The Dream House Cycle
When I was a child I was given two dollhouses - for my fifth birthday I received my Mother’s 1940s dollhouse that both my parents had finished and restored for me in a seventies fashion, complete with electric lighting.
And for maybe my tenth birthday I received the much desired 1980s “Barbie’s Dream House”.
The Dream House Cycle were begun when a period of extended “lock out” began for unvaccinated Victorians. that saw bodily autonomy become a centralised (and at the same time much-ignored) topic central to the Covid-19 vaccine rollout involving mRNA derived vaccine products as a response to the Covid-19 coronavirus.
In 2020 the novel coronavirus named Covid-19 caused first an epidemic is Wuhan, China and then a rapidly increasing global pandemic affecting every continent and country except Antartica from 2020-current time.
Memento Mori
A memento mori is an artwork designed to remind the viewer of their mortality and of the shortness and fragility of human life. These pictures became popular in the seventeenth century, in a religious age when almost everyone believed that life on earth was merely a preparation for an afterlife. A basic memento mori painting would be a portrait with a skull but other symbols commonly found are hour glasses or clocks, extinguished or guttering candles, fruit, and flowers. - TATE Gallery
“Death…it is an unavoidable part of life. Yet in modern human culture it’s a taboo subject, discussed only when necessary, and even then usually only in hushed whispers. Americans, in particular, are devoted to perpetuating the fantasy that you can stay young forever and live indefinitely, the narrative of eternal life scribed by theologians, who now pass the torch to transhumanist futurists and Big Pharma.” - The Occult Museum
Memento Mori is a philosophical term that reminds us of our transience on Earth, and serves as a warning to prepare ourselves for whatever other realm awaits us. During the Victoria era the reality of death was embraced and the deceased was often immortalised by means of post-mortem photography and mourning paraphernalia.
This current body of work is an exploration of this somewhat antiquated tradition of mourning symbolism.
Modern society has a difficult relationship with death. As a young woman and trained grief and loss volunteer support worker, I spent many years supporting families with terminally ill children - using the arts to assist the journey of parents and siblings through the illness and death of their children or siblings, to honour the memory of those who had passed through remembrance ritual, and to assist in processing and releasing their grief.
Many of these families were isolated by their experiences of death - alienated and dispossessed by society.
In The Denial of Death, Ernest Becker writes: “Man is out of nature and hopelessly in it; he is dual, up in the stars and yet housed in a heart-pumping, breath-gasping body that once belonged to a fish and still carries the gill-marks to prove it. His body is a material fleshy casing that is alien to him in many ways—the strangest and most repugnant way being that it aches and bleeds and will decay and die. Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with atowering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order blindly and dumbly to rot and disappear forever.”
Our relationship with mortality has been the subject of countless philosophical works, sculptures and paintings, songs and poems, cults and religious rituals, sacraments and prayers; it is also our greatest point of avoidance.
In this era of pandemic and increasing authoritarian governance, our “death-fear” makes us vulnerable to the predatory nature of capitalist venture and the controlling power of others; Terror Management Theory (TMT) proposes “that a basic psychological conflict results from having a self-preservation instinct while realizing that death is inevitable and to some extent unpredictable. This conflict produces terror, which is managed through a combination of escapism and cultural beliefs that act to counter biological reality with more significant and enduring forms of meaning and value.” - Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, Jeff Greenberg and Sheldon Solomon
Ernest Becker argues most human action is taken to ignore or avoid the inevitability of death.
It is this premise that forms the basis for TMT. TMT provides a framework by which we may seek to understand the anxiety experienced by individuals, communities and societies regarding death and mortality. It also provides insight into how such primal fear can be used to control and manipulate in a commercial and political capacity.
Pictured below are The Three Graces and The Pearl -an example of “sentimental jewelery” and of mourning.
The Three Graces
The Victorians were fond of sending covert sentimental messages hidden in flowers, gemstones, and cameo carvings. This tradition began somewhat earlier, during the High Renaissance, period but can be traced back through antiquity. The Three Graces or Charities were a popular theme of the Hellenistic revival through the late 18th century; their association with mourning can be gleaned from the below paragraph:
“All that we have to remember is that the bounty bestowed by the gods upon lower beings was conceived by the Neoplatonists as a kind of overflowing (emanatio), which produced a vivifying rapture or conversion (called by Ficino conversio, raptio or vivificatio) whereby the lower beings were drawn back to heaven and rejoined the gods (remeatio). The munificence of the gods having thus been unfolded in the triple rhythm of emanatio, raptio, and remeatio, it was possible to recognize in this sequence the divine model of what Seneca had defined as the circle of Grace: giving, accepting and returning.” Pagan mysteries in the Renaissance. Edgar Wind 1958
One of my favourite Renaissance Philosophers and an influential Humanist, Marcilio Ficino, also wrote: “All the parts of the splendid machine (machinae membra) are fastened to each other by a kind of mutual charity, so that it may justly be said that love is the perpetual knot and link of the universe: amor nodus perpetuus et copula mundi.”
Victorian Mourning Jewellery is most often associated with the Victorian period, popularised by Queen Victoria’s very public mourning after the death of Prince Albert in 1861.
For the next 40 years, until her own death, Queen Victoria wore nothing but black, and commissioned special jewellery pieces to commemorate Albert, as well as other beloved family members who had died, such as her mother and daughter, Alice. Many of these pieces were made from black stones like jet and onyx, and some incorporated a lock of hair or a photograph of the deceased, which were all design elements that became popular among the masses, though many opted for cheaper black materials like black glass (‘French jet’), enamel or vulcanite.
Mourning pieces weren’t necessarily all black, though, with surviving examples commonly incorporating agate, pearl, garnet, human hair, ivory and gold, making for some truly striking and beautiful items. Pearls were often incorporated into the jewels made to remember children as they symbolised tears, while white enamel was used to remember children and unmarried women.
Mourning jewellery pieces that have been passed down through families and survive to this day commonly feature an inscription, the initials of the loved one, a knot motif (often woven from hair), a small portrait photo or painting, or a silhouette of the deceased. Mourning jewellery can come in many different designs, but are most commonly brooches, rings, lockets and sometimes hair or tie pins. They will often feature strong symbolism such as crucifixes, flowers (especially the forget-me-not and the turquoise colour associated with this flower), angels, clouds, mourners sobbing at tombs, urns and weeping willows.
Perhaps the most characteristic of Victorian mourning jewellery is the use of human hair, often woven into intricate patterns or even to depict miniature scenes. It was also commonly braided into the chains that held watches or pendants. Victorians believed that human hair contained the essence of a person, and therefore had a sacred quality. It symbolised the deceased loved one’s essence, as well as immortality, since the hair survived long after the person is gone.
Interestingly, it was not only the hair of the loved one that was incorporated into memorial jewellery. At once stage during the Victorian era, England was importing 50 tons of human hair every year for the mourning jewellery industry, to supplement the strands provided by grieving family members. - Traces Magazine
Femme Maison
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Vessels
Our Lady of the Earth/ Our Lady of the Sea, 2021
Mixed-media: Pencil, Watercolour, Ink and wash, Silver paint pen
Every so often I feel compelled to create these pieces which aren’t so much finished works as experimentation - intuitive drawing or maybe visionary artworks. They often take their cue from a dream, as this did, or from deep emotional processing or grief and loss. Often they take the form of conversations with my inner child; they are a reflection of her dreams and fears in my waking life. I like to think of my work as ‘visual poetry’ and have been calling this process “Unearthing”. It is a process I bring to my writing and poetry as well - listing symbols, exploring metaphors, allowing the dark and golden threads of diverse life experiences and emotional memories to weave themselves into fabric that can be more readily interpreted by the conscious mind - what lies beneath.
I discovered a lot working on this piece; lots to bring forward to new works, lots of references to past works.
Image shows work in progress.
The cliffs are sneaking in there, to the left and a silver moon appeared when I picked up the pen - first it was behind the silhouette, then in front of her and now seashells are blossoming among the wild roses and melaleuca.
Conversations with my Inner Child, 2021
The Veil/Vale of Tears, 2021
The first in a series of tiny embossed teardrops encasing women of history.
In this first tear we have Anne Boleyn - Anne of a Thousand Days.
A victim - not survivor - of the most brutal form of domestic violence - murder.
I’ve been dreaming of manifesting a wall of hundreds of teardrops.
Blood Rituals, 2020-2022
Conversations with my Inner Child, 2020
Somewhere Over The Rainbow, 2021
Pandora’s Box or His-tory, 2020
The Blood Cycle, 2020
Love Letters, 2020
Letting Go, 2020 (Self Portrait)
Song to the Siren, 2020
This piece is named after the song of the same name written by Tim Buckley (again, how I love him) and Larry Beckett. Though my favourite version of this song was a haunting rendition sung by This Mortal Coil in 1983.
Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
'Til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle
And you sang
Sail to me
Sail to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am
Here I am
Waiting to hold you
Did I dream you dreamed about me
Were you here when I was forced out
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks
For you sing
Touch me not
Touch me not
Come back tomorrow
Oh my heart
Oh my heart
Shies from the sorrow
Well I'm as puzzled as the newborn child
I'm as riddled as the tide
Should I stand amid the breakers
Or should I lie with death, my bride
Hear me sing
Swim to me
Swim to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am
Here I am
Waiting to hold you
The Dream House, 2020 (work in progress)
Conversations with my Inner Child (series), 2020- current
A Touch of Gold, 2020 (work in progress)
Tiny Houses, 2020 (work in progress)
Conjuring or HIS-story, 2020
The Moloch, 2020
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This collage is called The Moloch/ or Seeing Red. 2020.
This is an image that came to me in a dream during Covid lockdown. I created this smaller painting last year and started preparing a bigger canvas in 2022. It occurred to me after I painted it that it is reminiscent of Louise Bourgeois’ Femme Maison series (1946-7).,,
In Louise’s paintings, the heads and bodies of nude female figures have been replaced by architectural forms such as buildings and houses. Femme Maison translates from the French as ‘housewife’: literally, ‘woman house’.
Bourgeois said the Femme Maison "does not know that she is half naked, and she does not know that she is trying to hide. That is to say, she is totally self-defeating because she shows herself at the very moment that she thinks she is hiding." Throughout Femme Maison, Bourgeois shows the home as an essentially female place, in which she can explore ideas about female identity.
In my dream, I was a child playing with my 1940s childhood dollhouse. It was covered with debris and I was struggling to unearth it. As I dug and dug a female Minotaur suddenly sprang out of the pile of refuse, shattering the dolls house.
It was such a powerful and symbolic image.
Dolls and dollhouses have featured heavily in my work over the years. I still have my childhood dollhouse, tucked away. When I was a child I obsessed over the tiny miniatures it contained. At eleven we travelled to Germany and visited the Toy Museum in Nuremberg. I was absolutely spellbound by the Royal dollhouses it contained and lucky enough to bring a few tiny collectables home with me that I still have displayed in my Wunderkammer.
Much of my work is about childhood and finding ways to connect with the inner child.
The story of the Moloch came to mind when I recalled this dream.
A mythical golden idol that was worshipped with child sacrifices.
The term “Moloch” is sometimes used figuratively to refer to a person or thing demanding or requiring a very costly sacrifice. A god Moloch appears in various works of literature, such as John Milton's Paradise Lost, Gustave Flaubert's Salammbô and Allen Ginsberg's "Howl"
The literary project I have recently initiated [ Blumen Verkaufen ] is a recounting of these light and dark echoes of childhood; an exploration of personal myth and journey through my own past and the creative passage that has led me to this point in time - it’s about unpacking trauma, both personal and collective, and questioning the projected identifications placed on women in an attempt to reclaim “what lies beneath”…
The Book of Shadows, 2020-2021
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The Creative Awakening, 2020
Sugar Skull, 2020
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A comment on the ineffectiveness of covid-era “remote learning” and relentless exposure to digital tools.
The Creative Awakening, 2020 - two works
2020 (unfinished)
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Bloom Where You Are Planted, 2020
When I Dream I Dream of You, 2020
2020
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Detritus, 2020
I briefly revisited this artist’s book but it remains unfinished…
Mandalas
Digital montage
In Jungian psychology a mandala as a symbol in a dream,
represents the dreamer's search for completeness and self-unity.
My work often explores acts of self which defy nature such as transcendence and transformation.
A catholic upbringing imbued sacrament, ritual, prayer and intervention, miracles and worship - acts of divinity - as real world happenings or possibilities - not fantasy or sur-reality, but magical everyday acts; as a believer this way was the truth while as a non-believer this world is akin in ways to the world of "magic realism" so familiar to literary culture. Through my recent work in the library sector, Genrefication became a focus area and I have been noting and considering the oft overlooked - more esoteric or obscure - genres such as Magical Realism.
Transformation, 2020
Magical Realism is a prominent genre and "tool" used by many well-known and well-loved writers in contemporary times. A movement that arose from mid 20th century Latin America, it is interesting to see, in the 21st century, writers like Haruki Murakami' (who I am yet to read) bring this "way of telling" into a new cultural sphere and to a modern, more wholly secular /or new age spiritual audience.
With these Mandala works of art, and their series - "Transcendence (manipulated digital photography) " and "Transformation" (manipulated hand-drawn illustration) I am attempting to, perhaps, do much the same.
Also, to explore that divide where digital and traditional artforms meet in this modern world and to create something that evokes a response of fascination or wonder or awe and instils a feeling of harmony and peace.
Transcendence 2017-2019
The Other, 2020
The Other is a concept for a body of work that I’ve been thinking about since around 2013- 2014.
Corner of Upstairs Studio, The Dream House, 2020
Our Love Forms Hollows, 2020
The Broken Wing, 2020
2020
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I really have a love/ hate relationship with it, it is imbued with a piece of my soul and very deep emotions.
This one makes me so sad... and ashamed perhaps.
It was created in such a dark place of despair but that place was also a catalyst.
It was the first work I created, at the start of Covid, just days before the first lockdown was announced.
I created it in March, the night before we made a mad 7 hour drive to East Gippsland, to some friends’ small arts festival, just for the night and the next day we drove around the Gippsland Lakes district. I was beside myself with grief and struggling to get it together to go. It was after the fires, we'd made the valentines to take at the Heartwood auction… I wanted so much to be in the forest, to mourn those burnt places… to see our friends.
Those were the last hugs we had really before Melbourne’s extensive “Stay at Home” lockdown orders.
I made this work to express that deep suicidal feeling of despair that I'd been feeling through 2018 and 2019 flowing into the start of 2020 - feelings of intense pain and hopelessness - but also to capture the call of hope.
I met these friends at a small community festival we attended bi-annually.
Since Autumn 2014, Renaissance Festival has become a significant part of our lives.
I'd made a few teardrop collages for the art auction, which we held for the fires, but then felt they were too sad and personal to offer. I had imagined I might commence making 1000 teardrop collages to express my sorrow at that time in early 2020, that was my plan before Covid. I stopped at three, then I made this mixed-media work.
Those seemingly ceaseless tears became the raindrops here.
Here, they are rain and stars and tears all in one... grief of lost love, cleansing nature, guiding stars.
The next day we drove down to East Gippy, just threw our bed in the back of my small wagon and left.
Ari went to sleep early that night, and I danced all night under the stars in the company of beautiful strangers.
Teardrops, 2020
Votives
This was a little series I was working on prior to the Covid-19 lockdown. It was a way of processing the deep grief I felt over the breakdown of a four year relationship and separation from someone I deeply loved and what arose from that grief; the loss of a life together, the promise of marriage and more children, and the deeper yearnings for family and safety by the child within. I imagined covering a wall with these teardrops and I used my own real tears to whet and wash the pencil shadings of the silhouettes as I worked. These processes may seem obscure to anyone who has not walked the creative path but this is what makes art so beautiful - it allows those deeper feelings to find a place that is both secular and sacred; where they can touch everyday objects, such as books and glue and pencils, a piano, a mantle or wall in our homes, and impart to them a measure of divinity.
Teardrops - Series One
I often feel like a piece of my own self is imbued within each work. I call these tiny collages ‘votives’, for its resonance with my own Catholic roots. They are tiny prayers, objects for divination - begging the intervention of some infinitely terrible, infinitely beautiful thing. I have often said in my ethos that “Art is my religion”.
2020
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Song of the Sea, 2020
Part of the Furniture, 2019-2020
Mother, 2019
2019
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Conversations with my Inner Self, 2019
Birthflower, 2019
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The Broken Vase, 2019
Home is where the Heart is, 2019
Creative Awakening
