It was not a week for painting, alas. It was a week for attending to my angry infected eye. Nearly better.
My narrow focus meant I briefly dwelt on details from paintings I did years ago. I do not have a favourite, but I do have favourite parts. This is a sugar bowl next to a butter pot, basking in the red glow of a bottle of chilli oil. It is a corner of a kitchen still life from another time. I like it. Do not know why, but I do.
I spent the week winking at strangers because of a hideous eye infection. No time at the easel. Plenty of time lying in the dark, boiling with frustration. I dug up an old drawing from years ago. It is a horse of course.
The Government has updated the flood maps for Darebin. It is a land-locked area. I had thought it likely high-and-dry, but it would seem I should be buying a dinghy.
This is Darebin Creek after a rain storm, swollen with run off from all the streets of Preston. More particulate than liquid. Tom Roberts painted it in a quieter state. I expect this is the nearest I will get to doing a Tom Roberts.
I remember many of my ancestors (well, my grandparents and their coevals) with great affection and respect. However, none was ‘noble’ in the peerage sense. So when I saw a tiny ornate frame (10 x 12cms) at the Op Shop, I thought I should manufacture an ancestral portrait for the home, in the manner of an unfinished portrait by Godfrey Kneller. Below it is.
I find the demands of capitalism do rather crimp my artistic development. My painting efforts are generally crammed into Saturday afternoons, so there is little time to develop what might be called an artistic philosophy beyond ‘get it done.’ Ironically, capitalism does, however, force the execution of some fine, expressive pictures. I include some below from the front wall of a tyre shop in Carlton, right here in rainy/sunny/rainy/sunny Melbourne.
Family portrait (of someone who was not in my family, and indeed probably persecuted my family).
Whoosh! Now, that is modernism
Hermes’ winged sandals in the service of tyre sales. Not a line wasted here.
The shop had a ‘buy three, get one free’ sale on car tyres. What, I asked, if I wanted to replace the tyres on a Morgan three-wheeler? Could I buy two and get one free? The proprietor asked if I really had a Morgan three-wheeler. I told him there was no need to be so literal and narrow-minded, and fled on my unwinged sandals.
Seems they grew some mighty big peaches back in 18th century France. Also with character and variegated colours, if Chardin is to be believed. The peaches at our local supermarket are almost a different idea: they are of one tone, size and shape. They taste like a mouthful of cotton wool.
Another effort at a Chardin this week. A source of great solace at a time when it seems our technology is advancing at a rate that is outstripping our character, philosophy and morality.
Phil McAloon's paintings 