A DAY IN THE LIFE

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ARTIST-IN-RESIDENCE – CHARLOTTE BRISLAND

‘A Day in the Life’

6.30am – Wake up call crocodile

Get up before the kids get in trouble, make breakfast, eat breakfast. This morning its BBQ crocodile as we’ve chosen to live temporarily in Florida.

8.45am – Mad panic, scramble up the street to school, through the school gates, bell

8.50am – silence

8.55am – running, thinking, sea.

The sea and my feet fall in and out of synch. I watch as the waves move, lap, rise, fall, breath, deep green this morning, one of the most expensive colours on the spectrum next to pure pigment lapis lazuli; cobalt turquoise. The sand and pebbles have gone orange, a deep yellow, cadmium. The sky teases blue behind heavy grey cloud. It might rain.

11am – The studio is tidy so I quickly pull out all my images, pens, books, paint, brushes and think. Today there are no blank canvases or large works underway. I’m working on smaller pieces on card.

rabbitpic

The lines begin, entwining forming, growing, spreading through the white page and become….uncertainty, abstraction, contemporary, a figure, a tree, a rock, shade, there’s some renaissance in the sky.

And then it speaks.

‘Let’s do something different today, I’m tired of the same old same old, let’s branch out!’

‘What? Where’s this all coming from? What about that eclectic thing we discussed?’ I ask, ‘Couldn’t you just be a bit more visceral, cut and paste from moments in Art history?’

‘Not today. Today I’m thinking about fairy tales, why not do one of a hedgehog, kittens maybe?’

‘That wouldn’t be very good, too reactionary. We have to stick to the program, be consistent. Anyway, why kitsch all of a sudden, we aren’t thinking of adorning chocolate boxes suddenly?’

‘I don’t want to be monochrome anymore’, the painting huffs stubbornly.

‘Well, see, that’s just irrational.’

Silence.

‘Ok, look, how about for today we use a bit of colour? It might be alright if its small scale’ I coax.

Smiles.

‘I’ve only got pens in colour, so what shall we do about that? It won’t even be a painting. I’m a little concerned about change,’ I say.

‘You know, just begin and see what happens, you’re an artist, and it will just grow.’

‘Thanks,’ eyebrow raised, cynical, wondering where all this is going.

So I begin with a thick black pen, and some narrative grows into it. I finish.

illustration1new

‘This looks like an illustration’ I observe.

‘It’s still monochrome,’ grumps the picture.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll add some colour…there, some red, green, yellow…ok?’

illustration2newsmall

3pm – collect children, playground screams, happiness, school bags.

Let’s go to the park, it didn’t rain after all.
Chats with other parents, a jewellery maker, an illustrator, an actor. All taking a break with small children, we’ll get back into it soon.

4.30pm – get in from the playground and start dinner. The children draw, I join them briefly between pots and pans. Sophia lends me some new pens of hers for more colour variety; I think the picture will be pleased.

7pm – book and bed, gentle snores follow.

8pm – tired.

Look through some Art magazines and apply for a few competitions, exhibitions. Watch a little TV.

10pm – sleep.

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