Amongst the visual arts, sculpture is one of my favourites. I also love the interface between two and three dimensional art. The piece above sits high above an exhibition space at Te Papa Museum of New Zealand in Wellington. The words are from a World War I recruiting poster. At the time, New Zealand was a British Dominion and was swift to follow Britain in declaring war on Germany and its allies. Almost ten percent of New Zealand’s population served in that war, and this tiny country of around one million souls suffered a casualty rate of 58 percent – amongst the highest of any nation in the conflict.
With some embarrassment I admit that when I took these shots, I didn’t note down the name of the artist, or the work – something I feel quite bad about as I know how important it is to acknowledge the creativity of artists.
I loved these two pieces; elaborate coils of wire attached to a white wall. As the light changed throughout the day, visitors experienced different patterns – and indeed different sculptures.
Kerrie Poliness is a Melbourne-based artist. This installation at the Dowse Art Museum, Lower Hutt, NZ consists of lines drawn directly onto the walls with black marker pen – creating the illusion of three-dimensionality.
Saturday: showers, some heavy and thundery (Met Service).
It’s so often said that the eyes are a window to the soul, the words are in danger of becoming a cliche. Yet, we are remarkably good at assessing character from facial expression – eyes perhaps most of all. We all know about smiles that move a mouth, but never quite reach the eyes.
Let’s be clear; I’m not a hoarder. I regularly and cheerfully have somewhat frenzied clear-outs of my stuff. But I am a gatherer of all things useful; fabric, craft materials, pretty papers, paint and brushes, sewing patterns.
I used to sew a lot. Back in the days when clothes for New Zealanders were made in New Zealand and a small market meant limited choice; when you could almost guarantee someone would be wearing the same frock as you at any event. So Kiwi women tended to be pretty handy with a sewing machine and a pair of pinking shears.
These days I don’t make clothes any more; in fact I don’t do much sewing at all except running repairs on the boy child’s favourite skate clothes and replacing missing buttons — which is why I was rummaging in the sewing box today. Somewhere in amongst the buttons and bindings and scissors and spare bobbins I was sure I’d find some red thread and a fine needle.
And a chance to photograph some of the contents of my due-for-a-clear-out sewing box.