key

I am sitting with a group of my peers doodling on the table. Some of the drawings come together to make a larger community, mine stay out on the outer corners of the paper. Each of these drawings looks like a secret code, ktgliphics.

Awareness key

It is through the investigative modes of reading, travelling, living, eating and experiencing life that my practice is augmented. These things teach my mind not only what to think, but how to think. They teach me to be ‘on', ever aware, ready to pounce on a thought, idea, or vision.

Ruminating key

Most of the time I want what I want right now. But that crunched up, hunched up desire is only hurting not helping. I have learned over the years that it takes me a bit to understand something, to see what it is that I am looking at. The less I try to understand something and the more I ruminate on it, the more crystal the clear becomes.

When I want to look at something in the dark I can't look at that object directly. I have to look around it to see it. I discern the figure through the shadows, negative space and light/dark contrast. Vertebrate creates a sense of shadows through the use of contrast in the dark patina and the highly polished bronze. The shiny extremities initially attract the viewer's attention, the darker brooding bits require a hunched over scrutiny. While one is carefully looking at the details, another shiny section on the base of the sculpture jumps out to lead the viewer to the shadow being cast by the forked tongue. The viewer is back at the beginning and can step back to combine all the parts and see the whole sculpture.

Vertebrate, 2004, bronze, 70x50x20cm ‘...creates a sense of shadows through the use of contrast in the dark patina and the highly polished bronze. The shiny extremities initially attract the viewer's attention, the darker brooding bits require a hunched over scrutiny.'

Cycle key

I went to see Kill Bill the other night. It was okay, but it left very little up to the imagination. I don't mind being entertained, but I also like to intellectually engage in my entertainment. Mad Max, is a movie that left more to my own imagination: it set up the parameters and let my worst nightmares unfold.

Most of the movies I watch come from the library and they are usually old movies. In order to understand a lot of the newer movies you have to have watched the old ones. There is referential treatment in the film world, paying homage to the movies that came before. In my own work I also refer to other artists, such as Louise Bourgeois, my environmental surroundings and recurring themes. Scurry, Bones, and Vertebrate are all material variations of the same theme: the sum of the parts equalling the whole.

Skeleton key

Those little red lines under a word can be quite annoying, especially when you are sure you have spelled that word correctly. I could look it up or I could use another word, there are always choices.

I tend to employ this philosophy in my methodologies of communication and material choice. Often I will use what is around me, like cardboard from cereal boxes, when making my models. When I get stuck in the studio, I go for a jog and the answer to my problem is usually right there, lying on the ground.

Mate's key

There on my table in the studio were two books on bugs-n-stuff and spiders and things. Someone has thoughtfully brought them in and left them on my desk, thinking of me, and how much it would make me smile.

Master key

If ever a book is written about my life and work, everything will be highlighted in bright fluorescent pink, because everything, down to the smallest microbe, is very important.

Sometimes my work makes people leap for joy and they just love it, but occasionally I will get a response about how creepy, weird or sad it is. But I am a whole person and a complete human being. I accept that my work can embrace and reflect a much wider range of emotion than even I am conscious of.

I have heaps of enthusiasm.  How did I get it? How did I get so much extra? At times I seem to have enough for ten people. It goes back to seeing the potential in just about everything. For me there is ALWAYS a bright side to life and to each and every moment and each and every encounter.

The grandeur of human actions is measured by the inspiration from which they spring.

Bones, 2001, ceramics, 140x75x25cm ‘The sum of the parts equalling the whole.'

Journey key

A friend of mine ordered a mantis egg over the Internet. He put the egg in the terrarium and waited for it to hatch. At first there were hundreds of baby mantises crawling all over the box. As the days passed there were fewer and fewer. They were eating each other until only one survived. The last mantis had endured quite a journey, but she made her decisions under duress. There was a clear choice to eat or be eaten.

The decisions I make in my life do not have so dire a consequence. Yet still I carefully consider each decision. Usually they are guided not by what I would like to do, but more what I might regret if I did not.

Mantis, 2003, photograph, 10x15cm ‘This was a clear case of eat or be eaten.'

Paradigm, 2004, fiberglass, teak, nylon, stainless steal, 65ft ‘The ocean is beautiful and magical, but when it is the only thing that you are looking at day in and day out it gets old fast. But then my mind reached a point, where it was clear of all debris, and then I began to see my surroundings in a whole new way.'

The Key Master at Sea

Stuck on the boat

I had the opportunity to sail across the Atlantic Ocean. We sailed in a 65ft boat from England to America. I had not done much sailing before, let alone in the open ocean; yet I wanted to go, partly out of ignorance of what the experience involved and partly out of the desire to blow my mind.

He embarks on the night journey…from which he emerges purified, enriched by new insight, regenerated on a higher level of integration.

The trip was truly an adventure. I spent thirty-one days out in the open ocean battling seasickness, hurricanes, and utter boredom. The ocean is beautiful and magical, but when it is the only thing that you are looking at day in and day out it gets old fast. But then my mind reached a point, where it was clear of all debris, and then I began to see my surroundings in a whole new way.

Looking out on to the ocean became a treat. Each day was full of mystery and intrigue. What kind of debris would float by today? How many different kinds of jellyfish are out there? The water had so many different moods. Some days it undulated like a mass of scaly skin, others it crashed about on the side of the boat, and sometimes it was as placid as a sheet of glass.

But the most profound realisation was the simple fact that I was out in the middle of the ocean. No matter how unhappy or tired I was there was no reprieve. I had committed to the getting off point being on the other side. I had to be in the ‘now' of the journey, making the mundane exciting and the perils character building.

What was this adventure really about?

There is a little voice inside of me that makes me do these wild and wacky things. That is the voice I listen to in the studio. Sometimes things have to be tested in order to be able to trust them. But once tested and discovered to be tried and true there is no going back. The work can be approached with whimsy or attacked with vigor.

The work outside the studio is just as important as what is inside as my thinking is constant. It is what I am, a thinking woman. The sculpture is a small representation of the large amount of time that it takes for me to make my work. It is the representation of an experience translated into tangible objects.

In my work I seek to inspire others to live and learn the way that I do, to the fullest. I want to try to take each day, each moment, each stick, and each tiny fleck of dust and realize the potential.

One of the many stories that my godfather relayed to me on the sailing trip was about when he finally took a vacation. When he was a resident at Mass General he never left the building. In fact, he didn't even have an apartment; he actually lived at a hospital. But finally a mate lured him away with a sailing adventure in the Caribbean and it was there on the beach with a cocktail in his hand and a sunset at his feet that he came up with the question that would keep his lab busy for the next fifteen years.

How does one know what will be important? Sometimes a guess is enough. Never fear, themes will emerge.

What I like most about my work is that everything is related; the weather, what I had for breakfast, sticks on the ground, even those tiny little bugs crawling around on the stick. This is good in that it is all about work, bad in deciding where to take a vacation to get away from it all? How am I going to find that perspective my godfather discovered?

Basics

The first thing that I did when I got to land was look for a toilet. We had been in the throws of Hurricane Charley and had lost all power. I was really looking for some privacy and stability. The head I found had a light that was on a timer. Only the timer was not working properly and the light would shut off at random. I was scurrying around trying to finish brushing my teeth before the timer went off, only to grope around in the dark until I found the switch to start the charade all over again. The timer was a metaphor for life. You don't know how much time you are going to get before it or someone you love is gone.

Only by living at the edge of death can you understand the indescribable joy of life.

The Gateway

Trusting my gut

Just when I think that I have had enough and am ready to cash in my chips, a blip of amazing art-making wonder falls from the sky. It is like the art gods feel sorry for me, and in a fit of reverse psychology, make me an offering. Onto the paper appears one of those drawings that move me. It epitomizes that emotive place I am in. With that on the wall my flame is rekindled, vigor renewed and I feel alive. Life is worth living.

When you know you know, things seem simple. It does take a previous measure of past success to know this. I know to trust my instincts and my gut and I know they will not lead me astray.

Taking a leap of faith

Sometimes people ask me to draw their picture, I do not like doing this. I don't have the patience to sit and concentrate and determine where the light is coming from and how it should fall to create a shadow. There is no mystery or intrigue. Rendering is a skill that can be gained with time.

There are a few drawings in my sketchbook of people, sitting on the couch or in lectures. They are just simple line drawings, a bit wonky (see below), but they look like who they are. Somehow I was able to capture the vital essence.

Ktictionary

Wonky (adv.) —used to describe something that is not quite right; but is often associated with a one-shot result.

I am afraid of making a mistake and sometimes I just have to take that leap of faith. Trying to find that angle, to make that drawing come alive, regardless of subject or demand.

You come across a situation and then you dive into it, not knowing what it is going to be like or even where it is going to take you.

I like the mystery in life. You never know what you are going to get until it is done. Yes, there are times when I want to take a look into the crystal ball and see what is around the next corner. But then my life/drawings would not be nearly as exciting.

My pouch

A kangaroo joey's life revolves around the pouch. It sleeps in the pouch, eats in the pouch and runs to the pouch at the first sign of danger. Why was my brain so open today? Was it perhaps the familiarity of my surroundings? Was it because I was in a safe place both mentally and emotionally and could explore these thoughts?

One leg can always stretch more than the other. Sometimes you can use that leg to help stretch the other leg.

My drawings usually start with the familiar. I often return to an old theme to get past the huge white blankness that is staring me down. In Journey 8 I started with the familiar spider, making it the central figure. She was my familiar pouch that would lead me to the other parts of the drawing. As I worked, the cocoons and the nests became more interesting and intriguing, as they were the continuation of the adventure.

Drawing from my mood

When I draw, I have to check in with my mood. My emotional state is the biggest factor in determining what my drawings will look like.

…Bourgeois's drawings perform a function related not to her art but to the artist herself and her purely private emotions.

Maybe it was the way that I started, or maybe it was the confidence with which I took this drawing on. I had drawn big before; I was using my pervasive spider as a gateway to the bigger themes.

While making Journey 8, I could feel the difference. I was following my intuition. After I make a mark on the paper, I then take a step back to observe where to go next. From this observation the line quality and patterns emerge. The colour choice comes from inclination and whim. My drawing is evolving.

Impatience

…With a Londoner's impatience, she wanted everything to be settled up immediately. She mistrusted the periods of quiet that are essential to true growth.

Most of the time I just want the drawing to be finished. I understand that the feelings should dictate my moves in the studio, but I do not like the idea that I am left at the mercy of my feelings.

Intuition

In my studio I am in control. There is so much that I do not understand out there in the world. On paper, I can take my queries apart and put them back together in my own time. Feelings can dictate what to do: what colour do I feel? Is the form right? Do I have to wait for the next feeling to figure that out? How long is this going to take? There are other drawings and sculptures I want to make today.

Journey 8, 2004, charcoal and pastel, 180x300cm ‘I started with the familiar spider, making it the central figure. She was my familiar pouch that would lead me to the other parts of the drawing. As I worked, the cocoons and the nests became more interesting and intriguing as they were the continuation of the adventure.'

Comparing

Organic tomatoes are much yummier than regular tomatoes. However, organic tomatoes are not as pretty as the hydroponic ones. For me true appreciation comes with comparisons. Sometimes it rains in the studio and nothing goes right, other days the sun is shining and I get that warm fuzzy feeling. Yet, the earth needs the water and the sun to be able to flourish.

Some drawings are easy and free, like my doodles. Others take much more work to happen. I can appreciate the difference and what comes from each. The easy free ones are quick fixes for my creative hunger. The bigger ones are more involved and take longer, but they are the ones that satiate my intellectual curiosities.

The drawings can help to answer questions about what something in my imagination might look like. It is through my drawings that I am able to experiment with my sculpture ideas. For example, I wanted to know what my Serial piece might look like with legs. I had a chance to give it life, that subtle look of lift off, as one edge is poised so delicately on the ground and the other is hovering, tense, waiting for the word go.

Serial with Legs, 2004, charcoal, 64x30cm ‘The drawings can help to answer questions about what something in my imagination might look like.'

Hiding in my work

The first drawings are always very difficult. They don't flow or ask questions.

I like doing big drawings. I like the feeling that I am a mere speck with my work surrounding and protecting me.

There is a splot (see below) of ink on the floor of my studio. I made it when a fellow student came to ask a question and I was tucked away safely into my drawing. She had to yank me back to the world of the living.

Ktictionary

Tactile (adj.) — a very good word for sculptors

Sketch book According to Lawrence Rinder,

Bourgeois is a compulsive recorder of data: emotional data, visual data, personal historical data.

I use a sketchbook to record all kinds of data. However, I do not work from the sketchbook; I work through it. The sketchbook keeps hold of my drawing notes, written notes, and practical notes.

Drawing notes

On the left side of the book are my drawings.

Written notes

On the right side are written notes and profundities.

Practical notes

These are notes on their own page with nothing to the right, the notes on procedural steps in printmaking, the numerical formulations and calculations, and in the back, images I have saved and receipts from purchases.

I do not have the kind of organizer that is produced commercially, because they have lines for word people. I have a blank paper book for organizing, because I am a visual person.

Doodles

Sculpture needs so much physical involvement that you can rid yourself of your demons through sculpting. Drawing doesn't have that pretension. Drawing is just a little help.

When my conscious is engaged my subconscious can be free to explore thoughts and ideas through doodling. These little drawings are precious, as they are the embryos of ideas. No, they have never looked anything like the sculpture in the end, but then does a human look anything like the single celled organism it began as?

A recent ‘doodle session' manifested itself into a spider invasion. I was just sitting casually at my desk, waiting for class to begin, and drew a quick and simple spider. Soon there were many spiders all over the page, getting into every other doodle, taking over the words, running all around.

Different kinds of drawings have different kinds of clues

Spider Chair was one of those sculptures that kept me up at night thinking about how I was going to get those legs slotted into place. And once I did that, how was I going to cover up my ghastly welding job? I made quite a number of drawings for this piece, each one with a different angle, approach and housing for the internal structure. But nothing seemed quite right. This made me go back to my sketchbook and look at the drawings that were the initial inspiration for the work. I hoped they would hold some clue as to the solution.

Going through my sketchbook I saw heaps of spider doodles, all a mass of swirl lines with eight legs straight out on either side. These creatures were all over every page, every phone message, and every lecture note from class. The spiders had invaded my world. Something about the spider, the way it lived, and the way that it was put together was intriguing me. Maybe it was when they die, and how dead spiders always seem to be wadded up, with their legs tucked up into their body. It is as if they are trying to dispose of themselves in a neat and tidy manner. Maybe the internal structure of the spider was where my interests lay.

As I sat in the studio, head in hands wondering what to do next. I looked at the drawings, yet again, and then back at the metal pieces of the sculpture. In my rendered drawings, unlike the doodles, there was a careful consideration of the legs and how they are slotted segments extending from the body of the spider. There was a clear connection to the Scurries. My interest lay in how the spider was connected, how the legs were jointed to allow it to have that peculiar spider walk.

Spider Chair was a 3D doodle, manifesting itself into a poetic use of language that emphasized the mechanical engineering in its construction. This material translation conceptualised my thinking and made me focus on how I had applied this line of thinking subconsciously to my other sculptures. I had to go back to the beginning with a conscious approach to learn from my intuition.

Semiotics — language of symbolism

Normally when I work with lithographs, I work under the principle of doodles being like forced errors. It is the idea that making a mark will become something. I just go to the stone and start with a splotch that tells me where the next one should be and so on. At some point, the image begins to resonate and I can see someone I love, an event, or myself in the picture. The marks become conscious and I work to enhance the image so that it might become more apparent to the viewer.

Learning through drawing within parameters

At one point, some lithographic work was needed for a horizontal space. How could I adapt my working methods to those requirements? With these parameters, I had to be grounded in my creativity. This was going to temper my work and the ‘moment'. However, if I could make the subconscious a part of my conscious practice then it would become second nature and I could be ‘free' within the parameters.

I approached the problem as if it was a papyrus scroll and I was going to put down my own ‘ktgliphics'. This would give me the horizontal structure I was looking for along with some creative latitude. Ultimately, I did not like the final image. On an individual basis they held on to the whimsy, but on a whole they just did not work. I cut up the litho and pasted it back together in a horizontal collage. The rearrangement of the images seemed to tell the story better, but I still was not completely satisfied.

Spider Chair, 2003, steel, detail ‘My interest lay in how the spider was connected, how the legs were jointed, to allow it to have that peculiar spider walk.'

Environmental Control

It is already in there

In Byron Bay there are little star like creatures on the beach. They are so beautiful, like mini tumbleweeds just floating along. Those weeds have filled me with laughter and squeals of delight. How can these things come back to Melbourne without getting the border patrol involved?

During volleyball training I looked back across my shoulder to see where the serve was coming from and there was one of those tumble weedy things just skipping along across the sand. I could not believe it. They have been in Melbourne the whole time. Why didn't I notice them before?

Individual consciousness…is in the highest degree influenced by inherited pre-suppositions.

Mini Tumbleweed, 2005, photograph, 10x15cm ‘…like mini tumbleweeds just floating along. Those weeds have filled me with laughter and squeals of delight.'

Conscious of my conscience

There I am working away in my studio thinking I have come up with an entirely new concept when really I am re-inventing the wheel. Repeated themes are constantly evolving in my work: segments, nature, femininity, and constant experimentation with methods and materials.

Many of the motifs in Guernica appear in previous work.

I spent a summer in Segovia when I was sixteen. This was my first overseas living and learning experience. As a class we made a trip to Madrid where we saw the magnificent Prado and all the treasures within. But we did not get to see Guernica. That night we returned to Segovia.

The next day I decided to go back to Madrid on my own to see the painting. Sadly, it was a Monday and I had to return home once again without having realised my quest. Undeterred I cut class again to go and see Guernica. When I finally got there and stood before that painting all I could do was cry.

If I had to point to one piece of art that has been the most influential in my work it would have to be Guernica. That piece moved me in such a way that I have continued to borrow themes, ideas and images from it throughout my art making practice.

Living in Melbourne

While waiting for a tram, I look up and see the mass of webs woven in the sky. There is a particular stop on Swanston Street that looks over the most beautiful building. It seems so organic with its overlapping segmented armoured bricks. Through the electric cables I can see buildings topped with cranes. Construction seems to be a constant theme in Melbourne. Construction seems to be a constant theme in my own studio. There I am constructing my own little sculpture empire. There are sculptures for the floor, walls, and sky. Each one of these little ideas is feeding in to the next.

I was watching a movie, quietly sitting, enjoying, laughing and suddenly I sat up. This artist had seen these webs too. There were cranes in the movie. These cranes were animated and moving about so deftly. The lines were so beautiful and poetic.

It is all about picking up stuff off the ground or out of the sky. Then I can take it home for further perusal. It is the way something moves across the sand or the colour in the stone. That is the kind of thing that makes me go bazoinkers. (see below)

Ktictionary

Bazoinkers (n. v.) —Becoming loopy over something that normally would not have a significant impact

Saturdays are spent at the beach, guarding and working to complete my bronze medallion so I can compete in surf boat rowing. For lunch we enjoy one of the great Australian traditions, a meat pie with lots of tomato sauce. Often we have too many pies, but it seems such a shame to just chuck them in the bin. Out they send me in to the bright sunshine, holding on to the slimy cellophane covered pies, wondering how long it will take me to finish the task. Within seconds hungry surfers, begging for a morsel, swarm me.

I believe in a universal proviso. All one needs is an idea and some materials to work with and anyone can make something happen. When I want to know how to hang my sculpture on the wall, I can look at the tree and see how the bark is attached to the trunk.

Unification with colour

In the model for Vertebrate I used a stick from a palm frond as an inner skeletal structure. The base was made out of fabric and the bone appendages were made of different coloured waxes, marking the different consistencies of each wax. Before investing the model I applied a layer of shellac to keep the wax modelling intact while inside the weight of the mould.

I applied the shellac because it is a technical requirement in bronze casting, but the model had taken on a glistening persona of uniformity. By painting the model all in the same colour, it stopped looking like wood, wax and fabric parts, but more like a whole sculpture.

Christmas tree factor

The same thing happened with Tha Wapper. When it was in the mould stage everyone said, no it is amazing, leave it and let it be just like that. Why would you go to all that trouble to change it when it is so incredible right now?

It is like making a bet that the horse will come in at least last place. At some point you get tired of that and take a chance at a bigger pay off and bet for the horse to win. I wanted to see what would happen after the next step, I wanted to take a risk, put the sculpture in the meld and see what would happen. Would it turn out like I planned or would it mutate into a teenage ninja turtle sculpture?

The casting process also brings out what I like to refer to as the Christmas tree factor. There are the presents under the tree that you know you are going to get because you asked for them and there are those that your parents give you because they are practical people and they like to give you new socks. But then there are the presents that you didn't know you were going to get. They are the most exciting ones as they can be good, bad, or just down right silly. The same principles apply in casting. And because I am using unconventional materials, there has to be some guess work in how it will look when it comes out of the kiln.

The underside of the mould for Scrabies was made up of the leftover pieces of paper from my lithographs. Because the paper is too thin, I knew that it would not cast that well. I would not be able to control the outcome of the casting process. But I like that aspect of casting, the unknown factor, which makes it as exciting as life.

Vertebrate model, 2004, wood, wax, fabric, shellac, 70x50x20cm ‘ By painting the model all in the same colour it stopped looking like wood, wax and fabric parts, but more like a whole sculpture.'

Tha Wapper, 2004, bronze, 125x30x25cm

Scrabies, 2004, bronze, 60x25x30cm ‘I like that aspect of casting, the unknown factor, which makes it as exciting as life.'

Reflection

A sculptor would not last long on the show Survivor. The lines would get blurred because they would not have that, much needed, alone and reflection time. There are times when I am struggling with my sculpture. I just want to know what to do with it? How do I listen to my sculptures?

The plan was to cut the legs from the mold. Then they can get organised, archeologized, and put back together again. Maybe they will just become a collection of bug legs. Maybe reflection is just another link in the chain? (see below)

Ktictionary

Archeologize (v. adj.) — To put into some sort or recognizable pattern as it relates to archaeology,

Where are the legs now?

The bronze legs for Vertebrate did not, ultimately, work with the rest of the sculpture. They seemed to interrupt the flow and I did not want to detract from the arc created by the spine. Because I did not use the legs in the sculpture, they have now become pieces that just kick about in my studio. During the course of the year, I have taken them out, turned them over, put them up on the wall, and even wondered if I should melt them down and use the bronze for something else.

A lot of work went into making those legs. Because of that, it makes the decision to throw them out very difficult. It is too hard to wrap my head around the idea of just tossing out a lot of hard work. This same philosophy can be applied to other aspects of my life: relationships, and even portions of this paper. But I know that ultimately I will come to a decision and go with that. Meanwhile I am still unsure so they are in a box under the table in my studio.

Leg Mould, 2003, bronze, 45x30x30cm ‘A lot of work went into making those legs; because of that it makes the decision to throw them out very difficult … Meanwhile I am still unsure so they are in a box under the table in my studio.'

Box, 2004, photograph, 10x15cm

Adaptation

There are quite a number of baby spiders in my studio. I am thinking/wondering/guessing that it has something to do with the fact that a whole box of huntsman spiders was let loose in the gallery as part of an exhibition earlier in the year. Now they are doing as spiders do and they are out there further populating the world and scuttling around in my studio. There is also a big spider growing/becoming in my studio.

The bowerbird has gathered blue bits of plastic bag to scatter around his nest. The magpie wove the bags in with the sticks that made up his nest. There are more pigeons in NYC than anywhere else in the North American continent. They have come to New York to eat all the rubbish. There are more peregrine falcons in NYC than there is anywhere else in the wild. They have to come to eat all the pigeons.

For a large part, birds have managed to link their survival to adapting and making use of humans and their way of life. Most of my ideas and materials are found in what is around me, like sticks from the ground and the cereal boxes from breakfast. My work is adapted to my way of life.

Bower Nest, 2003, photograph, 10x15cm ‘… most of my ideas and materials are found in what is around me, like sticks from the ground and the cereal boxes from breakfast.'

Volleyball is a three-step process: dig, set, spike

When the ball comes to your side, it is usually coming with great speed and velocity. At this point it is usually difficult to control so the best bet is to dig the ball, i.e. hit it to get it back up into the air so your partner can then set it with the control needed to spike it down and get that all important point.

Back in the studio there are many balls of ideas that can come from anywhere. Yet the first move is always a dig. Some of them can't be controlled and they find themselves on the sand. But then there are those ideas that can be set.

Why…

Because I felt like it…

I wrote the novel because I had a yen to do it. I believe this is sufficient reason to set out to tell a story.

Because I want to understand…

In order to make sense of my surroundings, both physically and emotionally, I collect objects and experiences. Back in my studio I take them apart and put them back together as something different. Yet I try to retain elements of their initial inspiration. Upon having created a new species, changed perspective, or transformed the object materially, new discoveries are made. These new findings cause me to scurry out of the studio to find someone to share them with.

Sometimes the discovery is so amazing, exciting and incredible I can't wait to share. Spider Chair is larger than any spider in the world, even in Australia. Spiders weave webs to catch flies for food. Sculptures are ideas woven together to capture an audience.

Insects and my favourite arachnids make up the majority of the species on the planet. They are so small on an individual level, but en mass they can be overwhelming.

Because I want to share what I have learned…

Communication only occurs, says Plato, when the speaker possesses an insight into the nature of the soul, and, moreover finds a congenial soul in which he can plant words of wisdom.

The perfect Christmas present is something that you did not know you needed but now that you have it, you can't live without it.

If you are open to life it will teach you everything you need to know. And if you did not get the lesson the first time, it will be repeated.

The lessons for me come with the technical challenges I encounter due to the various materials employed in my work. One big lesson that gets repeated over and over again is when I make long skinny things, like the legs that support the body of Scrabies, the chance of them breaking is very high. I either have to adapt my vision to something more suited to support the sculpture or accept that I occasionally I will have to do minor surgical repairs.

Scrabies model, 2004, bronze, 60x 25x30cm ‘…let's see what you are thinking.'

Because I am on my path…

My supervisor came by one day to find me sitting there, wondering what I was doing. He prompted me to get up out of my comfy chair and get physical, make something, let's see what you are thinking. In minutes, there they were, my thoughts out there in the middle of the studio to walk all the way around and contemplate from any angle.

The real gem of the moment was the feeling of delight that little burst of energy I get when those decisions I made in the dark are actually taking me towards the light. I know where I am headed; I am just not there yet.

Satisfaction presupposes the existence of a need or appetite. Intellectual curiosity, the desire to understand, is derived from an urge as basic as hunger or sex.

Because I want to inspire others to make a choice…

If you hate your job you should quit it. Why are you doing something you hate? If you hate your job what else will it manifest into hating? There is power in imagining and creating, the power of change.

Because I made a choice…

When you go into an ice cream shop you don't usually get a cone with all of the flavours available. You make a choice, usually based on what you like more than something else. The decision-making ability comes by trial and error. The same rules can apply to ones emotional, physical or environmental life.

In the beginning of sculpture making, the sky is the limit. As the ideas begin to emerge, each one bigger and more audacious than the next, I get more and more excited at the prospects. But like everything there are practical limitations on the reaches of my imagination. How much will this thing cost? Will it fit in my car? Sometimes I make choices about what I am making according to circumstance, and what I am left with is determined by what is parked in my driveway.

The writer (or sculptor) always knows what he is doing, and how much it costs him.

Because I was moved…

Guernica moved me to tears. The work had a physical presence that spoke to the power of the subject matter so big and bold, black and white. It was the soul's response to real and horrific tragedy.

Because I want to be a mover…

That is, you have to look at a piece of my work and feel it in your soul. If I can accomplish this just once in my lifetime, then I will have been a success.

I can be so critical of other's artwork, but I just want to be moved. I want to see things that elicit that knee jerk response, something that pushes me to speak, write, or make.

Due to lack of outrage in the killing of another man, Ossipon, a character in Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent, found himself in these narrated thoughts,

What if nothing could move them?

These words hit me. I was alone in my studio working, and listening to the audio book. The phrase stuck me hard, to my core. Like Ossipon, I struggle to move people. My desire is that my work will move people the same way the Rothko moved me.

Dartmouth College, where I did my undergraduate degree, owns a Rothko. I would go to it for inspiration, or when I was too tired to do my own work. Every time I looked at that painting it was like salve on my tired soul.

One day after too much work and too little sleep, I went over to see my friend, the Rothko painting. But, to my horror, it was not there. And worse yet, a garish, fluorescent, Frank Stella, had replaced it. All I could do was burst into tears. The security guard took pity on me and let me go into the back room where the Rothko had been placed temporarily.

Because I noticed other people doing it…

No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists.

Chako Kato looks to nature for inspiration, answers and material details. Simeon Nelson gets inspiration from miniature golf courses. Mathew Barney and his Creymaster Cycles left me with more questions than answers. It was too much visual information all in one go, I need more time to process things. Jill Orr is a performance artist. Christopher Koller freaks me out. His work is about aberrant behaviour in our society and it is supposed to get under your skin. The NGV has a Rothko and it is pink. Each one of these artists brings something that is relevant to my practice.

Because people want to be moved…

That was the form of doubt he [Ossipon] feared most. Impervious to fear! Often while walking abroad, when he happened also to come out of himself, he had such moments of dreadful and sane mistrust of mankind. Such moments come to all men whose ambition aims at a direct grasp upon humanity — to artists, politicians, thinkers, reformers, or saints.

When I make my own work I want to capture the viewer's attention to begin with. Once I have it, I want to keep it. As the viewer comes in closer to investigate this source of captivation, there will be details to reflect upon. I hope this will cause my viewer to move, physically, and walk around, finding other angles of approach. I want them to share in the sense of discovery and the delight I experienced while making the sculpture.

Scrabies asks the viewer to take a closer look at these objects that are hovering above a surface, which appears to be undulating. Scrabies begs the viewer to engage and ask questions about the sculpture. How does it stand? Aren't the legs too skinny?

Scrabies, 2004, bronze, detail ‘I want to share in the discovery and delight I found while making the sculpture. Scrabies begs the viewer to engage and ask questions about the sculpture.'

Because I want to understand my heart…

Art makes it possible for us to live with our instincts and desires.

Because love is not something that you ask for or expect, it just happens…

You get overwhelmed.  

It washes over you and only after you can't sleep or eat for a few weeks do you realize what it is.

Then you are giddy with love, and those euphoric effects it brings.

But then, reality sets in.

What is this really? What does it mean? How will this affect my life? Is this going to help with my hopes and dreams?

What about that sandwich I was looking forward too?

Will I have to share?

Love comes at you, to you.

It takes over you, whether you are ready or not.

Your only choice is to honour those feelings, or a small part of you will die.

It is that aspect of you that can be moved.

It is that part of you that is your core, the desire to get up in the morning without waiting for the alarm to go off.

A large part of my work is generated by the constantly shifting status quo of the people and activities that I love. Love, for me, is the biggest enigma of all and affects everyone. I take my ‘love life' to the studio. If I am mad, I make a picture of it and yell at it. If I am happy, I make a sculpture that is cute and cuddly.

The lithographs are the best representations of my love life, as they give a life and tangibility to these amorphous feelings. Only in retrospect can I realise what they are about.

All works of art are attempts to establish order in things, to give lasting vitality to amorphous feelings.

After making a lithograph I often put the proofs on my wall in the studio for further perusal. It usually takes a bit but then I can decipher the figures in the print to match them with the characters in my life: the spider invaders are my team-mates who swarm down to protect me, and help to heal me when life imposes its whims; the buildings represent my long lost loves; the drooping crane is I, longing for my loves, at the same time trying to rebuild.

House of Moland and Building Crane, 2004, lithograph, 44x28cm

Trying Too… and Kick It!, 2004, lithograph, 44x28cm

Zipping Along, 2004, lithograph, 22x14cm

Because I am not conventional…

Actually I was never too interested in what other artists were doing. It even disturbs my own concentration on my own problem.

Exhibition openings are hard for me as they are full of new stimuli and that can be over whelming. I like a more controlled environment. They are also not very good outlets for people with my kind of hyperactive energy. I went to one in NYC where there was a man riding a bike, he was sweating and muttering incantations about his dead mother. It would have been better for me if they had let me ride the bike.

Because I am aware of my surroundings…

I have always been very aware of how I make my work and what I find inspirational. Through that I have learned there are other artists who work like me, as there are also artists who do not. I have to remind myself that as I want to be respected for my approach, I have to do the same for others.

…Adamant that artists be approached on their own terms….Need to resist any temptation to fit people into boxes and categories.

Because my work reflects my personality…

My public personality is bright and shiny. My private personality is quiet, mysterious and subdued. If I am black or white, depending on public or private, then my work is grey, a mixture of my colors.

Because there is more than one answer…

Because learning does not consist of only knowing what we must or can do, but also of knowing what we could do and perhaps should not do.

The legs for Spider Chair had to be slotted into place. The legs were not made specifically for each slot. I tried each leg in each slot. The last leg to be fitted required the most work.

Practical Application

Offer up possible solutions, NOT absolute answers, let your viewer/reader come to their own conclusions. The artist rules his subjects by turning them into accomplices.

Lights

Sculpture is my experiences/findings organised in a way that people can understand. Out of my head the thoughts and feelings are put into words/visuals. In this way I can touch a soul, but not in an abstract way, in a real human way.

We learn by assimilating experiences and grouping them into ordered schemata, into stable patterns of unity in variety. They enable us to cope with events and situations by applying the rules of the game appropriate to them.

I also learn by gathering experiences and ordering them in the form of sculptures. It helps me to make sense of life events and ultimately I hope to share these findings with my viewer

My achilles heel of continued and pressing confusion is also my saving grace. It has prompted me to make sculpture as a way of searching for clarity and understanding. It takes bravery and self-assurance to put a confused self on the table. What if people run away screaming when they see the tangled mess of questions? But let me assure you there is nothing worse than sitting there alone, confused and in the dark.

This is like the dilemma for a parent and their child. Does the parent tell the child what they know, force knowledge and experience upon them, or let the child figure out all of life's mysteries on their own? Somehow I have to entice the viewer to believe me, show them, or I could just hit them over the head with my BIG HUGE spider sculpture.

Currently I am learning the value of getting to things in one's own time. It is being a sculptor guide vs. sculptor dictator. In my latest series of bronzes I have encountered the concept of presenting change in a familiar setting. My sculptures are a completely new species, yet they retain elements of where and what they came from, alluding to the familiar, lulling the viewer into a sense of security.

Importance of context

My first night in the Australian bush was very exciting. All the now familiar night noises of birds chirping and mossies buzzing, yet there was an occasional thump of the kangaroo bouncing around in the night. I accepted the rustling as part of the night because it was heard in the context of the other night noises but the kangaroo hopping seemed profoundly out of context, yet at the same time lulled me into a sense of familiarity.

Scurry is a piece of sculpture that I made. Mantis is an actual insect photo shopped into the slide of Scurry. One is woman made, the other is nature made. Once the objects have been transferred into the uniform context of a lithograph, it is even harder to discern which one is an insect from planet earth and which one is from planet KT.

Fake boobs are another example of man trying to mimic nature. By putting fake boobs in the exact same package as real boobs we are more likely to accept them as being real. It is the idea of presenting something new in the context of something familiar. All the bronze pieces utilise this principle as well. Each one of them has in them a real piece of nature that is cast along with imagined parts. Again in the model form it is clear which parts are real and which parts are imagined. However, by casting the whole piece in bronze it transfers all the different materials into a unified medium. This narrows the visual parameters. The viewer will no longer see wood, wax, and paper, but focus on form, light and dark contrast, and texture.

Details

Spider Chair underwent major changes throughout the process of making. I originally constructed it to have a housing box so that the arms could come flailing out, eek! Therefore the welding for the internal structure was not aesthetically important, because it would not be seen inside the housing. I had been inanely meticulous in the making of Tha Wapper. I thought it was because I had never worked with bronze before. However, as the sculpture began to take shape, I reminded myself why I have always been so attentive to detail.

As Spider Chair developed, it became the interior skeleton rather than the exterior housing that was important. This piece was more about connection and how the parts slotted together. The sculpture design seemed quite modular in how it was put together, and comes apart so easily. This was to be the perfect sculpture for any small apartment. It could stack up neatly under your bed leaving plenty of space for when you want to do your jazzerscise.

At this point if I used the original housing design, the crux of the sculpture would be hidden from the viewer. But now it was all about weld globs, hammer whack marks, sooty build up, and flashing. I had been so messy with my welds and the viewer might get ‘tripped up' visually by my sloppy technique.

We are conscious of only a fraction of the input into our eyes, ears, and skin. Yet the intake registers never the less.

What kind of ‘visual harmony' had I created? I thought I was working towards the idea of a visual flow and uniformity in the technical and material aspects.

This question takes me back to the details and context, there is a lot going on underneath the surface of the sculpture. And the attention to detail and correct welding technique was not the answer. The welds didn't matter. The visual flow did, the size did, and the connection of the slots to the arms did. I brought unity to the individual parts by painting the whole piece black.

Scurry vs. Mantis, 2003, digital Image, 10x15cm ‘Scurry is a piece of sculpture that I made, mantis is an actual insect photo shopped into the slide of Scurry. One is woman made, the other is nature made.'

Scurry vs. Mantis, 2003, digital image, 28x44cm ‘…it transfers all the different materials into a unified medium. This narrows the visual parameters.'

Visual lures

While you write you are thinking of a reader, as a painter, while he paints is thinking of the viewer who will look at the picture.

My sculptures usually have a visual lure, like an angler would have on fishing tackle, something bright and shiny to attract the attention of the viewer that then entices them to come in for a closer look. Once they have come in closer I can hook them with the worm, a detail that could not be seen or appreciated from far away.

The tips of the legs on Scrabies are highly polished in an attempt to catch the eye of the viewer. I am very aware that I am competing with quite a bit of new visual information. It doesn't matter if I have the most brilliant thing to say if I can't even get the viewer's attention in the first place.

Scrabies, 2004, bronze, detail ‘My sculptures usually have a visual lure, like an angler would have on fishing tackle, something bright and shiny to attract the attention of the viewer that then entices them to come in for a closer look.'

Spider Chair model, 2003, cardboard, sticks, fabric, paint, 60x5x5cm ‘Originally constructed it to have a housing box so that the arms could come flailing out, eek!'

Tha Wapper, 2003, bronze, detail ‘I had been inanely meticulous in the making of Tha Wapper.'

Laughter

Men have been wiser in very different modes; but have always laughed in the same way.

Everyone likes to laugh. If I get my viewer to laugh at my sculpture, they will probably like the work. It they like the work they are more likely to listen to what I have to say.

Humour has always been a big part of my life. People marvel at how easy it is to make me laugh. I noted to one friend who wanted to be a comedian how I was not a good test audience. Trophy is meant to be a funny piece, a true parody on how I grew up in west Texas, hunting anything that moved. As I make up words and critters for my world why can't I apply my own practiced philosophies of hunting, shooting, and mounting?

Picasso made a bull's head out of metal handlebars and a bike seat; I did the same in my studio, but suited it to my heritage of the long horn cow. I made it because it is funny. I am dealing with serious and sad issues in my studio. Laughter can put someone at ease. They can be more comfortable and able to embrace the ideas that are harder to get a handle on.

Texasso, 2004, metal bar, bike seat, pony clip, rubber bands 75x65x30cm ‘Laughter can put someone at ease.'

Trophy, 2003, fake fur, cardboard, recycled timber, 60x35x20cm ‘As I make up words and critters for my world why can't I apply my own practiced philosophies of hunting, shooting, and, mounting.'

Conclusion

My working methods are not traditional like those of the old masters, following a legacy in process and subject matter. They are more like that of Picasso, innovative work in a variety of materials and techniques. There is no real hierarchy in material choice; just what is at hand or what seems to best express the idea at that moment.

Deborah Butterfield is a horse person. She lives, eats, and breathes everything to do with horses. She lives on a horse farm and rides her animals every day. Consequently, her work is about horses and all things relative. I love life, the adventure and the mystery of it. I live my life to the fullest and choose to make my art about my life. This is in contrast to someone like Arthur Boyd whose work has focused on a single theme of order and how that can be found through disorder.

While my work has not been created in a social vacuum, there is a deeper relationship to the more immediate environmental concerns, like that of Falling Water by Frank Lloyd Wright. He incorporated the physical surroundings into his designs, making the house a true integration of its location. My work directly reflects its environmental context, down to the minutia of what I eat. My work is in contrast to that of Mies Van Der Rohe, who in his international style created the ‘Mies Box' that he just plunked down in complete disregard for what was around.

Frank Stella is an artist whose work has a political agenda and commentary. My work is far more primal and basic, like that of Magdalena Abakanowicz. We are simply trying to explain some of the mysteries of life though investigative modes in our artwork.

My work is derived from feelings, life and a sense of destiny. Bourgeois, Smith, and Johns work from a similar place. My reasons for making art read like a life mission statement; art making is a conscious objective.

Bibliography

Books:

Allaby, Michael, Animal Artisans, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1982.

Barr, Alfred and Juan Larrea, Guernica, Pablo Picasso, Curt Valentin, New York, 1947.

Bourgeois, Louise with Lawrence Rinder, Drawing and Observations, Drawings and Observations, Bulfinch Press Book, New York, 1998.

Castleman, Riva, Jasper Johns, a Print Retrospective, Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1986.

Clavell, James, Shogun, Random House Inc, New York City, 1986.

Conrad, Joseph, Secret Agent, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, England, 1963.

Eco, Umberto, The Name of the Rose, Vintage, London, 1998.

Eco, Umberto, Post Script to The Name of the Rose, Harcourt, Brace, and Jovanovich, San Diego, 1984.

Elliot, T. S, Towards the Definition of Culture, Faber and Faber, London, 1963.

Forester, E. M, Howard's End, C. Nichollas and Co. LTD, Great Britain, 1910.

Hesse, Herman, Steppnwolf, Batam Books, Sydney, 1963.

Hoff, Benjamin, Tao of Pooh, E. P. Dutton, New York, 1982.

Koestler, Aurthur, The Act of Creation, Hutchinson and Co. LT, London, 1969.

Krukowski, Wojceich, Magdalena Abakanowicz, Center of Contemporary Art, Warsaw, 1995.

Read, Herbert, Art and Education, F. W. Cheshire, Melbourne, 1964.

Rose, Barbara, Magdalena Abakanowicz, Harry N. Abrams, New York, 1994.

Russel, F. D., Picasso's Guernica, Thames and Hudson, London, 1980.

Smith, David, Sculpture and Writings by David Smith, Thames and Hudson, London, 1968.

Sterry, Paul, Spiders, A Portrait of the Animal World, Universal International Pty Ltd., Gordon, New South Wales, 1996.

Sullivan, Graeme, Seeing Australia: Views of Artists and Art Writers, Piper Press, Annandale, New South Wales, 1994.

Tacey, David J, Edge of the Sacred: Transformation in Australia, Harper Collins, Australia, 1995.

Wolff, Tom, I am Charlotte Simmons, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, New York, 2004.

Magazines and Journals:

Ottmann, Klaus, "Frank Stella's Prince of Ambiguity", Sculpture, vol.23, no.5, p.35-39.

Preece, Robert, "Dialogue: Simeon Nelson", Sculpture, vol.24, no.2, 2005, p.23.

Stunda, Hilary, " Conversation with John Scott: Playing it Straight, Up Side Down, and Backwards", Sculpture, vol.23, no.8, 2004, p.37.

Van Keuren, Philip, "A Second Conversation with David Bates" David Bates Poems, Dunn and Brown Contemporary, Dallas, Texas, 2003, p.11.

Exhibition List

1. Arachae 2005 bronze 30x40x30cm

2. Mickey Mouse House 2004 lithograph 42x34cm

3. Learning to Fly 2004 lithograph 42x34cm

4. Journey 9 2005 charcoal, pastel 183x300cm

5. Journey 8 2004 charcoal, pastel 175x255cm

6. Tha Wapper 2004 bronze 125x30x25cm

7. Scrabies 2004 bronze 60x25x30cm

8. Spider Chair 2004 lithograph 58x42cm

9. The Three 2004 lithograph 58x42cm

10. Kick It! 2004 lithograph 58x42cm

11. Trying Too...2004 lithograph 58x42cm

12. Scurry vs. Mantis2003 lithograph 43x54cm