Why paint another landscape? Why return again and again to this Margaret River property and its pristine forest and woodland?
The lack of open scenes or vistas in this landscape forces me to be present with immediate surroundings—the soil, stones, plants, spider webs, insects, birds, rotting and living trees. I have been gaining an appreciation for small things, seemingly unimportant details. In the spring, small flowers bring a startling brilliance of colour variations to the bushy undergrowth. I have been entranced by the tiny flower forms and their intensity. I had a realization a while back in the forest when I discovered the rich colours I enjoy using are to be found in the flowers, plants and soil—even magenta, French ultramarine, violet, golden yellow, cadmium red—it’s all in there in the spring, gifting those who take the time to slowly look and search out these gems with their faces turned to the sky, the sun. There is a lot of spindly branch growth, spiky grass tree and dry crackle of leaves and twigs. These linear qualities are best expressed with thin brush and ink work which give structure and delineated tension in their graphic mark making.
There are designated paths through the forest and this perspectival line gives depth and direction as a contrast to layers of visual chaos and tatty undergrowth. Perhaps it’s the human element made visible. Another human presence are the paddocks and vineyards. I also enjoy the border edge of the forest as it ends with a firebreak and vineyard cultivation meeting outwardly simple features of trees, grass, vines, gates and fencing. This strikes me as visual poetry and what interests me is giving them a voice. The parrots, roos and kookaburras move through the forest and have a fleeting presence that enlivens it with their movement. Whole mobs of roos bounding away in the paddocks also give the scene another quality.
Once can build up some sort of connection with plants and objects by returning to sit with them again and again. When back home in my suburban house, I can close my eyes and see specific plants and trees and I find this comforting. It reminds me of the story of the Little Prince who cultivated his relationship with the rose by watering it and the fox which he tamed by sitting nearby. The small spider orchid is intimately connected with its companion plants and shines for a while in their company—why not celebrate its gifts with paints and inks?