And the cat. She leans through the stair railings and drinks the water.
Tag: mosaic
‘Sweet thing’ {making}
It’s just one little moment that gets me moving. Once that moment hits, watch out – this is where I transform into a bull at a gate. The impulse is deep and profound. I immediately start fabricating this girl with glass and smalti from an image I’ve drawn years ago in one of my sketchbooks. Without noticing it before, I’ve ended up filling it with ladies. Life drawing was always my thing, but why always girls? Youthful ladies, faceless, with long limbs, engaged in nano snippets of life.
I imagine ‘young Emily’ in these moments and am drawn to recall how I felt at this age. I remember being these girls. I did these things. In my hometown I remember spending hours laying in the grass, with the sun warming my skin, eyes cast upwards to bluebird skies – and spending time just absorbing the shapes of the clouds – and the closest I’ll ever get to meditation.
I would naturally empty my mind once the sun hits my face, close my eyes and quietly engage all senses. From time to time, past conversations and moments would seep in. I would shoo them away again. A constant tug of war between remaining present and overthinking things.
I drew her. Me. Back then.
I moved away from the sun on my face, lying in the grass and a head full of empty thoughts and song, no more cloud absorbing and became a girl with a career. I moved to the big city where I was affectionately labelled ‘country bumpkin’, ‘sweet’ and ‘naive’- because I was. My street smarts hadn’t kicked in yet. I believed people were good and kind, and ulterior motives didn’t exist. Had no idea about networking, instead just doing my own work.
This happened. I was at a ball in a big puffy skirt like this, but black tulle. I was on the fringe of turning my back on the big city, and moving away. After years of racing in traffic, working hard, and complicated weekends – I longed for simplicity and ease. A slower life again. The undercurrent at the ball was beyond me, and here I was again. ‘Naive’, gangly and ‘sweet’ – I no longer wanted to understand the language of the city, I didn’t want street smarts anymore.
So here – still a work in progress, she is. (She was nearly named ‘Something’s changed’ a nod to Miss Sharon Jones.) ‘Sweet thing’ won out, her title inspired once again by Van the man (Van Morrison). Listening to this song – I instantly feel warm, comforted, any troubles are instantly put aside, and I remember, the days of lying in the grass.
The greatest view {making}
Here I am, getting back into it all again; inspiration to create images of the gloriously mundane is no challenge for me.
My latest offering –
‘The greatest view’ 2016, Emily J Hogan.
Reclaimed marine ply, glass, beads, mirror & gouache.
I imagine I find the simplicity of these images satisfying due to my ease of moving in and out of a fairly meditative state, on a daily basis. I need white space, and if I am in a position of being in the midst of chaos, which is a realistic summary of my work days – the switch goes off. Emily is officially off the grid.
‘Walking on a tightrope’ {making}
This is about the metaphorical teetering that goes on in life. Treading on eggshells, delicately inching forward, in a vulnerable and exposed stance, maybe there are strange feelings and butterflies taking over your insides.
The practice of meditative behaviour. The tightrope walker must pay close attention to both their physical and emotional state, as both situations are precarious and dangerous.
Industrious {making}
Today was a studio day, the weather was glorious, the music was Brazilian chill, the dog was by my side, rather than her hysterical human licking obsessed self, the chickens were digging in the garden. The conditions were perfect.
And, there was a tradesman arriving, we all know how that goes. An entire day is wiped waiting around for the knock on the door, announcing they are here – just 3 hours later than expected.
My story was a happy one today, after 6 weeks of tardy arrivals, today 8.30am did really mean 8.30am.
I revisited this old mosaic and got stuck into the background with some black gouache. And I was instantly happy, I may have found my aesthetic. Finally. Mixed media. I love that this marine ply had been something else, repurposed. Then once the black paint hit the bumpy, flawed wood – I felt like I had finally found it. Something I would like for myself.
Then I started on this glass panel. This door is over 100 years old and comes from a sweet country town. It was brought to me, to love. Which I do. I built it into my studio as an exterior wall flanked by full glass windows.
One of the yellow panels loosened on the trip, and smashed into pieces. Rather than repair I decided to stick a clear panel into the space and set about filling it with glass bits and pieces. A work in progress.
The steps {treasure}
Spring is here and helping the sweet little wild thyme that grows between mirror, grout and concrete; make its way again through tiny passages and cracks.
Disco steps at their finest.
Red & white spots {collecting, making}
As far as I am concerned, this is the only spotty colour combination that counts. The end.
Hipsterville aka Perth {treasure}
Give it up Australian cities. Perth has ‘cool’ all stitched up.
Between Brad Eastman and Anya Brock – colour, murals and budgies are covered.
Funny signs in shop windows. We don’t mind that we can’t peruse your goods, you are closed for sleeps – for goodness sake. In log font, no less.
Northbridge has beautiful alley ways full of art. The food is exquisite too. This is out the back of La Cholita in Northbridge.
There is a piano in the tunnel at Freo Beach, incase you feel the need for chopsticks.
Mosaic traffic light base. Yes please!
Festive houses line Fremantle streets.
Clearly, every kind of art is highly regarded and valued.
Way cool imagery. Just because. The bigger, the better.
Massive street art inspiring me to work bigger myself. My new favourite place.
‘A Falling Through’ {making}
I made her in January.
A knee jerk reaction to Summer, swimming, and polka dots (of course polka dots).
I spent a weekend almost by myself, driving – which to me is my definition of heavenly. Driving my car, listening to my music, shirking all responsibilities for 48 hours. An amazing sense of freedom.
I bought some vintage dominoes, and I sat on the side of an ocean pool, dangling my feet in the water. It was the most beautiful day. I wanted to jump in with gay abandonment. I didn’t. I watched other people enjoying the freedom – I hadn’t come prepared. The water was beckoning. I have a reputation of rebellion when it comes to the costume constraints surrounding water, and have in the past just jumped in anyway. Clothes and all, This time I couldn’t. I was being careful, watching myself, and I had to get back on the road and continue my journey. The further away I got from this pool, the more I had to fight myself not to turn around and just jump in that damned water! I really wanted to, and I felt the conditions would never be the same, never that perfect.
Anyway, I carried on, and had the most jam packed amazing weekend surrounded by people I love, reconnecting with the city that was my home BC (before children). I ate, I drank, I was merry – and topped it off with an amazing haul from Rozelle markets.
Even with all that distraction, this image didn’t leave me.
I knew this was my next piece.
I had to sit on my hands until the festive season was over – there was a lot to do, as the ‘festive’ with extended family was happening at my house.
Every now and then I would sneak half an hour with this girl.
She still wasn’t finished.
After Christmas the ocean calls.
So, down the coast I headed with a gaggle of children, and m’lady tucked in amongst the beach towels.
I snuck in some time to stick the last few pieces on.
Then with an audience of at least 10 friendly caravaning kids. I grouted.
And here she is.
This happened {making}
Easter time. This happened.
We decided to stay home for the weekend, instead of our usual stint visiting the coast.
4 whole days. Bliss.
What is a girl to do with 4 whole days?
I was hanging out some washing, always a good start to feeling organised and on top of things. I had hung the clothes out, the sun was warm, and for the first time this year all 3 children were in the sandpit. The dog too. Digging for treasure they buried for her. There were an assortment of exploding volcanoes, sand pies, and then things took a turn for the worse. T-shirts were stuffed with wet sand, laughter erupting around me. Then came the hose, spraying walls, dogs, kids. Then the sand throwing. Everywhere.
I was aware all of this was happening around me, and was happy in my bubble of bliss while the blood curdling shrieks of three small people were spirited and happy – and the sand wasn’t landing in my mouth, the world was fine. Bleeding eyeballs and tears were the only thing that could bring me out of my trance.
While all this was happening around me. I had found a stumpy purple pencil at my feet (I cannot stand purple, I adore violets – but the colour is always the last I would choose in a line-up of the rainbow.) I had picked up this pencil and started drawing on the wall of the house. Swirly lines, flowers, a vine of sorts in a deco style. I love my deco.
The noise around me still loud with laughter. A good sign. I grabbed my nippers. I started cutting little green pieces of glass for the stem. Bits of mirror too – because we all know I love sparkle. I glued over the purple line. Two hours had passed with no child related incident. In fact the smallest one had joined me and asked if he could stick the green bits, green is his very favourite colour.
Terrific, I had a personal assistant for my project!
He stuck around for at least two hours. The vine was nearly done. Then we started on the flowers. He stuck on all of the flower stamen within reach. One. Two. Three.
Then the inner petals. Then he cut and run, he went for a bath.
I carried on over the next few days with eager assistants, until the sun went down.
This didn’t feel arduous.
This was as relaxing as a bath, as relaxing as a weeding funk,
as relaxing as floating on my back down the river.
All in all this was a very organic process,
my planning skills are severely lacking as any friend will tell you.
Picking glue off my fingers has always a moment of pure zen for me.
Flying by the seat of my pants has always been my mode of transport.
I had sand, I had water, I had squealing around me – and look what happened.
{work in progress}
Emily Red Studio 