THE UNIVERSE DRAWS YOU OUT LIKE A MULTI-DIMENSIONAL HORIZON

The Universe Draws You Out Like A Multi-Dimensional Horizon [Inspired by Tim Winton]
Oil on linen 50 x 50 cm

 

 

I am again going to refer to Australian author Tim Winton's wonderful speech The Island Seen and Felt: Some Thoughts About Landscapes: presented at the Royal Academy in London, November 2013. You can listen to it at the Royal Academy's site HERE

 

My previous posts, where I wax lyrical about the speech, are ENCOUNTERING LANDSCAPE and FALLING OUT INTO IT The latter is also the title of a new painting, inspired by a phrase in Winton's speech.

 

Now to another of Winton's phrases which also struck chords with me, On my island the heavens draw you out like a multidimensional horizon... His island, is Australia...my island too.

 

Regular readers will totally 'get' why this phrase grabbed my heart and my imagination. I often write about my ideas on the need to develop skills in seeing multi-perspectives [even simultaneously]. I am sure that modern cosmology, with its exciting explorations into close and far distances, is inviting us to see new perspectives. AND, with these new and multiple perspectives, potentially seen simultaneously, who knows what new questions and answers, ie: metaphoric horizons, will be revealed!

 

So...yes...perspective invites us to also consider horizons, both literal and metaphoric. Indeed, contemporary cosmological research is pushing our horizons in all directions. For example, the Universe maybe a Multiverse...now that's a huge shift in horizon don't you think! But Winton's words that the heavens [ie: the Universe/Night sky] draw you out like a multidimensional horizon suggest that horizons are not just 'out there' but that they exist within us, as if we are landscape too, as if we have horizons imbedded in our psyches connecting us with the Universal landscape of existence. As Winton's speech seems to suggest, in the distance of the Australian landscape there's space to sense these horizons, be absorbed by them, discover new ones...or maybe even return to them?

 

My new painting above The Universe Draws You Out Like A Multi-Dimensional Horizon is one of the images that came to my mind when I read Winton's evocative words. The three coloured lines create amorphous shapes which mirror many of the patterns and shapes seen under a microscope, but also seen in Space. The play between the micro and macro is deliberate, yet at the same time the viewer feels drawn into a portal, as if finally finding a connection to the Universe, in all its diversity...a dance with all horizons.

3D
Many of my paintings go 3D when viewed with 3D glasses [not the movie ones though...simple ones] and this painting is one of them. The longer you look at it the more 3D it goes with each line separating even further as if it is tugging at you...yes tugging at your inner horizons!

 

Are We There Yet? Oil on linen 80 x 140 cm 2013

 

 

THE MOON

Two interesting website/articles have made me think more about horizons...being drawn out of us. One is a collaborative artwork/project called The Moon by two famous artists, Ai Weiwei and Olafur Eliasson. It's a site where, once logged in, people can draw on the Moon! You can read more about the project in a ARTnews article  'How Ai Weiwei and Olafur Eliasson Got 35,000 People to Draw on the Moon' by Robin Cembalest. You can draw on the Moon by clicking HERE [Firefox or Chrome].

 

The Moon project is interesting because it gets people thinking beyond Earth-bound horizons, even if they are doing in the short distance between themselves and their computer. It is also significant because as Ai Weiwei is restricted from leaving China, yet he is able to collaborate with Olafur Eliasson in a project that has attracted thousands of people from around the world... AND, it's 'on the moon'! This poses interesting questions about man-made boundaries and borders, which indeed pale into insignificance when 'viewed' with a lunar, or even better a cosmic, perspective. The power of imagination is up to the challenge to breakdown restrictions that keep perspective limited! I think projects like Ai Weiwei's and Eliasson's The Moon are more than important.

 

THE FIRST ASTRONOMERS

The second thing of interest is a fascinating article in The Melbourne Age called The First Astronomers, by Andi Horvath. It's an article about Australian Indigenous Astronomy. As the opening sentence says As Australia has the oldest continuous culture on Earth, the first Australians were very likely to have also been the first astronomers. The article goes onto discuss how astrophysicist Ray Norris and wildlife expert Cilla Norris in 2008 documented Aboriginal Astronomy stories told by community elders. This resulted in their book Emu Dreaming: An Introduction To Australian Aboriginal Astronomy. The Melbourne Age article goes onto discuss astrophysicist Alan Duffy's recent experiences, teaching indigenous and non-indigenous astronomy, in schools in the Pilbara.

 

There is one section of the article that got me really thinking...yes about perspective...and horizons:

Dr Duffy explained to the students that Indigenous astronomy is a great example of how sophisticated Aboriginal science and culture was through its development. He also explored the fundamental difference in the way traditional European astronomy conceives the constellations by connecting the dots of stars to form pictures attributed to Greek mythology, whereas Aboriginal astronomy connects not just the stars but also the black spaces in-between. Two different ways of viewing the same night’s sky!

"The school kids were very excited by the “emu in the sky” which stretches out in what European astronomers call the Milky Way,” he says. “Once you see it, you can never look at the Milky Way the same way again. As a constellation, it is far more convincing than the obscure European pictures."

So...for me key phrases are: Two different ways of viewing the same night’s sky! and ...you can never look at the Milky Way the same way again. Methinks Tim Winton's observation that On my island the heavens draw you out like a multidimensional horizon...is spot on!

Cheers,
Kathryn
www.kathrynbrimblecombe-fox.com

 

FALLING OUT INTO IT

Falling Out Into It Oil on linen 70 x 120 cm 2014
[Inspired By Time Winton]

At night in the desert the sky sucks at you, star-by-star, galaxy-by-galaxy. You feel as if you could fall out into it at any moment. It's terrifyingly vertiginous.

[Quote: 'Wild Brown Land' an edited transcript in 'The Australian' December 14, 2013 of The Island Seen and Felt: Some Thoughts About Landscapes by well known Australian author Tim Winton, presented to the Royal Academy, London, November 14, 2013.] You can listen to the speech HERE

AMAZING WORDS
Tim Winton's words are amazing. When I read them, and others, images popped into my head and resonances were deeply felt. In a recent post  ENCOUNTERING LANDSCAPE I write more generally about the speech and my reaction to it. However, there are some phrases that have stayed with me, their words mulled over, eliciting the kind images in my mind that asked to be painted.

I grew up on a grain farm on the flat treeless Pirrinuan Plain, outside Dalby on the Darling Downs, Queensland, Australia. I remember vertiginous feelings when, as a child, I'd lie on soft clover staring at the sky. I remember my Dad had a marvellous vegetable garden that also grew the lushest clover. I'd lay down on it and immediately feel like I was flying and sinking at the same time...that is until the day I noticed the prickles had started to form!

The vast sky of my childhood, uninterrupted by mountains or trees, has stayed with me. During the day it was mostly a relentless blue. But, now and then storm clouds would roll majestically across the plain. These clouds, nuanced with colours of grey, black and indigo blue were sometimes tinged with a green hue, a sign of hail. At night the sky, if uncluttered by clouds, glittered with the Milky Way, a swathe of jewel-like lights. My grandmother, a keen star gazer, often took my brothers and me out into the night to see various constellations, our necks bent back so we could take it all in. However, a stormy night sky was another experience. Lightning giving momentary spotlight to features we knew well, as if demanding us to take notice.

'...FALL OUT INTO IT.'
So, the quote from Tim Winton's speech grabbed my attention! The significant bit is fall out into it. Not fall out from it, but fall out into it, as if gravity might release its grip on us. These beautifully simple few words capture so much of my thoughts about perspective, distance...and the possibilities that new ways of seeing, new perspectives, can reveal different questions and answers to the issues that plague humanity.

We possibly need to feel a sense of terrifying vertigo in order to disrupt the norm, to recalibrate senses, to disturb the status quo, to re-ignite awe and wonder...and more. To deliberately welcome this kind of disruption, and even agitate for it, is quite subversive, don't you think? Agitation does not have to be outrageous, aggressive or in-your-face. Indeed, maybe a deliberately
contemplative state leading to a kind of dizziness that helps to ultimately shift perspective is more revolutionary than trying really hard to make a point via didactic means, aggressive and not? Maybe, lying down on the grass to stare at the sky, welcoming that sense of falling into it, is all we need to do, both literally and metaphorically. Yes, let's look up from our smart phones and computers!

I love the idea of 'falling out into it' for another, but related reason. Regular readers will know of my interest in untethering notions of 'landscape' from Earth-bound horizons. The idea of 'falling out into it'...into the Universe...is a way to assist imagination to grasp the concept! The cosmos is calling, imploring...

Falling Out Into It Oil on linen 70 x 120 cm 2014
So, to my new painting. With Falling Out Into It I wanted to create a 'landscape' that was ambiguous in orientation and locale. I wanted a sense of transparency where parts of the landscape revealed the cosmos through itself, as if the viewer could move into and beyond the 'landscape', like a traveller through time and matter, ultimately becoming time and matter... or maybe remembering them? I wanted to create a sense that the viewer was literally falling out into the night sky, the Universe. Yet, there's a possibility of grabbing onto the 'landscape' of mountains too, before letting go and travelling further...! Metaphorically speaking...think of the possibilities for psyche.

Falling Out Into It is similar to another painting I did last year. Multiple Landscapes [below] also has a sense of disorientation. It's a painting that explores the possibility of seeing multiple perspectives, even simultaneously. And, I'd suggest that in a vertiginous state one would see multiple landscapes especially if you kept your eyes open! Now there's a clue....

Multiple Landscapes Oil on linen 80 x 140 cm 2013

Happy New Year to you all!
Cheers,
Kathryn

ENCOUNTERING LANDSCAPE

The Beginning of Everything oil on linen 90 x 180 cm 2010

 

In this post:

1. A reflection on an excellent speech made by well known Australian author Tim Winton

2. Good news about some sales! 

 

 

The Island Seen and Felt: Some Thoughts About Landscapes:
by well known Australian author Tim Winton

There's an article in last weekend's Weekend Australian Review [Dec 14-15] called 'Wild Brown Land'. It is an edited transcript of The Island Seen and Felt: Some Thoughts About Landscapes by well known Australian author Tim Winton, presented to the Royal Academy, London, November 14, 2013. It was a fascinating read. But, even better, you can hear the speech by clicking HERE The speech/article is a heartfelt and important reminder of why we need to take note of landscape, paying attention to writers and artists who continue to be preoccupied with it.

So much of what Tim Winton said/wrote resonated with me, even his first encounters with the European landscape during the 1980s. I too was travelling to Europe for the first time, with excited anticipation of seeing the landscapes I had only seen in paintings and photographs. I totally understand what Tim Winton felt when he says, In the first instance I struggled with scale. In Europe the dimensions of physical space seemed compressed. The looming vertical presence of mountains cut me off from the distant horizon. I remember driving from Italy into Switzerland and feeling locked in, as if the intense beautiful green mountains would swamp me. I remember remarking to my travelling partner that I longed to see distance.

Winton not only describes European landscapes as compressed, but that they are also humanised ie: evidence of human activity and presence is everywhere. This is definitely something I noticed and felt on my first encounters with the European landscape. The landscape space was occupied, often transformed. Whereas the Australian landscape of my childhood, living on a flat treeless black soil plain, and early married life, living further west with prickly plants and red dirt, certainly did not feel dominated by human forces. Indeed, there were always reminders that nature held the upper hand...flood, drought, wild storms, insect plagues, searing heat. The built environment of houses, homesteads, sheds, tanks etc did not provide spaces that could wilfully ignore the outside. Yes, they could be refuges, but not enough to obscure the elements. Flyscreens only kept out a percentage of insects, snakes could slither under and into houses and sheds [even tractor cabins]....whirlwinds spread dust into every cavity, fire sent soot and smell, cracked earth shifted building foundations, the heat blistered paint and varnish...So, I really, really 'get it' when Winton says, Australia is a place with more geography than architecture, where openness trumps enclosure.

Through The Flyscreen oil on linen 80 x 100 cm 2002

The distance in the Australian landscape is not empty, but replete with life forces and a spirit. They rise from the primordial dust. For me this distance, both intimate and vast, holds clues to dextrous understanding of  perspective. As regular readers know, I am fascinated by perspective, especially in an age where new cosmological research is revealing horizons never before dreamed of. For me, the Australian landscape is a preparatory teacher of perspective, even my much touted multi-perspective experienced simultaneously...but are we brave enough to listen and learn? There is certainly a kind of 'safety' in the closed distances of cities, but it's the myopic distances of technology that concern me more. By this I mean the literal distance between a phone, computer, tablet and user...where 'entertainment', 'community' and 'connection' are 'experienced'. Metaphorically speaking this diminished distance perhaps does not bode well for imagination, laterality, independence.

Cosmic Dust oil on linen 120 x 160 cm 2011

Even, buildings have windows to look out of, but where are the 'windows' to create a textured experience in the distance between person and phone? I am reminded of my recent posts where I discuss the metaphor of 'looking out the windows'...please check them out: Looking Out The Windows and Looking In The rear Vision Mirror - Cosmically Speaking

Now to something else Tim Winton said...On my island the heavens draw you out like a multidimensional horizon...I just love this! Can I repeat... the heavens draw you out like a multidimensional horizon. The cosmos has the ability to draw out of us a multidimensional horizon! Regular readers will know why I am excited by this sentence. To me this is perspective teasing out the potency that exists within and all around us. The potency that an Australian landscape is replete with. Distance connecting us to the cosmos. We are the essence of horizon, like everything else...and not just one horizon, but a multi-dimensional one! And, if this is the case, learning skills in multi-perspective should not need to be learnt, but remembered...don't you think?

And, again from Winton At night in the desert the sky sucks at you, star-by-star, galaxy-by-galaxy. You feel as if you could fall out into it at any moment. It's terrifyingly vertiginous. I need to repeat another short and excellent phrase...fall out into it... Note Winton does not say 'fall from it'. That would be far too simple for a being who has been drawn out like a multidimensional horizon!

Galactic Horizons and Beyond oil on linen 85 x 150 cm 2012

Winton ends by discussing the sense of patriotism that is born from a reverence for land. He says, Patriotism has evolved to include a reverence for the land itself, and the passion to defend the natural world as if it were family. I am reminded of the passionate displays of protest regarding the environment that reverberate around the world. In Australia two issues [related] that excite passion are potential threats to the Great Barrier Reef and coal seam gas extraction, a process that certainly does transform a landscape, both on top and below. Winton goes on to say that this reverence for land, and defence of the natural world, are reasons for why artists and writers, especially Australian ones, return to it. If he's right about the drawing out of us a multidimensional horizon then we also have the capacity to defend with cosmic perspectives...!

SALES:
Over the last few weeks I've had some painting go to lovely homes: Three in fact...!
The two most recent sales are Sending Love and Night Time Electric Storm

Cheers,
Kathryn
www.kathrynbrimblecombe-fox.com