Paper Processes: Collage and Marbling

For much of the last month in the studio I’ve been experimenting again with paper as my painting substrate. In the past I’ve found this to be a freeing exercise, without the pressure of results-based art making. It opens up possibility for discovery and innovation (well that’s the hope, but no pressure, right?)

Around 15 years ago, I attended a series of camping workshops on Moreton Island (in Queensland, Australia) with teacher Stephen Newton (@newtonsculpture on instagram). This was held through the Brisbane Institute of Art. I’m unsure if these Moreton trips are still happening, but if you get the chance to take a workshop with Stephen, I’d grab it with both hands. Although a sculptor by profession, he has a deep and eclectic grasp of materials which is evident even in his paper works. On these trips we worked with condes crystals, and paper marbling (with tar! Yes, the black sticky stuff on roads and roofs). I was a professional painter at the time, but I was working mostly in oils (on canvas), and had yet to explore the versatility of acrylics. I didn’t believe in their value compared to oil paints. I don’t mean to give Stephen too much credit (winking), but in hindsight these trips to Moreton, and especially the initial one, led to the cambrian explosion of discoveries for me in acrylics, inks, resins, acrylic skins, and an experimental mindset that has governed my practice. 

Examples of papers made with the Oil on Water technique

Recently, on my latest jaunt in Honolulu, I was giving my own workshop to a group of teenagers, and we began with some of the same processes. Paper marbling, being around for centuries, is the act of floating pigments on water and creating organic patterns that are then imprinted on paper when placed on the surface. I was only familiar with oil paints on water, and I suspected if I want to teach more younger folk, I may need to research a less toxic method. The Japanese use the sumi ink method, and I’ve yet to try that, and I knew water-based pigments were possible, but it just didn’t square with my understanding of physics. 

How do you get a water-based pigment to float on water? One solution I found on this wonderful tool called the internet, was a solution… I mean literally a solution. ;) The key ingredient to this solution is a water thickener called carrageenan. Apparently it’s a food additive and it does exactly what you think. It makes water thicker, and it is most surreal to work with this stuff. It’s water, but not quite. It’s actually a little creepy :) 

Here are the acrylic on thickened water baths. This solutions bodes well for varied and colourful results, but it takes some practice to get all the solutions right. The bath itself, as well the consistency of the pigment fluids need to be just right or they’ll either disperse too much and fade, or sink to the bottom of the bath.

Some of the resulting papers from the acrylic marbling.

Here are some base layers that were used to create the latest paper pieces. They consist of different layers of watercolour paper and washi paper (semi-traslucent), and have been deconstructed and collaged.

Thanks for reading this far! I hope that means this was interesting and inspiring for you. Feel free to leave a comment, subscribe to the monthly newsletter, and/or follow me on instagram for more studio going’s-on @amandakrantzstudio. For a look at the finished products, just head over to the originals page.





For the Love of Moss

‘For the Love of Moss’ is progression from my Big Bonsai Series, where I ask what a bonsai may look like if left alone for awhile to let nature take over. The initial idea was inspired by the broken-pot sculptures of Dutch artist Patrick Bergsma (credit where it’s due, his sculptures are extraordinary).

As with the Big Bonsai Series, both disciplines of rearing bonsai and painting with pours and fluid acrylics, hinge on the delicate dance between control and spontaneity. I try to harness the forces of nature and the fluidity of paint to create living, evolving works of art. Just as cultivating bonsai demands patience, a deep understanding of natural growth patterns, and an intuitive sense of when to prune or nurture, my fluid painting process requires a keen eye for balance and harmony. I seek to capture the essence of growth, transformation, and the dynamic interplay between human intention and the inherent, uncontrollable forces of nature.

Incorporating the notion of “nature taking over”, I try to convey the relentless power of nature, and a reminder that in the grand tapestry of life, our creations and interventions are ultimately transient, while the forces of nature endure. This painting itself will likely become a canvas for real organic growths of moss or fungi, or become compost or ash. Not too soon though I hope!

Oh Buoy! (part 2)

A few years ago now, I created some work reflecting the ecosystem of life that lives beneath the buoys that I swim between at Ala Moana beach, here in Honolulu. (check out the print of ‘Oh Buoy!’ and/or read about the initial artwork here ).

Something I’ve noticed on the latest stint in the Honolulu studio, is the abundance of Manini fish living in the weeds, and there is one larger Manini that for some reason lives alone under his own buoy. I took a video to show a neighbour, who has in turn named the fish Barry (after Barrack Obama who has been sighted in these parts over New Year).

Anyway, just for fun, here’s a quick video so you too can meet Barry. He’s usually very friendly and inquisitive, but he was a little camera-shy, me thinks :)

Barry under the buoy

'Oh Buoy!'

I’m a swimmer, and when I reside and work in Melbourne, I share a lane with a handful of others at the Melbourne City Baths. It’s an indoor heated pool - it’s climate controlled inside and out (which is just as well since Melbourne winters can be a bit bleak). Prior to my arrival in Hawaii, I loved the idea that I would be taking my swimming to the ocean… a more natural experience. However, the reality once here was that it was a big change and I found it frightening. I was used to swimming along a black line, but here I could see very little. It was just big deep space. I could only hear my own stokes in the water rather than a cacophony of reflected slaps and splashes. I was also at the mercy of the weather and currents, and strangely even the taste of the water made me feel uncomfortable.

Now, about the Buoy :) Over a few weeks I grew in courage and came to appreciate this very different experience of swimming. I love that every swim is vastly different, and the solitude, and the sense of being more connected to the planet. One day when I finally got myself out enough to swim between the buoys, I noticed these amazing microcosms of life beneath each of them. There are a number of buoys that run parallel to Ala Moana beach, and they are shelters for different small tropical fish amongst reeds, and seaweeds. Each buoy is unique, and I now stop and marvel at each of them. They breakup such a vast and empty space… like little fish rest stops on a highway, or space stations.

Oh Buoy!
from A$80.00

Commission for Design Shanghai 2020

I was fortunate enough to be commissioned by Debut Studio in Hong Kong for these three pieces to be shown at Design Shanghai 2020. They all have that flavour of the East… Mono no Aware 5 (landscape), Pine Tree Bonsai, and Poon Choi which is a popular Southern Chinese and Hong Kong dish (roughly translates as “to share”). You can purchase these limited edition prints at www.debutstudio.hk. It was a pleasure working with them!

poon_choi_1.jpg
pinetree_bonsai_1.jpg
mono_no_aware5_1.jpg

Wilsons Promontory

Wilsons Promontory (the Prom) is a stunning national park down on the south-eastern most tip of the Australian mainland. I had the privilege of staying in one of the hikers huts recently (yes, it was freezing) to work and gather inspiration. What I saw there, especially at first light, was truly breathtaking. Here are some photos of the reflections of the boulders in Tidal River. You can see the universe in these rocks.

And below are some of the sketches made on paper….

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The Big Bonsai Catalogue

The Big Bonsai Painting Show, Melbourne 2019. Music by Olafur Arnalds

I have been drawn to all things small from a young age, and I remember when I first came across a bonsai, I couldn’t quite believe it. It had age that showed in the bark, and the twisted and gnarled branches. It was alive and it was magic. Their mystifying qualities were intensified by the Karate Kid movies with Mr Miyagi, the master of all things to the then 5 year old me, taking extreme care in the pruning of his bonsai trees. This was a man who could catch flies with chopsticks, so growing a bonsai was clearly reserved for those with special powers. 

I learned about bonsai by reading every English language book and article I could find. This was a pre-internet era, so that wasn’t too great a feat. I took a crack at growing them myself, not really understanding the effect of the harsher climatic conditions that Brisbane would have on the trees I had learned about and loved (aka Japanese Maple). I eventually had some luck with a Moreton Bay fig, but then I became too transient to hold down a garden of any sort. 

It wasn’t until well into a career of painting that I thought I could combine the two passions, and it was through the act of painting them that I understood so much more. 

I had been a “fluid artist” from early on. I was more interested in what “nature” could create when I threw paint, or allowed it to pool, or let gravity have its way. And there are many many fluid artists, but I think I have always maintained more of an element of control and manipulation. When working, I have an idea of what I want to achieve, but I work with the nature of paint to create something far more interesting than what I could paint on my own. This, I realised, is like what it is to grow a bonsai. The grower gives the tree some parameters, in the form of a pot and tree style and shape, but it is the tree does the work.

You could go philosophically deeper, for when a bonsai grower chooses a young tree to create a bonsai, she looks for the shape and potential that is already there. And as the tree grows, the tree grants her choices as to which direction or shape to form. This is the philosophy of the Dao, or the Way. Similarly, each bonsai painting I create is with multiple layers whereby each layer informs the next. 

When I was in Japan studying Ukiyo-e (woodblock printing), I had the privilege of seeing some of the oldest and most sensational bonsai. Many of them in Omiya, a village on the outskirts of Tokyo where they were housed to keep them safe from bombing during WW2. I have been back to explore further since then, so I think it’s safe to say the obsession has not faded since childhood. 

The works in The Big Bonsai Painting Show are modelled from those I saw in Japan. The way in which they are painted follows a Daoist philosophy, and are “grown” layer by layer from the canvas up. My goal has been to capture a sense of nostalgia (we all have associations to times of the year that plants are in flower or when leaves change colour), and an experience of other-worldliness by painting them in a scale that’s larger-than-life and presenting them together in the one space. 

The Big Bonsai Painting Show!

The larger than life bonsai paintings are on show for ONE NIGHT ONLY!

Where: Meat Market Stables, 2 Wreckyn St, North Melbourne, Australia (Online later for everyone else)

When: Saturday 27 April, 2019. 6-9pm

'The Big Bonsai Painting Show' will be happening in the history steeped warehouse stables of Melbourne's Meat Market. All your favourite trees will be there ;)

It's a free event and open to all the public, with wine and regular gallery opening fare.

Join the Facebook event for updates

Spread the love, and see you there!

The show will be online shortly after.

Me finishing off a large Wisteria

Me finishing off a large Wisteria

‘Japanese Maple in Bespoke Pot’ 130cm x 110cm

‘Japanese Maple in Bespoke Pot’ 130cm x 110cm

Meat Market Stables in North Melbourne seemed like the ideal venue

Meat Market Stables in North Melbourne seemed like the ideal venue

Sorry about Comments

Unfortunately all your comments on my blog have been lost into the ether (sigh). It had something to do with Disqus and the changes Squarespace made when it went to “https” from “http”. I tried to reclaim them through URL mapping, but alas it did not work for me. Apologies to all! We now have the regular Sqaurespace comment system so it should be smooth sailing from here. :)

The funny things you see

One of the greatest joys of painting in the semi-abstract to abstract genre, is hearing what my audience sees within. Whether on social media or in person, here are a few memorable remarks to perhaps you can relate:

  • I can see an upside-down mermaid in a bowl of spaghetti! (See image below)

  • I can see a blue Holden Barina (an Aussie car) that’s fallen off a cliff into a shrub! (In this person’s case, I believe this actually happened to her! I’m not sure I like being a ptsd trigger :S)

  • I see a group of babies screaming

  • It’s a butterfly party! (Children are the best at this)

  • Animals. Always animals. Penguins, donkeys, lots of accidental cats apparently. One woman could only see elephants, lots of elephants and it took a longtime convincing they were flowers. Bless :D

I would just like to say that whatever you may see in my paintings says a lot more about YOU than it does the accidental creator :D

‘Wisteria Bonsai’ or aka an upside-down mermaid in a bowl of spaghetti

‘Wisteria Bonsai’ or aka an upside-down mermaid in a bowl of spaghetti

Chef’s Table (Palette and Palate)

My girlfriend kept harping on about this show called Chef’s Table on Netflix, and insisting as an artist I would find it interesting. 

I was reluctant at first, because well, are chefs like artists? And also, I’ve never been able to understand the recent wave of cooking shows. When you think of the number of hungry people, I thought it all in pretty poor taste; kinda tough to swallow, or hard to stomach. ;) 

But as it turns out, Chef’s Table is about the chefs themselves, and their “journeys” for lack of a better word. And it is surprising the parallels between the life of a chef and that of an artist. This might not be surprising to some of you… it is called the “culinary arts” after all. But I went to art school, and there were no culinary skills taught, believe me!

To start with, one of the hallmarks of an artist is individuality, and the chefs in this show are no different. The personalities, cuisines, cultures and approach are as varied as a modern art fair. Variety is the spice of life, they say. 

Another alarming parallel is chefs and artists seem to name their creations with word play and puns. In the episode featuring Will Goldfarb, we were taken to his dessert bar ‘Room 4 Dessert” with such dishes as ‘Pandan-bert’. I’ve come up with some groaners for my own work, but chefs truly take the cake! ;) 

The chefs exposed are not necessarily on the gravy train, but they are the cream of the crop. Cherry-picked. Some are the avant-garde of food, taking molecular gastronomy to the next level… often employing “food labs” which are kitchens dedicated to experimentation. Methinks this is much the same as an artist’s studio… where hours are spent, mistakes and discoveries made. Chefs on the show create organic bubbles of flavour inside algae skins, foams and flosses of unconventional flavours. It’s a similar kind of innovation that I see with painters who use gels, fluid acrylics, paint skins, and artists in general who push the limits of the materials in their given medium. If you were to look into a modern studio and a modern kitchen/lab, you’d find tools that wouldn’t be traditionally be found in either. Blow torches, industrial moulds, plastics and dry ice, for example.  

Artists long ago escaped the confines of the square canvas, and chefs are no longer bound by a round white plate. Grant Achatz at his restaurant Alinea, (whom, on a side note, often visits contemporary art galleries for inspiration for his dishes), serves food on pillows of scented air. And in the ephemera, there’s Vladimir Mukhin’s White Rabbit restaurant in Moscow, which aims to create an overall experience much like an installation artwork.

There is a definite familiarity with chefs’ obsession with… well, familiarity. Nostalgia and childhood features throughout the series. Notably, and one of the strongest episodes, was Christina Tosi: a New Yorker who invented cornflake milk ice-cream. You know, that flavoured milk left over after a bowl of cornflakes? I thought that was quite brilliant! You don’t have to look far in the art world to see that “flavour” of nostalgia, from Chardin’s ‘Boy with a Top’ to Jeff Koons’ ballon dogs. I guess it alludes to an overall occupation with childhood (some of us have even been accused of painting like one). And I think too, it’s important for innovation to approach our work with a notion of “play”… if not in concept, then in the creative process.

Another memorable episode featured Francis Mallman who lived and cooked on a seriously remote and wild Patagonian island. Along with Jeong Kwan, a Buddhist nun of the Baegyangsa temple in South Korea, these two chefs are all about immersion with their natural surrounds. Mallman is primeval in the connection to his surrounds, and Kwan spiritual, and the episode leaves you with same feeling you get after a week-long meditation retreat. For me, and I hear it from other artists too (especially those in cities), it highlights our dissonant need to be a part of the human city machine, and the desire to be out and grounded in nature. 

This blog post probably has enough on its plate, but it wouldn’t be right not to touch on the effect of patriarchy on the cheffing and art worlds. In the first season of Chef’s Table, there is just one female chef featured. The woman I speak of is Niki Nakamara, and all she had to do to be on the show was train in Japan for decades in the uber-male dominated world of Kaiseki, realise there was never going to be much opportunity there, move to Los Angeles, start her own restaurant, and become one of the top Kaiseki chefs in the world. Hopefully you can detect my snark here, but of course, this lack of equality is a reflection on the world of elite chefs more than on Chef’s Table, who to their credit, made more of a concerted effort to represent equally in following seasons. 

Similarly, women have long been fighting for equal representation in major museums, or to in general be taken seriously as artists. This is not easy given the “artistic genius” label that has a long history of being given to only men, leaving society with an inherited (mostly) unconscious bias. There are signs things are changing, with projects such as The Jealous Curator’s book ‘A Big Important Art Book - Now With Women’, The Other Art Fair London’s ‘Not 30%’, and revisionist history documentaries like ‘Kusama, Infinity’.

In a nutshell, the life of a chef is far closer to that of an artist than I thought. Granted, I can see that is a rather glorifying statement given cheffing is a pretty hard slog. It’s long hours, split shifts, hot kitchens, high pressure, and until you make it into the top tier, the pay is peanuts. But I’d like to point out that artists are not exactly living the life of leisure that’s expected of them. Most artists  I know are working long hours (usually second jobs too), in studios that are freezing cold in winter and baking in summer, and might be happy to be paid in peanuts. It’s almost like the life of a chef is going through a period of romanticisation not dissimilar to what must have happened to artists at some point. 

I can’t complain though. I’m not a starving artist. In fact, this is where I should probably mention that the gf and I had the good fortune of nabbing a table at n/naka (Niki Nakayama’s restaurant) when in LA for The Other Art Fair (to say it was tricky getting in is an understatement. Bookings for tables open three months prior, and are booked within literally seconds. It was insane, and took a number of attempts before we were finally successful). The evening was one of the most memorable of my life. Each morsel of food was a brand new experience, from a heavenly dashi broth, cuttlefish and lobster sashimi with wee medallions of weird stuff and yummy purees, to cherry blossom jelly and yuzu sake. Not just the food, the hospitality was above and beyond, even for Japanese standards (and American for that matter). The waiters, the chefs, all know you by name, and know why you are there prior to your arrival. It was a first class experience, and to think I could be repeating that in the future, is probably pie in the sky

Clearly, I can no longer judge our culture’s food fetish. I know the struggle for protein for some is still very real, and the excess of food we have in the West, and waste, should be acknowledged. But I have to say, when you start viewing food as art, and chefs as artists, our preoccupation with food and these food shows become a whole lot more palette-able ;) (perhaps conveniently).

One of the 15 courses at n/naka. It was a seared scallop with a puree of some delicious sort and jelly.

One of the 15 courses at n/naka. It was a seared scallop with a puree of some delicious sort and jelly.

Dashi broth with clams and special crystal weed found on the side of road.

Dashi broth with clams and special crystal weed found on the side of road.

Pasta made with seafood somehow.

Pasta made with seafood somehow.

Me having a jolly time.

Me having a jolly time.

The Other Art Fair - Sydney!

People of Sydney, do you have your tickets to The Other Art Fair starting this Thursday 26 October? I'll be exhibiting there along with 100 other artists chosen for the event. I haven't been involved in the Sydney event before, but the Melbourne event earlier this year was good fun, and the caliber of artwork was inspiring! Read on for info on how to get yourselves in for free. 

I have a large space in Sydney, with some large works to show (and a few small, and the Samsung sponsored Saatchi Art lounge will also be showing some of my work). Here are a few: 

'Bonsai: Spring', 100cm x 120cm, Acrylic on canvas

'Bonsai: Spring', 100cm x 120cm, Acrylic on canvas

'Sakura', 208cm x 130cm, Acrylic on Canvas

'Sakura', 208cm x 130cm, Acrylic on Canvas

'Bonsai: Autumn', 100cm x 120cm, Acrylic on canvas

'Bonsai: Autumn', 100cm x 120cm, Acrylic on canvas

The fair runs from Thursday 26 - Sunday 29 October at Australian Technology Park, and you can get your tickets here: http://sydney.theotherartfair.com/free (use promocode TOAFAmanda).

See you there! 

This was hard

The 30 paintings in 30 day challenge was so exhausting that I'm only just getting around to publishing my notes. (Okay I did sneak in a wee trip to Japan there). Here are my notes ripped direct from my diary during the challenge. They're pretty candid, a little rough, and perhaps boring in parts... but there are some pretty pictures! As you'll see, a strong food theme emerged...

    Read More

    30 Paintings in 30 Days

    Have you heard of NaNoWriMo [http://nanowrimo.org/] -- National Novel Writing Month? It's an internet-based creative writing project that challenges participants to complete 50,000 words (or a novel) within the month of November. It started in 1999, and in 2015 they claim that 431,626 people could call themselves novelists at the end of the 30-day period. Pretty impressive.

    Now there's something similar started for artists called, "Thirty Paintings in Thirty Days" [https://www.saetastudio.com/30-in-30.html] which takes place in September. My schedule doesn't allow me to sign up, but the idea got me thinking. Could I complete 30 paintings in 30 days? Would the pressure to produce a quality painting every single day (for 30 days in a row!) trigger new creativity...or stymie it? 

    Aside from completing one painting a day, there is NO pressure.. no pressure to create anything good. It could be quite freeing, so for the moment, I’m quietly confident of the latter… it would trigger new creativity. However, those that know me well, know that such optimism could be short lived, and it’s entirely possible I would at some stage lose my sh*t and decide instead to set fire to the studio. 

    Nonetheless, the challenge of it has intrigued me, and I have decided to go for it. I've given myself an internal deadline: September 15 to October 14. At the end of that time, I should have 30 new works to share. I will be giving daily updates on Instagram and Facebook, and weekly reports on my blog. You’re welcome to follow my efforts as I navigate through the challenge. 

    Are there any other artists/writers/creators interested in joining me in the challenge? :D

    Canvases supplied by Southern Buoy 

    Canvases supplied by Southern Buoy 

    A Gift of a Gif

    I have been enjoying the subtle animated gifs showing up on social media lately, and thought I'd try my hand at animating paintings... just a little, and just enough to enhance the intended 'vibe' of the piece. I hope you enjoy this wee version of Maple Over Rock :) (It's a bit clunky, but like with all gifs, it's the thought that counts ;) ) 

    krantz_maple.gif

    P.S. Limited Edition Prints of 'Maple Over Rock' are now available in the shop!

    Painting Bonsai

    How's everyone going? These blog updates have thus far been few and far between, and it's something I plan to rectify... soooo if there's anything in particular you'd like to hear about from me, feel free to drop a comment in the Disqus section below (for those reading this via email, just click a link to view the blog on the net... or simply reply to this email).

    Without further ado, I give you 'Blossom Bonsai' where the Japan trip's inspiration is starting to seep into my thinking and making. (While we're here, I recommend visiting Omiya bonsai village a northern day trip from Tokyo. There you'll find the most beautiful trees you're ever likely to see.)

    'Blossom Bonsai' 130cm x 120cm, Acrylic on Canvas, framed in Victorian Ash

    'Blossom Bonsai' 130cm x 120cm, Acrylic on Canvas, framed in Victorian Ash

    It’s hard to gauge from this photograph, but at 130cm x 120cm, this a LARGE bonsai, which I know… is a totally oxymoronic statement. How is it not simply a tree, you ask?

    In the Zen art of Bonsai, by making tiny trees, or I should say, assisting to keep trees tiny, our perception of scale is tickled. It’s the same feeling you get when viewing sculptures like giant tubes of toothpaste by Claes Oldenburg, or the eerily life-like creations of Ron Mueck who works in both the giant and the pint-size. The newborn baby should not be the size of a swimming pool, and that middle-age spooning couple shouldn’t fit within the palm of my hand. It confuses us, but tickles us too. 

    A LARGE bonsai adds another layer to that skewed scale perception, and in so doing, highlights what it is that makes a tree a bonsai. It’s not merely about size, it’s about the character of age,  its shape and balance,  its root structure, thick tapered trunk and gnarled branches. These are the attributes a bonsai master is careful to maintain, and ditto when I create my bonsai works. 

    Although executed through very modern painting techniques, these bonsai are “grown” and “guided” in much the same way as a traditional bonsai tree. (Thankfully for me, in slightly less time.) When working with paint-pours, I surrender to Nature (gravity, paint viscosity, surface tension, etc.). I can do little but guide Nature to create what could be used to represent a trunk, age spots, or a gnarled branch. 

    It is in the surrendering to Nature, that allows for the mimicry of Nature… and that’s all pretty bloody Zen. ;)

    'Maple over Rock', 120cm x 80cm, acrylic on canvas

    'Maple over Rock', 120cm x 80cm, acrylic on canvas

    5 Studio Life Hacks

    Okay, so you've been painting for a while, finding your style, and you notice half the art crap you buy you never use, and others, tools and colours emerge as your loyal friends. Some seemingly unlikely, become lifelong friends. 

    5 Studio Life Hacks

     

    1. Bluetooth headphones

    These haven't been around for that long, but we've become fast friends. You have to wonder how many in-ear and out-ear headphones that have died in the name of art creation. I've killed a few dozen, not to mention the amount of times they've nearly killed me by tripping over their cords, or been strangled in the tangle of cords and jumpers. Or the times they killed the music when my iPod/iphone bungee-jumped into the loo in the defrocking process. 

    cordless.jpg

     

    2. Sticky-roller

    Dust, brush-hair, human hair, clothes lint and human lint… they're all on your paintings people! You can't get rid of all of it, but this ingenious sticky-roller, that you usually use to de-lint clothes, should be your go-to tool for extracting the nasties. It will quickly become your second-best friend in the studio. Use it between dry layers, and prior to varnish.

    stickyroller.jpg

     

    3. Correction Pen recycling

    You could spend hundreds on re-fillable drafting pens, but for me, nothing beats the nib of a $2 correction pen for fine detail. To fill with your favourite ink, or fluid paint, you first need to get inside and clean out the white stuff (clean out with turps). That's not easy… I tried pliers, biting and all sorts to get the nib off. It turns out, canvas stretching pliers (the ones with the silicon rubber innards) will do the trick. What luck, huh?! You may already have some of those in the studio. 

     

    4. Neck-noodle

    Especially handy in this polar vortex we Australians are suffering through right now ;) Luckily, I have experience painting in such extremes. It's a scarf, that you wear around your neck, but it doesn't have any ends! It's sewn up! No more dangling material in paint, and tripping over your clothes while you keep your neck warm. You laugh now, but that's because you don't have one yet! 

    necknoodle.jpg

     

    5. Baby Oil

    It's a wicked brush cleaner. There's something about the type of oil (it being made from a mineral oil) that bonds paint oil to regular detergent, and therefore allowing you to wash out with water rather than turps. It means you can use your brushes for oils and water-based paints in the same sitting. 

    babyoil.jpg

    So there you have it. 5 of my life hacks. Do you yourself have some? Something you do that's MacGyver-esque? It doesn't need to be art related. Feel free to drop a comment here on the blog. I'd love to hear from you, hacks or no hacks :)