Keeping a journal helps you stay on track.

Two layers of white tissue silk with light blue wool fibres felted between and on top.

Striving for excellence motivates you; striving for perfection is demoralising. -Harriet Braiker

Pole Dancing
Tuesday28 February 2006


That's me above, attempting to practice at the clothesline . . .
which just ain't the same as a real dancer's pole, believe me.

Well, I exchanged my birthday gift certificate for the lesson at the pole dancing studio. There were 22 of us taking the introductory class. At 45, I was probably the oldest. The vast majority of students were slender young 20-somethings in short shorts and scanty singlets. The similarly clad teacher was gorgeous, graceful and muscular.

It was hard work . . . It was also fun, propelling one's self around that pole. But my shoulders are still aching 48 hours later. I'm grateful to have built up some upper body strength since I joined the gym two months ago. Could've done with more, but!

We also learnt a short lap dance routine in the class. It was less strenuous than the pole dancing and so I enjoyed it more. I hadn't realised that most lap dancing actually takes place off the, er, observer's lap. A lap dance is like a private little dance routine in front of a seated spectator. With maybe a little time spent on his lap. (Enough said. This blog is rated G.)

Years ago I could do the splits. The old joints don't flex so far these days. I can still undulate and shimmy, but my weekend performance would better suit a musical comedy than a gentlemen's club.

If you think you are physically up to it, book a taster session yourself. Here's the website: www.poledivas.com.au

Constraint
Saturday 15 February 2006
In my previous entry I suggested that restriction of the size of my working space during a feltmaking class had actually yielded positive results, forcing me to work in a way that actually increased my productivity. Hmmm, now take a look at the desk in my home studio:

Not a good look, is it? And in this instance, the restricted working space has a negative impact on my productivity. Most definitely.

You know I love quotes. Well here's a very apt one I re-discovered a few days ago:

It's hard to be fully creative without structure and constraint . . . Want freedom? Get organised. Want to get organised? Get creative. (David Allen)

Time to get creatively organised in my studio. So I started the tidying process this evening. And, as I worked, I was struck by a profound realisation. (This was a real Eureka! moment - are you ready for it?) I have come to call myself an "assemblage artist" as a means of justifying the practice of HOARDING every bit of scrap and junk that drifts my way. "I can't throw away that bit of wrapping paper - I am a collage artist!" and "See that little pile of squashed, rusty bottle tops lovingly gleaned from the supermarket carpark? I'm saving those for a found object piece, of course!"

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

I sometimes wish I was brave enough to give it all away. Well, most of it anyway. The junky bits. The crappy scrappy bits.

But I love the vintage look, the distressed look. Crappy is good. Sigh.

An 'awakening of joy'
Wednesday 15 February 2006
I've been through an amazing period of immersion in art and craft. I've done workshops in fabric surface treatments, creating on canvas, polymer clay mosaics and nuno felting - all in the last five weeks. Every teacher was fantastic. Yesterday I wrote down this quote I saw posted on a bulletin board at my son's school:

The supreme art of the teacher is to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge. (Albert Einstein)

My tutor in Nuno Felting was Polly Stirling, who actually created and named the technique. Nuno Felt involves the application of wool fibres on fabric - usually silk or cotton. Polly came down from northern New South Wales to teach for Victorian Feltmakers.

I caught myself complaining after the feltmaking workshop that, because I'd volunteered to share a table, I didn't have enough room to make a big project. (Most of the ladies with tables to themselves were making large wraps.) But you know what? Because my projects were restricted in size, I focused on making samples. The result was that I tried out a wider variety of techniques than the people with room to spread. Most certainly, I got as much joy, creative expression and knowledge as anyone else there. I can always make larger pieces here at home!

A Gift that Keeps on Giving
Friday 10 February 2006
Last November my friend Robyn let slip that she secretly wished she could have singing lessons. So what did I give her for Christmas? Yes, a gift certificate for vocal lessons. If you read my earlier entries, you'll know for my birthday a month later Robyn gave me a voucher for pole dancing lessons . . . Not that I'd expressed any secret desires to pursue that sort of thing . . . but what a highly imaginative present! (I'm booked in for the 26th, by the way, so pop back by the blog to see how that goes.)

Just like the synchronicity of the blank canvas from Monday's entry (see below), gifts of tuition are popping up all around me. Another friend gives me an art class. Someone else tells me he's giving a mate a personal development course. My godson gets a defensive driving course from his girlfriend for his 18th birthday last week. And - hey - isn't that a brilliant gift for an 18 year old?!

Our lives are filled with "things" but can a person have too many skills and experiences? A gift voucher for a class or course is a thoughtful - and incredibly creative - present.

Make a list of people to whom you give birthday gifts. Next to each name write the person's interests, and see if you can generate some ideas of appropriate classes they might enjoy taking - even if it means hiring a professional to give a one on one tutorial.

The Blank Canvas
Monday 6 February 2006
Funny, isn't it, when you become conscious of something and then it keeps reappearing over and over in your life? Most pregnant women and their partners experience this phenomenon - suddenly, every time they go out in public they see other pregnant women, whereas beforehand, the pregnant women were a rarity, lost in the crowd.

For me in the last week, that phenomenon comes in the form of the blank canvas. Not that I've seen lots of blank canvases since I posted my previous blog entry (29 January), but the concept of a blank canvas and what it can symbolize has been raised repeatedly in conversation. In most instances, in my mind and in conversation with others, we are using a blank canvas as a metaphor for the future, or for a potential project. In my own mind, I am aware I add another shade of meaning: The fear of making your mark on the canvas. The fear of taking action.

It doesn't have to be a canvas. Substitute "the blank page". Have you ever wanted to start a journal, and you get a beautiful blank book to write or draw in, then you can't bear to start it? Have you ever bought a length of cloth or a sheet of beautiful paper you can't bear to cut into? A packet of clay you don't dare open? Why do we doubt our abilities so much that we don't even trust ourselves to make the first mark?

I think collage can be a useful "therapy" in getting the creative juices going. With collage, the background layer (of paint, paper, whatever) is just the background layer. I honestly don't believe you can screw it up. Why? Because it exists to be covered up - completely or partially. The background is the background. One of its functions is to get you started. It doesn't have to do anything else, really - not even influence the colour scheme, because a background gets covered up. Last year I was a student in an art journaling class with Jacinta Leishman. First we each created an accordion book signature (the folded paper that would make up the pages inside the cover). The next thing we did was put backgrounds on the various pages. We didn't have to know what those pages would ultimately be filled with. Planning is useful, but it isn't always required as a first step.

Once you have a background on the page or the canvas or whatever, it is no longer blank. It is no longer scarey. It has become an exciting invitation to do more. You can translate this idea into your art and craft practices, and you can translate it into your life, too.

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