Three Chalks and the Truth (well, sort of)

It's been an odd day. Good, but odd.

I put a drawing in the post today. It is so nice when someone loves something I have created. Lately I have been doing quite a few drawings in sanguine (that's a type of red chalk), white chalk and charcoal. It is an intriguing combination. You end up with all sorts of other colours coming through, either as a result of physical mixing or optical mixing. I'm not at the standard of Mark Calderwood with this technique, but I am working on it and having a lot of fun in the meantime.

If you want to see the master of this, well, you could guess who that is.

Leonardo da Vinci, attr. Portrait of Bianca Sforza, c1490. Red, black and white chalk and brown ink on vellum

And yes, really, there are only the three chalks and brown ink. The olive sleeve, the gorgeous flesh tones, they just come from those three colours. As I keep saying to people, "use it as an inspiration, not as a yardstick".

There is also a new project lining up. If it comes off it will be hard work but could be quite lucrative. It'll only go for a month, which makes the hard work easier to face. Unfortunately it depends on other people. We are split over when the thing will happen, and that could make all the difference dollar-wise. A longish meeting didn't resolve the matter, but someone else will probably have the final say, which could be a good thing in end.

That's a bit cryptic. Hopefully I can reveal the plan in a few days. And hopefully it won't be a huge anti-climax.

And then I came home and washed some more fleece (that will go on for days).

Princess Crocodile is on this post for the simple reason that it is playing a lot in the house and the car at the moment. It is driving my poor son crazy, but my daughter the Steamgoth loves it. Finally I have someone else who shares my love of electro swing.

Only For Sheep

After madly working on some birthday pieces I had a break today. No art, just a day full of fleece.

I love fleece. I love sheep, actually. I am wholeheartedly with Ellie Linton from John Marsden's "Tomorrow When The War Began" - sheep are misunderstood and underappreciated.

There are about nine fleeces awaiting processing. Most are from Suffolks, two are from Wensleydales and there are a couple of Merino fleeces as well. All of them come from my brother's farm, so I have a passing acquaintance with the animals, which is nice. I picked a Merino to do. The fleece comes from Merino 42, aka Baldric.

Baldric pre shearing. Some of the Suffolks are in the background.

It didn't start well. The fleece was well rolled, cut side out, compact but not compacted. And I could not find the end. If you can find the end the fleece just rolls out into a sort of sheep shape and it makes your job so much easier. Not today. I ended up with half right way up and half upside down and dags in two places (the daggy bits are from around the bum - they have the poo in them, and a fair amount of dried urine. You don't want to keep them).

Eventually it got sorted out but I was mainly grading just by feel rather than having position on the sheep to help. Shoulders and flanks are generally softer and longer than the britch, and you don't want the tummy wool as a rule - felted and full of weeds. So you skirt first (removing the outer edges, ie bum and tummy) and then you grade. I usually grade into three categories. One is the longest and softest, generally very fine. Three is coarsest and shortest, but still usable (makes good sock wool and warp). Two is in between.

Halfway through grading

There were a lot of second cuts in this fleece, which was quite frustrating. I came across a whole section that was beautiful - clean, white, so very soft. And full of second cuts. That means that the shearer hasn't gotten close enough on the first pass and comes past again. So what should have been a lovely long staple of about 7cm ends up being cut into two or three useless lengths. It happens. No one's perfect. But did it have to happen on such a soft section? It had to go.

And then I wash. And wash. And wash.

In warm water and Lux soap flakes to start with, to get rid of the sweat and lanolin and most of the dirt, and then in clean warm water to rinse out the soap and any remaining dirt. And believe me, sheep get dirty. The water is chocolate brown the first time. Even if you think the fleece looks quite clean, the water goes chocolate brown. Alpacas are worse. They LOVE dirt baths. Alpaca fleece plus water equals mud.

I'm at the second rinse of grade 2 at the moment (I wash in grades), and it is so beautiful. The whole fleece has a lovely crimp (that means the fibres are wiggly, not straight, which means any yarn I make will be quite elastic) and it is going so very white. Great to spin, easy to dye, a pleasure to knit with.

First rinse after washing. Already cleaning up well.

Next I will lay it out to dry and then pick over it to get out any weed seeds, sticks, what have you. And then it will get put in a pillow case and stored in a drum. I can get three fleeces to a drum. And then it just has to wait until I am ready to spin it.Which is another story.

I Should Have Known...

Yesterday I went to Eckersley's in Erina. I needed some supplies and I was in the area. I should have known better.

Their range of paper is pitiful. Quite frankly, Riot Art has a better supply, which isn't saying much. Can I get the tint I want? No. Can I get the type I want? No. I may have to follow the lead of the ever resourceful Mark Calderwood and tint my own.

I went through all their pens for the one I needed. No joy. I can buy my pens from a stationers in Newtown, but not, it seems, from Eckersleys, despite their claim to be a speciality art supplier. I couldn't even see the last thing I wanted.

So I decided to front the counter and ask. "Do you have Sakura pens?" (in case I missed them somewhere).

"What are they?"

I explain. No. They don't. They have Staedtler, Rotring and Copic. Good pens, but not the ones I want.

"Do you have silverpoint supplies?"

"What's silverpoint?"

I explain slowly. The woman looks at me like I have sprouted an extra head or asked for automail or something. I'll take that as a no then. I did end up buying a sketch pad in a nice grey tone, just so I didn't feel I had completely wasted my time, but there's a part of me that keeps saying I shouldn't have rewarded them for being useless.

Time to trek down to The Rocks then, to a real art supplier. Parkers. The Aladdin's cave. The ultimate destination. The shop that makes me feel like I have died and gone to heaven. Even if they don't have what I want they will know what it is and when they are getting it back in, regardless of what I ask for.

They may even have the paper I want. I have but to ask.

(I had thought of including Jim Diamond's "I Should Have Known Better", or Elvis Costello's "How to Be Dumb". Instead I have gone with the Peatbog Faeries. At least they stop me grinding my teeth.)

Jobs for the Boys (and Girls)

I have just spent the morning at my son's school - at a Careers' Fair. This is the second year the school has run this. It's a primary school, not a high school. Running a Careers' Fair.

The school is really actively engaged with the children. There are creative arts and music programs, dance and sport programs, breakfast club, a homework club, a choir. Plenty of support for children and parents, the school garden is back under way after several years' hiatus. The school is in a low socio-economic area and also draws from new estates, so there are a range of lived experiences in our student population. Like all good public schools, it teaches inclusion, acceptance and equality of opportunity.

We have an amazing Deputy Principal. Not everyone likes her (I do, very much. Our school needs her) - she does not suffer fools, she is forthright sometimes to the point of bluntness. She doesn't gild the lily (and some parents don't take kindly to being told the truth about their child, but that's their problem). But she knows her school, the students, the families inside out.

When I was asked to take part last year, I did ask her why we, a primary school, were having a Career's Day. Turns out there are children in our school who do not have a single adult in their family with a job. Going back generations. There are children who do not know an adult in regular employment, or an adult who is happily employed. Some know only that work is where parents go to earn barely enough to keep them all together, and the work is hard and the workplace is unhappy. There are some who only see work as a miserable burden. How can a child have aspirations for themselves if this is all they know?

So we have a Careers' Fair. So children can meet adults who love their job. So children can meet adults who have a job.

All sorts of people come: electricians, fire fighters, vets, pilots, engineers, personal trainers, musicians (we didn't have one this year, which was a shame), people from the university, kids from the high school agricultural department to talk about farming, nutritionists, doctors, the guy who runs the local supermarket (he's popular - he gives away lollies), bakers, scientists, more. All sorts. And me.

Last year I felt like a fraud. I was asked to come along and talk to the kids about being an artist. Having been ill for so long, nothing much was going on for me. What was I supposed to tell them? No one buys anything, if you get sick you don't get paid, don't do it if you want to eat (unless you happen to be married to someone with a regular job)?

No, I didn't say that. I talked about all the things artists can do. I had design drawings from cartoons, films, computer games, some of David Landis' excellent Desktop Gremlins, Rob Ives' paper automata. There were some of my own things, but I kept the focus on other people's things, vocational paths, that sort of thing.

My little display this year.

It was pretty much the same speil this year. Although this year I didn't feel like a fraud, and I had more of my own work on display, and less of other peoples', and I talked about what I have been doing (two exhibitions do a lot to bolster confidence). Some of the children already knew me as I did a series of workshops earlier this year with my son's class. And I felt I could really say "find what you love and don't let anyone stop you".

Last year I had a violinst next to me, so I had the most glorious music for the day. This year it was dancers. Well, acrobats really, regardless of what they said. They threw each other around and bent over backwards. It was like being next door to Cirque de Soleil. Lots of fun.

... while on the other side of the room...

Some of the kids are pretty venal. When they realised I didn't have freebies to give away they walked off. Which suited me fine. Others actually wanted to know what I do, how I do it. They were fascinated to think that their computer games and films NEED artists. Some loved the idea of drawing comic books. Two children spent most of the time looking through my Escher book and talking about how art lets people see impossible things.

There was one girl who questioned that art can be anything more than a hobby. She got directed to the Hobbit art and design book and the Assassin's Creed concept art book.

At the luncheon afterwards one of the teachers came up to me and said she had asked her children what they liked best. The answer came back "the dancers and the artist".

How could I ask for more?

Cardboard Colonies

As a lot of you know, the kids and I went to camp a few weeks ago. It is a camp run by the Gifted and Talented Association. We attend the one at Morriset each year.

It's cold, but in bushland so rather beautiful. Mists and fogs in the morning, clear bright skies at night - if it isn't bucketting with rain. Lots of stars because there isn't much in the way of artificial light.

The children do workshops and treasure hunts (learning by stealth). They run around together and play, and have a great time. And are expected to help, even with just keeping their own cabins tidy. On the Saturday night there is a talent concert - not competition. Concert. So everyone who wants to gets to show what they can do. It is always interesting and often breathtaking. A couple of the parents take part. I usually sing a silly song to give the kids a laugh.

As a parent I love going. I know my children are safe, so I can chill out. The last few years I have sat on the large back verandah, looking out at the fields and trees, sewing or spinning or knitting. Other parents sat too, reading, crafting, whatever. And we chatted and got to know it each other. Given I was still quite ill when I first went, this was such a blessing. I actually got a holiday of sorts. We, the parents, are all expected to pull our weight - help prepare and serve two meals at least, keep our kids in order between workshops and get them into bed on time, help out where necessary, but it isn't onerous. And as a side benefit we get to know each other. I have some people I can call friends, even though we only see each other once a year (we all say we will catch up in the meantime, but it never seems to happen - too much life gets in the way).

A lot of the children there, while gifted, have a diagnosis of some sort, and it is useful as parents to compare notes, discuss strategies, school successes and failures, life in general. It is also great to just hang out with other adults who aren't going to judge you becauce of your children.

I had plans this year with my verandah time. I was going to do lots of sketching. It's one thing to draw an inanimate object or a posing model. It is quite another to draw people doing whatever they are doing. Even when people are just sitting around chatting, they are quite active. Their hands move. A lot. And so do their heads. Expressions change second by second. And then they get up when you haven't quite finished. And so on. I was really looking forward to the challenge. It didn't happen.

The verandah was workshop space this year. My friend, Mark, was running it. Mark works at Taronga Zoo, and plays in a number of bands on the side. He is a brilliant guitarist. We all love listening to him while we talk. We make him play till his fingers bleed (well, not quite, but we all push it a bit - he is fantastic). This year he got asked to help out big time, so no music. There was supposed to be a helper, but he spent his time playing in the workshop, so I stuck my hand up and ended up to my eyeballs in cardboard boxes.

The workshop involved lots and lots and LOTS of cardboard. And sticky tape. And scissors. Everyone reading this who has kids understands that this is child hog heaven. The idea was that the children had crash landed onto a planet and had to build structures for a colony. Pretty quickly (as in, within a couple of minutes) Mark and I banned the construction of a TARDIS, and established that the planet was NOT Gallifrey.

The first group built a lot of weapons and defence posts. My daughter slacked around because she thinks she is now too old for this, and chatted to the guy who should have been helping but spent all weekend building a large laser gun for the colony (he's a Marvel and Doctor Who fan, so they had a lot to talk about, but still...). Everyone was very protective of their structures and very proprietorial. When they found out that the structures had to stay, and be fair game for the next group, there was a fair bit of angst.

The second group crashed on the planet where there were the remains of a previous colony. Use what's there to build what is needed. Weapons and defence posts became farm buildings, a recycling centre, boats. Or even BIGGER weapons. The teenagers in this one didn't argue about building a TARDIS, or sit around half-heartedly constructing something while talking about fan things. Instead they built a mysterious (and large) monolith, complete with strange runes. Again the kids who built stuff from scratch were very protective of their creations. The ones who had altered existing things were eager to see what happened next.

The last group had the same scenario as the second group. We saw boats morph into sleeping quarters, the recycling centre became a trading store, my son built an ATM that spat out "money" and cardboard credit cards (I wish). The monolith became, to the dismay of its builders, a rocket ship to move the colonists further out into the universe. The weapons posts became even bigger. And one smart lad built a solar power generator, adorned with old CDs as solar panels.

They had a lot of fun. But what did I learn?

1. Weilding a large knife (for quickly cutting cardboard boxes - the kids drew where they wanted the cuts) automatically gives you a lot of authority

2. The children who head straight for the scissors before anything else probably shouldn't be allowed to have them

3. Every colony group has at least one anarchist and one saboteur

4. Not every child gets that sharing is a two-way thing

5. You can never have too many cardboard boxes. Or egg cartons. And the old CDs will run out first (then we find out who the negotiators are in the group).

At the end of the last day, when everything was packed away and cleaned up and the kids were off doing the treasure hunt (clues to follow, lots of running and thinking and searching), we parents got the verandah back. I did some drawing, made a new friend and showed someone how Zentangle works. Mark meanwhile got out his guitar and worked his magic. And I finally got to do some sketching. Just the one. And yes, it was a challenge.

Mark, Megan Hitchens, 2014, graphite on buff sketch paper

I put it to the ultimate test - showed it to one of Mark's sons. If you want to know if you have a good likeness, ask a child who knows the subject. Children are brutally honest. Fortunately I was greeted with a big smile of recognition and a "wow". So that worked.

And I have had enough of cardboard for the time being.

I've Done What?

It's been very stop-start here. As have the blogs. Spectacular family crises, flu, and then stress migraines. Oh, it has been lovely.

Every time I tried to paint, or draw, or even read, I ended up with a migraine and felt like I was going to scream (if I could stand to) or vomit (if I couldn't avoid it). So, airships still unfinished, an intriguing book still sitting there, taunting me, portraits half done (couldn't get a likeness for toffee - I suppose a splitting skull is not conducive to really looking at people).

Oddly enough I could draw mandalas. Must use a different part of my brain. Go figure.

In the past things have gone okay, or well, and then the wheels have come off and I have lost momentum, or got too caught up, or just given up. Strangley, it hasn't happened this time. Everything that went on did slow me down for a while, and I had to give all my attention to what was happening in the family. But that has abated for the time being and so I am grabbing what time I can.

And the result of that is a new exhibition. This is actually my first solo exhibition. Yes, it's in a cafe, but so what? There's plenty of foot traffic, the owners are nice so I know I am not going to be ripped off or treated like crap, and it's in Sydney, so hopefully there are more people willing to get out their wallets. Gallery Cafe, 74 Devonshire Street, Surry Hills. Great food, excellent coffee. Go there.

Tangle - Errantry, Megan Hitchens, 2014, black ink and graphite on heavy cotton paper

I have put in the Zentangles again because I can produce them quickly and relatively cheaply, which means the artworks can be priced affordably. With luck at least some of them will sell. I have to take two last works down tomorrow (larger scales oils, just for something different - a nude and a still life. They'll be hung separately from the others).

This feels slightly odd - me getting myself organised to do this on my own. My mum put me on to the cafe. It is one of her regular haunts and she knew they were looking for something new. But it was up to me to ring and talk about my work, sort it all out and get everything down there. I ended up with 48 hours to get everything finished, framed and delivered. So I am thoroughly exhausted, but in a good way. I hung most of it on Friday (we ran out of hooks), and Mark, one of the proprietors of the cafe, said he would finish it off on the weekend - see? nice people (there were only five more to go and I showed him how I wanted them). So there you are, I curated the thing too. All on my own. That doesn't sound much, but it is a big thing for me. I am used to working with others. What happens in childhood can continue to shape us as adults, but only if we don't acknowledge it, or if we let it. All my childhood I was told to not make a fuss, not draw attention, so it is strange to be the star of my own show. And a little unsettling.

But the really big thing is that I have broken a lifelong habit. I haven't let life overwhelm me yet again. I haven't waited for someone or something else to come up so I can tag along. I haven't given up. I haven't let things slide.

This time I have actually got something done.

Here Comes Another One

I have a new exhibition opening tomorrow! (that's Monday, 25 August, 2014)

This one is at the Gallery Cafe, 74 Devonshire Street, Surry Hills (take the Chalmers Street exit from Central Station and just go straight ahead).

Yet more abstract Zentangles, some mandalas using Zentangle patterns, and a couple of oil paintings for good measure.

The Gallery Cafe is very good. Great food, excellent coffee (love their hot chocolates). Mark and Pearl who run it are lovely (they ran away from the circus to open a cafe - not kidding, it's true). So go and get something nice to eat and drink, and check out the art work on the walls.

Zendala - Seek, Megan Hitchens, 2014, black ink on heavy cotton paper