I guess I should fill my extensive audience in on the status of the garden. After all, much of this blog began around that subject, as it provided many of the images I laboriously adapted, modified, varied, amended, changed and created, and sweated (is that a word?), agonised, worried and fretted about.

The neighbours' decision to remove one of the tallest and most obstructive trees from their backyard provided the necessary impetus to, firstly, toast the great George Harrison with a rousing rendition: Here Comes the Sun! - and then plan the overhaul of the previously less serviceable garden beds. The joy! du dn du du.......and ah said, its alright. The anticipation! Oh my god, the work(!) involved in pulling out existing shrubbery junk and replacing with deep, sleeper-walled, composted, delicious earthy, mulchy stepped gardens, just waiting for as many seedlings as I can afford.

So, the good news is its now full up (no wonder I haven't had time to blog!). Zucchini, cucumber, beans, snow peas, eggplant, strawberries, pumpkin, mandarin, curry plant and the mighty tomatoes. I'm hoping, come fruition, my shopping days are over for the summer (excepting clothes - don't have the room for a cotton crop - and shoes).

OK - last time it had been forever - now its even longer. Only a week or two to go until the final class and the semester is finito. The web pages are up and done - and I almost feel like I know Dreamweaver now (I've been telling any IT dudes that I'm writing code and they roll their eyes & go "Yeah, course you are").

So, I'm going to add in some pics that I didn't end up using in the book. Below is THE watermelon I grew last Spring. Actually, I can't find the photo of the watermelon - I have just tried to log on remotely to work network where the photo truly exists, but I accessing the email archive is proving impossible. So, instead here is a picture of my niece, Isabella, who took the photo of the watermelon I grew!

Goodness - its been forever. Not that I haven't been doing some "stuff" - stuff-a-plenty happening - just haven't had the time/equipment required to blog. Second semester is all about designing a web page and that's been the focus. I've sketched the basic layout and shall attempt the hatching of during this evening's class.

Success this evening - have now printed out four pages for the book. Two from last week & I don't mind them, but I much prefer the two from tonight. I think cause I managed to photoshop an image delightfully (at least delightfully to me!) and if there was more time (or I was doing this at home) I'd like to work much more on the first two. The lemon I like anyway, not cause I worked a lot on it: I just love the colours.

Tonight is printing prac. At least first attempt. Shall see how things go before the arrangement and layout.

I've put this stuff in cause it has been some "stuff I do". I happened to see one of the Star Portraits episodes this week with Rolf. (Link: http://www.starportraits.co.uk/; not that the webpage is interesting - its not - its just indicative if you are unaware of that which I write). It was one I hadn't seen the first time round (Bill Oddie). Its not the famous people factor that interests me in this televisual feast; it is firstly that you get to watch Rolf, and secondly you get to watch HOW different people work with paint. Or pencil. Or charcoal, or paper, or computer or whatever it is they work with. And HOW painting the very same thing can be depicted in ways entirely differently, yet be completely recognisable.

I've just read probably the most exacting phrase I've ever heard in relation to Rolf - "he does not carry the cultural cachet of other Australian exports"(Farah Farouque, The Age), which probably accounts for the look of fright and the cautious backing away of people whenever I pontificate on the man's genius. Most people grow out of their childhood idol, and I did too, as a childrens' entertainer, but while doing that, Rolf went and surprised me by existing very successfully as something else as well - an impressive artist. And all the while he was simply being like my dad - a man who wanted to entertain and didn't care what adults thought of his garrulousness; he knew kids loved it.

This week in class I need to get to the images. I've got some saved on the stick, which have been through myriad filters and actions and distortions in the "shop", only to have mistakenly flown off the Mac, or trashed themselves in front of my widening, frightened eyes as I watched hours of adjustments progress back to the beginning image. Hard to explain the sweat, learning and creativity expended in an image that remains the same.

Finally, the support for the Book is complete. And here's how it looks.

Closed.

Now it awaits only the images, the pages, the pictures, the narrative (if there's to be one - undecided), the purpose and the raison d'etre behind its existence. Shall get to.......

And Open.

A number of pictures of the book's creation will be listed as we go. Here's the first. There's stuff all over the table - important stuff like the pages; the covers; the ribbons; the paraphernalia (actually, that's just the collective term for the "important stuff"). Anyway, careful observers will notice the nearly empty jar of shellac, which has covered layer upon layer upon layer (told you it was about food!) of the front & back covers. I could well have kept going layer upon, etc, cause I reckon there's fifty billion layers there, maybe more. I lost count. What's not in the pic is the most recent book-closing mechanism (collection of ribbon); those in shot were actually used to line the concertinaed pages.

Have new ideas now for aforementioned foody book. We begin in the garden. And the images are of the food as it exists in its first generation - seedlings. All gently watched over by the dinosaur (and Fluff - lurking). Broccoli, silver beet, snow peas, cauliflower (out of shot), curry plant, carrots, lettuce (also out of shot), and the remnants of the corn (good name for a movie no? Remnants of The Corn! Or was it Children?), from the spring planting.
The corn was surprisingly educational. Not one cob achieved edibility status; they all tried their hardest and gave the impression they were doin' their developing thang, but come harvest tahm (all of a sudden I have a southern american accent), nuthin but a darn'd empty cob on the inside! I'm told its due solely to not enough water. Well. Of Course! At least it wasn't cause I lost the ancestral farming gene.

Not sure whether to begin The Book with this image or not, but it is my favourite foody art piece. Its a selection from a larger painting (unfinished circa 2006) and deserves particular and interesting adjustment.

So, here's the stuff for the book. Been out all over town today trying to find things that will bring my Artist Book (as I see it this minute) into existence. Gradually, the "as I see it" bit changes, peculiarly as I fail to find the right stuff.

I found the paper for my mounts. Gorgeous colours & patterns. Found the supports for the pages. Found new support when the previous ones proved unfeasible for page turning. New support turns out to be a charming vinyl record book, with sleeves designed for easy selection and guardianship of its contents. Mind goes back to how to adapt previously unfeasible supports in order to make it work, as I realise I can't bring myself to damage any records or spoil the book's original and intended purpose. Its not that I have an interest in vinyl records, prior to those of the 50's & 60's (& these records are all classical anyway); nor is it that such a thing is in any way special to me (I wouldn't have purchased it had I not intended to "render it unrecognisable") but its just too amiable & defenseless to harm.

Evening classes

Our assignment involves the creation of an Artist Book. Becoming familiar with a variety of digital techniques feels like it is going to take me forever (glad its fun). I'm thinking food. The smiley lemon is food suggestive but maybe its just cause I'm hungry. Paintings, sketches, prints, images of food hanging already on my walls at home, are crying out for manipulation - been sitting there doing nothing .....and entering my head now is that the Artist Book Pages are going to have to smell! Delicious, of course.......mmmmm.... aromas on aromas on aromas.

I'm thinking too of incorporating my vegetable garden, which is fairly new (only spring & summer old), yet produced a watermelon the size of a small basketball. Or a pretty large baseball. Or a gigantic golf ball. Or a massively HUGE marble..... ok ok. But taste! Superb. Photos to come as I ensured before & after (the cutting of) shots.

Some More

Its back to class & all new computers. (I WANT one of these new keboards btw!) I've put up the banner now and am keen on putting more & more stuff on here; Stuff I Like (as well as Stuff I Do).


I've added the image of the Man In Black above. It was the basis for the profile stencil painting of JC I did last year on a panel. The photo was one of a series from the American Recordings phase - Johnny's last - and is attributed to Martyn Atkins.

LemonHeads

Its been awhile. Mainly because I only do this stuff at class on a Monday night (not having a home computer). Anyway, this evening I've managed to photoshop a couple of images, the first of which I'm putting up on the blog. Its a Lemon (with a captial L!) that's come all the way from the Milne Orchards of Narre Warren (check out the most recent Lonely Planet Guide under unmissables).

Now, I've anthropomorphised the bejesus out of it (not sure that's an applicable term for a food group - care) and its ended up looking rather twee, but I don't mind. It could have come out looking abstract, but then it would belong on Stuff Other People Do; not Stuff I Do.

Louisiana

This painting is not called Louisiana. Its called Avenue, but it now resides in Louisiana, USA, so I've called the post Louisiana. It was the first painting I sold, and while I miss it in the paintflesh, its image still brings many lovely things to mind.

The Beginning

This is the first of many posts as I chart the course through Digital Imaging.