Gillian Polack's Blog, page 201
March 17, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-17T21:45:00
I have actually done an hour and a half on the computer. My eye now needs a break, but it was *so* nice to actually accomplish something, even if that something was mostly finding out the limitations of databases. And that publishers do not always obey the law and send deposit copies to the National Library.
Women's History Month - Nicole Murphy
Artistic inspirations
It might be a surprise for me, a writer, to name two musicians as two inspirations for me. But while I love words, and I appreciate the power of an incredible story, they are tools to me. The art of creating a story, creating a book, doesn't hold much mystery to me…
Music reaches into my soul. Some of my happiest moments, the memories that are still sharp in my mind involve me singing. If I had any talent I would be a rockstar, not a writer.
A writer I am, and here's two women that in the past couple of years of my journey as an artist have meant a great deal to me. In particular, they've taught me that 'artist' isn't a label to be scared of, or that I'm not good enough for. It's what I am.
1). Amanda Palmer
I came to know of Amanda Palmer a few years ago when I started following Neil Gaiman on Twitter. Neil is a god to me, his writing hits me every time. When he started banging on about this girl he was dating, I decided to check her out.
Nowadays, I'd push Neil out of the way to get to Amanda. There's so much about her I love. Her fearlessness. Her honesty. Her openness.
Amanda's not afraid to make mistakes, not afraid to step on toes in her pursuit of her art. For her, the truthfulness of the song she's writing or performing at that moment is what is important.
Amanda also teaches good habits of artistry. She doesn't hide the work that goes into what she does. The hours she spends thinking about her lyrics. The days she spends rehearsing for tour. Last year she was taking piano lessons and learning to play classical pieces, because she understood that while right now she was good enough, she needed to be better.
Last year, when she played in Canberra, I made my sisters wait while I went to get her signature and I got to thank her for her inspiration and for giving me the courage to stand tall and say I am an artist. She was so excited for me that I'd sold my books to a major publisher – "That's Neil's publisher," she said, squeezing my hand.
Even now, remembering that – yeah, I feel fearless again.
2) Clare Bowditch
As a fan of music quiz shows Spicks and Specks and Rockwiz, I was aware of Clare Bowditch but I fell in love with her two years ago. It was my 40th birthday, the Rockwiz show was on tour and my sister bought me tickets, so we went to the ANU to see it.
It was a magical night. Firstly, because John Paul Young came out and sang "Love is in the air". Ever have one of those moments where you realise your life has been bereft until this point in time, even though you didn't know it? That was one of those moments. My life is better for having seen it.
Secondly, there was Clare. She came out to play, but there was something wrong with the sound and her keyboard couldn't be heard. It took about five minutes to fix, during which time Claire entertained us by making up a song on the spot about the frustrations of equipment not working.
Class act – not ranting, not pouting, doing what she is meant to do – perform, entertain.
Then it was sorted and she played her then current single – The Start of War – and I was astounded by her beautiful voice and the power of words.
I came back home, bought a whole lot of Clare's stuff from iTunes and indulged. Now I follow her on Twitter, so I can get almost daily inspiration. Currently, she's doing an experiment on happiness, which is really interesting to follow.
A few weeks ago, Clare tweeted that recording had stopped because a car had crashed through a fence and into the house (she has her own studio). A few hours later, she tweeted that they'd finished recording for the day. "And yes we did keep recording – that's what art is for. x".
Yes it is, Clare. Yes, it is.
Nicole Murphy has been a primary school teacher, bookstore owner, journalist and checkout chick. She grew up reading Tolkien, Lewis and Le Guin; spent her twenties discovering Quick, Lindsey and Deveraux and lives her love of science fiction and fantasy through her involvement with the Conflux science fiction conventions. Her urban fantasy trilogy Dream of Asarlai is published in Australia/NZ by HarperVoyager. She's just commenced a new venture, In fabula-divinos (http://thetaletellers.wordpress.com) which is aimed at mentoring up-and-coming writers. She lives with her husband in Queanbeyan, NSW. Visit her website http://nicolermurphy.com
It might be a surprise for me, a writer, to name two musicians as two inspirations for me. But while I love words, and I appreciate the power of an incredible story, they are tools to me. The art of creating a story, creating a book, doesn't hold much mystery to me…
Music reaches into my soul. Some of my happiest moments, the memories that are still sharp in my mind involve me singing. If I had any talent I would be a rockstar, not a writer.
A writer I am, and here's two women that in the past couple of years of my journey as an artist have meant a great deal to me. In particular, they've taught me that 'artist' isn't a label to be scared of, or that I'm not good enough for. It's what I am.
1). Amanda Palmer
I came to know of Amanda Palmer a few years ago when I started following Neil Gaiman on Twitter. Neil is a god to me, his writing hits me every time. When he started banging on about this girl he was dating, I decided to check her out.
Nowadays, I'd push Neil out of the way to get to Amanda. There's so much about her I love. Her fearlessness. Her honesty. Her openness.
Amanda's not afraid to make mistakes, not afraid to step on toes in her pursuit of her art. For her, the truthfulness of the song she's writing or performing at that moment is what is important.
Amanda also teaches good habits of artistry. She doesn't hide the work that goes into what she does. The hours she spends thinking about her lyrics. The days she spends rehearsing for tour. Last year she was taking piano lessons and learning to play classical pieces, because she understood that while right now she was good enough, she needed to be better.
Last year, when she played in Canberra, I made my sisters wait while I went to get her signature and I got to thank her for her inspiration and for giving me the courage to stand tall and say I am an artist. She was so excited for me that I'd sold my books to a major publisher – "That's Neil's publisher," she said, squeezing my hand.
Even now, remembering that – yeah, I feel fearless again.
2) Clare Bowditch
As a fan of music quiz shows Spicks and Specks and Rockwiz, I was aware of Clare Bowditch but I fell in love with her two years ago. It was my 40th birthday, the Rockwiz show was on tour and my sister bought me tickets, so we went to the ANU to see it.
It was a magical night. Firstly, because John Paul Young came out and sang "Love is in the air". Ever have one of those moments where you realise your life has been bereft until this point in time, even though you didn't know it? That was one of those moments. My life is better for having seen it.
Secondly, there was Clare. She came out to play, but there was something wrong with the sound and her keyboard couldn't be heard. It took about five minutes to fix, during which time Claire entertained us by making up a song on the spot about the frustrations of equipment not working.
Class act – not ranting, not pouting, doing what she is meant to do – perform, entertain.
Then it was sorted and she played her then current single – The Start of War – and I was astounded by her beautiful voice and the power of words.
I came back home, bought a whole lot of Clare's stuff from iTunes and indulged. Now I follow her on Twitter, so I can get almost daily inspiration. Currently, she's doing an experiment on happiness, which is really interesting to follow.
A few weeks ago, Clare tweeted that recording had stopped because a car had crashed through a fence and into the house (she has her own studio). A few hours later, she tweeted that they'd finished recording for the day. "And yes we did keep recording – that's what art is for. x".
Yes it is, Clare. Yes, it is.
Nicole Murphy has been a primary school teacher, bookstore owner, journalist and checkout chick. She grew up reading Tolkien, Lewis and Le Guin; spent her twenties discovering Quick, Lindsey and Deveraux and lives her love of science fiction and fantasy through her involvement with the Conflux science fiction conventions. Her urban fantasy trilogy Dream of Asarlai is published in Australia/NZ by HarperVoyager. She's just commenced a new venture, In fabula-divinos (http://thetaletellers.wordpress.com) which is aimed at mentoring up-and-coming writers. She lives with her husband in Queanbeyan, NSW. Visit her website http://nicolermurphy.com
gillpolack @ 2012-03-17T14:38:00
Today so far I have had precisely one insight. It's a very useful insight, but painfully obvious. Also, it's one I've had many times already.
The reason why some fiction writers do a ton of research and then get historical stuff wrong is because they have done a bunch of work, but not done the thinking that will carry them that one step further into understanding. When writers (writing fiction, history, or, in fact, anything) take that extra effort to understand, it shows in their work. In other words, facts are seldom enough, especially for fiction.
I do hope that stating the bleeding obvious is not going to be my total day, but so far it rather looks like it may be. Welcome to PhDland.
The reason why some fiction writers do a ton of research and then get historical stuff wrong is because they have done a bunch of work, but not done the thinking that will carry them that one step further into understanding. When writers (writing fiction, history, or, in fact, anything) take that extra effort to understand, it shows in their work. In other words, facts are seldom enough, especially for fiction.
I do hope that stating the bleeding obvious is not going to be my total day, but so far it rather looks like it may be. Welcome to PhDland.
March 16, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-16T23:31:00
I spent a fine evening at the Conservation Foundation quiz night. Lots of questions about lizards and trees. The trophy (which we didn't win) was made from a remnant tree that had been pruned under a tree management plan (you needed to know that).
We were next to the bushwalker table and well away from the table of politicians. The Speaker (of the Assembly ie local) was auctioned off to the highest bidding table because apparently he is good at these quiz nights.
My big question is "Why are so many blokes who work on environmental type things called Bruce?" I've met two Bruces this week. Both very nice, and both working in this sort of area.
My question of the day is (courtesy of the Conservation Foundation, of course) "What kinds of eucalypts are native to Canberra and are food for koalas?"
We were next to the bushwalker table and well away from the table of politicians. The Speaker (of the Assembly ie local) was auctioned off to the highest bidding table because apparently he is good at these quiz nights.
My big question is "Why are so many blokes who work on environmental type things called Bruce?" I've met two Bruces this week. Both very nice, and both working in this sort of area.
My question of the day is (courtesy of the Conservation Foundation, of course) "What kinds of eucalypts are native to Canberra and are food for koalas?"
Women's History Month - today's guest blogger, Laura E. Goodin
When I was invited to participate in Gillian's Women's History Month celebration, I was both honored and dismayed. Should I write about all the jaw-droppingly remarkable women writers, Australian or otherwise, whom I've had the privilege to meet in the course of my own career as a writer? Should I pick a trailblazer like Mary Shelley, who had few or no examples to guide her as she pushed – nay, burst – the boundaries of speculative fiction? Should I, in a moment of horrifying hubris, write about myself?
No. In this post, I want to celebrate all the women writers, all over Australia, who wait for the quiet moments when their kids are out with their friends and their partners are off playing cricket, the moments when they can finally take a breath and work on their novels, their plays, their poems, their memoirs. I want to celebrate the girls in high-school English classes who dare to write something utterly unlike what their friends are writing, what they worry they're supposed to write, and thereby find themselves through the joy of artistic risk. I want to celebrate the women who, like me, were called to write early on, but, for one reason or another, wandered away for years or decades before finding their way back. The little girls who scrawl stories about their stuffed toys. The university students who gasp at the beauty of a poem shouted to a crowd, then go home and write their own. The girls who perform their own plays to each other in the garage. The reporters who swallow their own fear and shyness, their own worry that they are not being "feminine", to find out and write the truth. The academics who search for treasure to bring back for the rest of us.
These women and girls may never publish, let alone win prizes. Some will, of course. But most love their writing in a way completely apart from personal gain. They gather the electricity of words within them, letting the charge build up until it flows from their very heart, and the words come out. That kind of energy, that kind of love, is a gift to the world. Even if we never read her words, every woman who writes is giving us a gift. And I thank her.
Laura E. Goodin's stories have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies in Australia, the US, and the UK, her plays have been produced in Australia and the UK, and her poetry has been performed internationally. She lives on the NSW South Coast with her husband and daughter, and in her spare time tries to be as much like Xena, Warrior Princess, as possible. You can find links to some of her work at http://www.lauragoodin.com
No. In this post, I want to celebrate all the women writers, all over Australia, who wait for the quiet moments when their kids are out with their friends and their partners are off playing cricket, the moments when they can finally take a breath and work on their novels, their plays, their poems, their memoirs. I want to celebrate the girls in high-school English classes who dare to write something utterly unlike what their friends are writing, what they worry they're supposed to write, and thereby find themselves through the joy of artistic risk. I want to celebrate the women who, like me, were called to write early on, but, for one reason or another, wandered away for years or decades before finding their way back. The little girls who scrawl stories about their stuffed toys. The university students who gasp at the beauty of a poem shouted to a crowd, then go home and write their own. The girls who perform their own plays to each other in the garage. The reporters who swallow their own fear and shyness, their own worry that they are not being "feminine", to find out and write the truth. The academics who search for treasure to bring back for the rest of us.
These women and girls may never publish, let alone win prizes. Some will, of course. But most love their writing in a way completely apart from personal gain. They gather the electricity of words within them, letting the charge build up until it flows from their very heart, and the words come out. That kind of energy, that kind of love, is a gift to the world. Even if we never read her words, every woman who writes is giving us a gift. And I thank her.
Laura E. Goodin's stories have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies in Australia, the US, and the UK, her plays have been produced in Australia and the UK, and her poetry has been performed internationally. She lives on the NSW South Coast with her husband and daughter, and in her spare time tries to be as much like Xena, Warrior Princess, as possible. You can find links to some of her work at http://www.lauragoodin.com
gillpolack @ 2012-03-16T14:57:00
Today's eye improvements were rudely interrupted by the weather. I did get some catching up of paperwork done before I realised that there were storms on the way, but now I'm back to working at the computer in dribs and drabs. They're longer dribs and drabs than they ere, still, which means to the outside world it looks as if I'm doing stuff. To the inside world, well, it's still one minute on to every ten minutes off.
I made my tomato soup, which turned out to have garlic and spinach and artichoke hearts as well as the tomato. As always when I make soup, I no longer want to eat it. If I still don't want to eat it tomorrow, it will make an excellent spaghetti sauce, so all is well. And I still have a bowl of very soft slow-cooked garlic cloves in my refrigerator waiting for further thought.
The eye clinic phoned and I'm to be at the hospital at 12.30 pm on Monday.
And really, that's everything, because I keep wimping out and resting. It's a very slow week, from that point of view. Thank goodness it's also Women's History Month and my wonderful blog guests continue to give me marvellous stuff. This means that my life is quiet, but you don't have to be bored (but if you want to be bored, then go ahead - I'm generous that way.)
I'm not falling as far behind with my study as I might. This is because I had planned to check out a couple of DVDs soon anyhow - I've brought that check forward and put the book work off til next week.
Early on, I needed to sort out the relationship between SF time travel narratives and the one I was writing. I read a lot of time travel books and saw some movies. I made a note to myself that some of this would need to be revisited after I'd done my first draft of the novel, just to check that I wasn't being daft. So that's been done. I didn't need to see everything - just a bit of Star Trek and a bit of Quantum leap. I made mental notes on what I needed to compare. And I'm fine, and it's done. Although if more time travel narrative magically appeared for watching on my DVD, I would not say no.
The other thing I need to look at is science documentaries. When I was checking popular narratives from this (not for the dissertation at all - mainly so that I didn't contradict popular science narratives without really good cause) I realised I'd have to do a bit of that again after the basic novel was written. So that's today and possibly some of tomorrow.
After that I must see Game of Thrones (ah, the agony!) for Martin uses popular spec fic narratives that bring in the Middle Ages. I know for certain I'm in conflict with these. I want to be able to articulate to myself how I am, and why. This may or may not appear during the dissertation, but it's important I do it. And that's the rest of the weekend, for Conor kindly let me borrow his copy. I also have the latest book from Conor, but reading that must wait.
None of this is core research, but it all helps me make sure my perspectives are where they need to be. And it means I don't lose track of where I am and get into the fug of doctoral depression, which is dreadfully easy to do at this stage, even when one doesn't have eye problems. And - biggest 'and' of all, need capitals - the TV is less harsh on my funky eye than the computer and I can walk away from it any time I need to without losing a second. it may not be nearly as central as the highly technical stuff I was supposed to be doing this week, but it advances things. For this I am very happy.
And, in other not-quite-news, I'm going to a quiz night tonight.
I made my tomato soup, which turned out to have garlic and spinach and artichoke hearts as well as the tomato. As always when I make soup, I no longer want to eat it. If I still don't want to eat it tomorrow, it will make an excellent spaghetti sauce, so all is well. And I still have a bowl of very soft slow-cooked garlic cloves in my refrigerator waiting for further thought.
The eye clinic phoned and I'm to be at the hospital at 12.30 pm on Monday.
And really, that's everything, because I keep wimping out and resting. It's a very slow week, from that point of view. Thank goodness it's also Women's History Month and my wonderful blog guests continue to give me marvellous stuff. This means that my life is quiet, but you don't have to be bored (but if you want to be bored, then go ahead - I'm generous that way.)
I'm not falling as far behind with my study as I might. This is because I had planned to check out a couple of DVDs soon anyhow - I've brought that check forward and put the book work off til next week.
Early on, I needed to sort out the relationship between SF time travel narratives and the one I was writing. I read a lot of time travel books and saw some movies. I made a note to myself that some of this would need to be revisited after I'd done my first draft of the novel, just to check that I wasn't being daft. So that's been done. I didn't need to see everything - just a bit of Star Trek and a bit of Quantum leap. I made mental notes on what I needed to compare. And I'm fine, and it's done. Although if more time travel narrative magically appeared for watching on my DVD, I would not say no.
The other thing I need to look at is science documentaries. When I was checking popular narratives from this (not for the dissertation at all - mainly so that I didn't contradict popular science narratives without really good cause) I realised I'd have to do a bit of that again after the basic novel was written. So that's today and possibly some of tomorrow.
After that I must see Game of Thrones (ah, the agony!) for Martin uses popular spec fic narratives that bring in the Middle Ages. I know for certain I'm in conflict with these. I want to be able to articulate to myself how I am, and why. This may or may not appear during the dissertation, but it's important I do it. And that's the rest of the weekend, for Conor kindly let me borrow his copy. I also have the latest book from Conor, but reading that must wait.
None of this is core research, but it all helps me make sure my perspectives are where they need to be. And it means I don't lose track of where I am and get into the fug of doctoral depression, which is dreadfully easy to do at this stage, even when one doesn't have eye problems. And - biggest 'and' of all, need capitals - the TV is less harsh on my funky eye than the computer and I can walk away from it any time I need to without losing a second. it may not be nearly as central as the highly technical stuff I was supposed to be doing this week, but it advances things. For this I am very happy.
And, in other not-quite-news, I'm going to a quiz night tonight.
March 15, 2012
Women's History Month - Joanne Anderton
Ellis Rowan
It might seem strange for a fantasy, sci-fi and horror writer like myself to be inspired by a nineteenth century botanical artist, but (Marian) Ellis Rowan is just that kind of woman. Her art is beautiful, never ever forget that, but it's Ellis herself who has had, and continues to have, such an impact on me.
Ellis was passionate about her subject matter -- wildflowers, birds, and butterflies -- and went to great lengths to find them, and then painted them in exquisite detail. Even though much of the artistic establishment looked down their nose at her 'inferior' or 'vulgar' art, she held exhibitions all over the world, won medals and sold paintings -- Queen Victoria took three! After her husband's death she went on great adventures and risked her very wellbeing to follow her passion, trekking through Australia, New Zealand, the US and even New Guinea, discovering and painting new species as she went. She travelled rough, and I have always loved to imagine her in her Victorian get-up cutting a swathe through exotic forests, ever determined, always focused on her goal. And keep in mind she was in her 60s when she visited New Guinea!
For me, Ellis is a beacon. Her passion in the face of criticism, the adventurous spirit that took her outside of the notions of how we expect women, particularly older women, to behave. She was strong and she was brave. She also had a supportive husband, and suffered tragedies in his death, and the death of her son. That's the kind of strength I mean, to live through stuff like that, then pick up your paintbrush and go exploring.
The sad fact is that I've only come to know about Ellis Rowan relatively recently. I wish I could have learned about her when I studied art in high school. What an amazing role model for young, artistic women Ellis and her 'mere' wildflower paintings could be.
So she might not be a writer, but I have tried to take on Ellis Rowan's approach to creating art into my own writing. Create what you want to create, and be damned fearless about it. Don't sit still too long. And live your life, too.
***
Bio:
Joanne Anderton lives in Sydney with her husband and too many pets. By day she is a mild-mannered marketing coordinator for an Australian book distributor. By night, weekends and lunchtimes she writes dark fantasy, science fiction and horror. Her short fiction has most recently appeared in Midnight Echo #6 and Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine. Her debut novel, Debris (Book One the Veiled Worlds Series) was published by Angry Robot Books in 2011, and will be followed by Suited in 2012. Visit her online at: http://joanneanderton.com and on Twitter @joanneanderton
It might seem strange for a fantasy, sci-fi and horror writer like myself to be inspired by a nineteenth century botanical artist, but (Marian) Ellis Rowan is just that kind of woman. Her art is beautiful, never ever forget that, but it's Ellis herself who has had, and continues to have, such an impact on me.
Ellis was passionate about her subject matter -- wildflowers, birds, and butterflies -- and went to great lengths to find them, and then painted them in exquisite detail. Even though much of the artistic establishment looked down their nose at her 'inferior' or 'vulgar' art, she held exhibitions all over the world, won medals and sold paintings -- Queen Victoria took three! After her husband's death she went on great adventures and risked her very wellbeing to follow her passion, trekking through Australia, New Zealand, the US and even New Guinea, discovering and painting new species as she went. She travelled rough, and I have always loved to imagine her in her Victorian get-up cutting a swathe through exotic forests, ever determined, always focused on her goal. And keep in mind she was in her 60s when she visited New Guinea!
For me, Ellis is a beacon. Her passion in the face of criticism, the adventurous spirit that took her outside of the notions of how we expect women, particularly older women, to behave. She was strong and she was brave. She also had a supportive husband, and suffered tragedies in his death, and the death of her son. That's the kind of strength I mean, to live through stuff like that, then pick up your paintbrush and go exploring.
The sad fact is that I've only come to know about Ellis Rowan relatively recently. I wish I could have learned about her when I studied art in high school. What an amazing role model for young, artistic women Ellis and her 'mere' wildflower paintings could be.
So she might not be a writer, but I have tried to take on Ellis Rowan's approach to creating art into my own writing. Create what you want to create, and be damned fearless about it. Don't sit still too long. And live your life, too.
***
Bio:
Joanne Anderton lives in Sydney with her husband and too many pets. By day she is a mild-mannered marketing coordinator for an Australian book distributor. By night, weekends and lunchtimes she writes dark fantasy, science fiction and horror. Her short fiction has most recently appeared in Midnight Echo #6 and Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine. Her debut novel, Debris (Book One the Veiled Worlds Series) was published by Angry Robot Books in 2011, and will be followed by Suited in 2012. Visit her online at: http://joanneanderton.com and on Twitter @joanneanderton
gillpolack @ 2012-03-15T18:23:00
When I went to the library to collect stuff, I detoured via the greengrocer's. I walked out with 5 big peaches and 5 bags of Russian garlic. The garlic needed to be used immediately - it was cheap because it only had a little life left. I had too much salt. Now I have garlic slow-roasting in salt. I don't know if it will be a spread, part of a soup, or something else entirely, but it smells divine.
gillpolack @ 2012-03-15T11:55:00
The brain is an amazing thing. And my friends are - as so often - correct. My brain is relearning how to process vision and it's linking the processing to the rest of me. There's a correlation between how tired I am and how long I can spend doing things before I need to close my eyes. I can now do nearly 15 minutes on the computer at a stretch, and don't have to wait quite as long between sessions. I also want to sleep less (though when i get tired, it's a complete fatigue).
I still see things in my right eye - I will always see things in my right eye - but I'm getting used to it. This whole adjustment process will take a while, but I'm already at the stage where I can plan work (just off the computer, or in small, small segments). Things like proofreading are going to have to wait a while longer, but I've done a bit of research today. I find this immensely reassuring.
My eye tells me very clearly when it's done for a session. If I don't pay attention I get a bad headache. In fact, it's telling me now to get off the computer. Three paragraphs is obviously my visual limit today, when working on a white background. I'll be back later with your WHM guest for the day.
I still see things in my right eye - I will always see things in my right eye - but I'm getting used to it. This whole adjustment process will take a while, but I'm already at the stage where I can plan work (just off the computer, or in small, small segments). Things like proofreading are going to have to wait a while longer, but I've done a bit of research today. I find this immensely reassuring.
My eye tells me very clearly when it's done for a session. If I don't pay attention I get a bad headache. In fact, it's telling me now to get off the computer. Three paragraphs is obviously my visual limit today, when working on a white background. I'll be back later with your WHM guest for the day.
March 14, 2012
Women's History Month - Marty Young
When Gillian asked me to contribute to her feature on Women's History Month, the person who first sprung to mind was Kim Sassen. I doubt many folks out there have heard of Kim (this will soon change!), but she's an artist. Not completely Australian but plenty Australian enough (she was born in The Netherlands but we'll let her off this oversight).
I met Kim a few years ago when she moved in next door to me with her husband. One of the first paintings of hers I saw was this abstract landscape in vibrant colours of blues and yellows and oranges and purples; to me it was set on an alien world, one starkly different to our dear old Earth. It blew me away, captivated me, and transported me to this other planet. I was stranded there, but that was okay. Something would soon come into view to welcome me. My imagination was drunk with excitement, trying to envision what this thing would look like.
I've been a big fan ever since.
Moving from Holland to Australia in 2003, Kim said she found herself overwhelmed by the Australian landscape; the stark scenery and odd wildlife, the harsh lighting cast upon hardy mountainous trees, and even the cities clinging to the coastline in fear of the desert forever encroaching upon them. The move and the new surroundings evoked a lot of emotions and Kim began capturing these feelings upon canvas.
She is a very emotive painter, so her paintings are never the same. For instance, a trip to China resulted in some dark pieces that captured her view of the hectic country. After her outback trip, her paintings were expansive, almost sedate but still richly alive. In other paintings, heavy brushstrokes present stark anger and aggression, while softer colours mixing together show off her gentler side. The textures and variations are extraordinary, so much so that my wife and I recently commissioned Kim to paint a huge painting for our reading room; we (meaning me) asked for something set on a different world, thinking back to the very first piece I saw, and what she painted was better than we'd hoped for; a picturesque view of an alien landscape, looking out over a lake or ocean of some kind as the sun (or suns) set. I have no idea what fish or marine life exists in these waters, or what might fly over it, but I'm content to sit there and wait to find out. There was such depth to the piece that I think I lost part of my cantankerous muse there. He'll return one day, and when he does, I imagine he'll have all sorts of spectacular stories to guide me in writing.
Kim's paintings have been shown in diverse group and solo exhibitions in NSW, in private collections, and for the past couple of years, she has been painting commissions. A few years ago, Kim had the opportunity to take on a position as an art therapist teaching art to adults with intellectual disabilities. It's a position she said she has found immensely satisfying and rewarding, and it will be interesting to see how this transpires onto her canvasses.
I'm by no means an art expert, but what captures me most about Kim's paintings is the emotion within them, emotions that guide and help build the view itself. There is a whole world of sights within each picture, changing with the light or the viewing angle, or even with the mood of the viewer. The paintings are alive with imagination, and are a pure source of inspiration.
You can find out more about Kim and her work at her website.
BIO: Marty Young is a Bram Stoker nominated and Australian Shadows award winning editor, fiction and non-fiction writer, and sometimes ghost hunter. He was the founding President of the Australian Horror Writers Association from 2005-2010, and one of the creative minds behind the internationally acclaimed Midnight Echo magazine.
His horror fiction has been reprinted in Australian Dark Fantasy and Horror ('the best of 2008'), repeatedly included in Ellen Datlow's year's best recommended reading list, and nominated for both the Australian Shadows and Ditmar awards. Marty's essays on horror literature have been published in journals and university textbooks in Australia and India, and he is also co-editor of the award winning Macabre; a Journey through Australia's Darkest Fears, a landmark anthology showcasing the best Australian horror stories from 1836 to the present.
As of October 2011, he is the Executive Editor of Midnight Echo magazine (again), and is also the Associate Editor of the HWA's Dark Whispers blog.
I met Kim a few years ago when she moved in next door to me with her husband. One of the first paintings of hers I saw was this abstract landscape in vibrant colours of blues and yellows and oranges and purples; to me it was set on an alien world, one starkly different to our dear old Earth. It blew me away, captivated me, and transported me to this other planet. I was stranded there, but that was okay. Something would soon come into view to welcome me. My imagination was drunk with excitement, trying to envision what this thing would look like.
I've been a big fan ever since.
Moving from Holland to Australia in 2003, Kim said she found herself overwhelmed by the Australian landscape; the stark scenery and odd wildlife, the harsh lighting cast upon hardy mountainous trees, and even the cities clinging to the coastline in fear of the desert forever encroaching upon them. The move and the new surroundings evoked a lot of emotions and Kim began capturing these feelings upon canvas.
She is a very emotive painter, so her paintings are never the same. For instance, a trip to China resulted in some dark pieces that captured her view of the hectic country. After her outback trip, her paintings were expansive, almost sedate but still richly alive. In other paintings, heavy brushstrokes present stark anger and aggression, while softer colours mixing together show off her gentler side. The textures and variations are extraordinary, so much so that my wife and I recently commissioned Kim to paint a huge painting for our reading room; we (meaning me) asked for something set on a different world, thinking back to the very first piece I saw, and what she painted was better than we'd hoped for; a picturesque view of an alien landscape, looking out over a lake or ocean of some kind as the sun (or suns) set. I have no idea what fish or marine life exists in these waters, or what might fly over it, but I'm content to sit there and wait to find out. There was such depth to the piece that I think I lost part of my cantankerous muse there. He'll return one day, and when he does, I imagine he'll have all sorts of spectacular stories to guide me in writing.
Kim's paintings have been shown in diverse group and solo exhibitions in NSW, in private collections, and for the past couple of years, she has been painting commissions. A few years ago, Kim had the opportunity to take on a position as an art therapist teaching art to adults with intellectual disabilities. It's a position she said she has found immensely satisfying and rewarding, and it will be interesting to see how this transpires onto her canvasses.
I'm by no means an art expert, but what captures me most about Kim's paintings is the emotion within them, emotions that guide and help build the view itself. There is a whole world of sights within each picture, changing with the light or the viewing angle, or even with the mood of the viewer. The paintings are alive with imagination, and are a pure source of inspiration.
You can find out more about Kim and her work at her website.
BIO: Marty Young is a Bram Stoker nominated and Australian Shadows award winning editor, fiction and non-fiction writer, and sometimes ghost hunter. He was the founding President of the Australian Horror Writers Association from 2005-2010, and one of the creative minds behind the internationally acclaimed Midnight Echo magazine.
His horror fiction has been reprinted in Australian Dark Fantasy and Horror ('the best of 2008'), repeatedly included in Ellen Datlow's year's best recommended reading list, and nominated for both the Australian Shadows and Ditmar awards. Marty's essays on horror literature have been published in journals and university textbooks in Australia and India, and he is also co-editor of the award winning Macabre; a Journey through Australia's Darkest Fears, a landmark anthology showcasing the best Australian horror stories from 1836 to the present.
As of October 2011, he is the Executive Editor of Midnight Echo magazine (again), and is also the Associate Editor of the HWA's Dark Whispers blog.
