February 10, 2014 § Leave a comment



This is me with 3am feelings and intense dreams about the life and desires of a 19 year old horse rider living in the 1940s Lithuanian tablelands.

I want to be there, on a spit between sea and tidelands. The dream also saw me pushing a chair and trying to thread a burnt out lightbulb. The cliffs of the tablelands were dark rock cascading to the sea. In one part I saw the men in a game of horse-riding, maybe polo, played on the smooth flat grass. I saw a map, an atlas opened with the long lines of cliffs skirting around the very tops of the earth. The 19 year old should not have been riding, she was a woman. You could tell though by the dirt on her leather boots… scuffed slightly. I was changing the light in the hallway of a university.

I have been feeling down lately and I am not sure why. My show opens 21 May and I am speaking to the two lovely artists who will write some words for a catalogue. Trying to tease out of myself a lot of answers. I will be in Iceland in November I know that. What else I know.


all the eyes closed

November 6, 2013 § Leave a comment



I am so in love. With the work I have been making, and other things. The bitterness and sadness of the start of the year an the people like poison who tried to hurt me, these things are no longer front and centre. I regard them now with acceptance, some things I experienced so I could learn.

Next year will be Iceland again and Finland. Invisible City is almost done, save for some recent sickness of mine. In Finland I will be at Mustarinda for art-making and exhibition program which I have been invited to do.

Next year I have a solo show in Melbourne and a group show in Sydney. L from Iceland visited the last few weeks, and I loved the feeling of continuing that connection. S emailed me about a show and working together and I remember his beautiful nature… and beautiful glass work.

I feel like I have many eyes, perhaps this is from my delirium of the last few days being quite sick. J brought my neon work back from Melbourne on the train. A commitment to artwork I am eternally grateful to him for. J slept over on Friday, and I felt this level of intimacy that has been missing from my life. Even if it is as simple as someone sharing the space they sleep. That trust … I realised I like friendship like that. No expectation, just trust.

I spoke with N on ‘face time’ haha – but video chat I have realised is so powerful. I miss him so much. He hopes to visit in January, an event I feel like i have waited 13 years for.

The beautiful cold climates. These things we do for each other that are selfless. The artwork, the collaborations. I live for these things. I am happy.


September 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

You can smell it today. It is coming inside our building, inside our protected glass and concrete cube in the middle of the city. I am getting flashbacks to 2001-02 when there were bad bush fires in Sydney, especially in the Blue Mountains where I lived. The way it got in your hair, your clothes, your mind. The smell of threat.

This morning was windy and warm as I was making my way to work. It was overcast. Before I rose I could hear the wind and saw the subdued light from my bedroom door, and I assumed it would be cool. I had not remembered the flames then. I got to work and spoke about the warm wind and the bringing of spring, or summer. The longer nights of light, the feeling of being embraced by the air.

I have been having so many olfactory memories lately. This morning one also made me think of a Prince song, and then remembering spending time with J so long ago when I took photos of the red paintings, or the band as it was. Fires of the heart. That are not even embers anymore. Black dust kicked by your foot.

Then warm nights in Springwood. In one of these photos Jayde (who is 17 or so now) wore a red dress which was made for me when I was a child. It has smocking, and is soft. In it she sits in the backyard which was that time alight and filled with smoke.

tree doubtingthomas float2

Neon & life

September 2, 2013 § Leave a comment

The show opening at Kings ARI in Melbourne went well. As with all installs there were anxious moments (mine) regarding lighting and balance between works, and horrible visions of broken neon all over the floor… I took lots of install shots with my medium format, and I should have that film back at the end of the week. My friend Karen took this with her Future Phone though:

Neon sculpture of outline of Prophetess Mountain, Iceland

Prophetess Mountain, 2013, Neon on aluminium, 150cm x 100cm, installation shot.

Working in this medium is interesting. I have some other ideas, but maybe fluros would be as good.

Coming back to Sydney on Saturday night, it is strange how silent and calm a plane full of people can be towards the end of the night. The row I sat in, had no window.

Yesterday I rode out to Cronulla and back, via Sans Souci and the green cycle paths through the mangroves. About 60km. There were some interesting smells of dirt and the sea, and the sun which made me think of Adelaide. The government there have been planning to tear down the house I grew up in, my father’s house, to widen South Road, a main trucking corridor. Dad says maybe this won’t happen if the libs get in the next election. Thinking about it makes me so sad… the house has featured in so much of my work, let alone my life.

“The smell of jasmine. The colour of the roof on the old boarding house in Eveleigh, the same red turned dusty pink in a warm sun set as my father’s house.”

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Going to Tasmania soon, for MoNA, visit UTas and check out the art school there… possibilities. Still feeling like I don’t belong anywhere. But having the sun come in the door to my room is a comfort. My Yashica Mat 124 is being fixed as well, another camera for me to work with.

Next year Is Finland, Norway, Iceland, USA, UK… maybe Lithuania. Next month is the video works. One is about industry and repetition, and execution of tasks, one is the snow storm as celestial event. Two visitors soon. One from Iceland, one from the US.

I also saw my friend Lea Donnan‘s show at Kudos recently – this is what I wrote to her, ” It was mesmerizing, and yes a little emotional for someone who knows the town. There was also this.. aggressive futility to some of the actions – so overt, powerful, using cars, guns, big things – but then exposing fragile cracks, bodies absorbing a gun kick-back, the ice that crumbles while wrapped in a blanket, the refuse and things left behind…”

This has become a mish-mash… I won’t ever stop hating others until I stop hating myself.

July 7, 2013 § 3 Comments

kelseyredadelaide b5 b6 hothouse mein skagastrondkk


pictures of people and things of the last journey round the world.

Art and Crying

June 30, 2013 § 2 Comments

Doug Aitkin

Doug Aitken – new ocean cycle

I have finally got around to posting the collection of art and crying stories that people sent me. I hope I have not missed any. You can send yours to

The rain always sounds like forgiveness

June 27, 2013 § Leave a comment

(east fjords, iceland, 2013)

I opened a book tonight. In it I found flowers I had saved, pressed between the sheets. Found flowers again found in America, wildflowers. Yellow, yellow, purple, maybe a muted green.

In the book also I had written:

Vespertine. Attenuated. Alluvial. Coalesces. Penumbral. Redolent.

Time becomes ecstatic. Temporal expansion. Revelation that eludes temporal time. Sediment of misery. Indifference.

Sediment of misery. That stuck with me. It felt murky, and unlike words I would ever say. Where would I have experienced such a sediment. It must have been some American inspiration, words to help me see what others had seen. Anyway. Sally Mann, those are her words. Describing the pull of her images and process in Deep South.

Blue-sensitive film.

I sometimes worry photography is too realistic, too hyperreal. With digital and all. I  m iss the exchange with light, the murkiness, the unabsolute. Using time and intensity and pitch and chemicals and silver and shadow and forbearance, filters, glass, aspects of light as the day passes, accidents of chemistry, accidents of mechanics. Age of materials, indecision, sabotage. Which make something real of the moment, unique, manipulated, tools and materials. 8 hours to get that image right in the darkroom. Alone with the image, with my hands on it, watching it bolt red hot from lens to paper. Feeding the chemicals. Looking for the grain. Plus then minus the magenta (strongest) or yellow (weakest).

Breathing all the time. Camera breaths, darkroom breaths, print breaths.

Sediment of my memory.

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