Tuesday, 14 February 2017

REFUSE REFUGE


Refuse Refuge? Part 1

This is the worst image I saw this year. As you can imagine it was on Television. A vision from Afghanistan. A small girl child, of about five, was lying in bed in a makeshift hospital. She had picked up an un-exploded cluster bomb, a bright yellow plaything compliments of the U.S. While exploring this newfound toy it exploded, removing in one swift and horrible moment her beautiful little hand. The image which is staying with me and which is burned into my brain is that of her mother entering the ward and the confused crying child placing her good arm around her mother’s neck. I am seeing this image from behind. The back of the mother and the small vulnerable arm. This gesture of trust, this hug which places heart to heart, so unnerved me I wept and had to turn off the TV. I felt like turning it off for good. I had seen too much misery for one year. But turning off the TV didn’t mean the image went away.  

What was it about this which grieved me so. Maybe this. I have a small girl child friend of about five. When I visit I always pick her up and experience the unquestioned trust in that small gesture of her placing an arm around my neck. I also often watch her being picked up by her parents and delight in observing the same gesture. The placing of the small arm around the adults neck in Total Trust of the adult world. Or maybe I was upset by the following. Going back for a moment to the image of that useless little dead hand lying somewhere in a small rural Afghanistan village where the people have no history with those who bomb them. Imagine the aftermath of this relevantly small event of which there are so many. (All of these brutalities, for the moment, concentrated in this destroyed small child’s hand). What did this carelessly dropped raw cluster bomb take away. Many possibilities. Many possibilities to make, to draw, to paint, to prepare food, to garden, to sew, many possibilities to touch, many possibilities to caress, many possibilities to wave, many possibilities to gesture. All possibilities to create the most simple experiences of a life. There are thousands of these people for which this constant terror is, and has been, a daily experience for a long time now. Some of these people can’t take anymore and have decided to leave the land of their birth (imagine that) and find a somewhat safer place elsewhere. And in so doing risk everything. We have recently seen some of these displaced people appear on our TV screens. Crammed onto boats. We label these people illegal immigrants. These people whom some politicians label ‘Possible Terrorists’.

When you repeat a lie often enough most people will start to accept it as the truth, especially when the lie is based on common fear. The fear of not knowing. The fear of not understanding. Blind fear.

If what we are now doing with the refugees is right what is there left to be done that is wrong? What can we, sitting here safely, well fed, well clothed, oon fully Christmassed, possibly do about this terrible state of affairs. Turn off the TV when it becomes too much? Why are we, as a nation so afraid of a relative few people who have only misery to carry with them? Why are we as a nation so accepting of those continuous lies, cleverly based on our fears? Do we actually question this, or is it all too difficult.

I heard an interview with a New Zealand commentator who explained that in New Zealand the government gives refugees work visas. It has turned out that most of these people make excellent immigrants. Why? Most probably because they are resourceful and because they share. Abilities we, in the main, seem to have lost in the comfort zone of our wellbeing.

Refuse Refuge? Part 2

I was a refugee once. All non-indigenous people in this country are, or have been, in their histories. We all looked for ‘refuge’ in a new land, for whatever reason. I am a boat person and, like many people, arrived in the late fifties to a land of promise. This land filled with promises was actually pretty empty. The promises only those which we could create for ourselves. Empty, with many possibilities to colour in. To fill with ideas, to fill with creativity, to fill with culture.

But, you’ll say, there was a culture, a rich Aboriginal culture. However, this was almost wiped out by the Anglo culture which preceded us newcomers by a mere couple of centuries. I do not know exactly what this Anglo culture brought to this land but I remember that it felt empty in the fifties when we arrived from many other parts of Europe. Since I arrived with a knowledge of the Patisserie I can only comment on the food  aspect of the culture. I most vividly remember the food consciousness at the time. Little pastry boxes filled with questionable meat stuffs. Pasty Pasties. Poor quality white bread. The culinary delight of the Adelaide floater. The refined taste of the vanilla slices. And the endless stream of mono tasting beer. Wine? Wine, I was told at the time, was for poofters.  

As a result of the arrival of the post W.W. 2 refugees, then called New Australians, Ities, Wogs and the like, the culture has changed a great deal. Not only the food culture but the culture in general has been enriched as a result of what these refugees brought with them and, additionally, were able to do with their skills in this country. A big large open space ready for a creative approach, some resourcefulness, some daring. Some different ideas. Wine? Our wine is now among the best in the world. This is the result of change. Not the result of the stagnation of a culture in a fortified place.

Has anyone, voting for ‘the fear view of the world of refugee acceptance’, considered for a few moments the possible positive side of the refugee crisis aspect? Considered this as a possible gift?  Considered the newness which these people would bring with them? Considered the energy which they would offer us? Consider the gratefulness they would carry in their hearts? Has anyone maybe tried to think where they came from. Tried to think what it took them to get here. They must be incredible human beings. And maybe that’s what makes us so uneasy? Their strength and resourcefulnes.

The government told us there was a crisis. I have always believed that a crisis offers  many gifts for learning on a plate. Are we taking note? Or are we allowing this wonderful opportunity to pass us by? The gift for the possibility of endless compassion. The gift for an understanding that to take in a few more people who seek refuge would create the possibility for change, for movement and for a different view. The more points of view we can bring to our world, the larger it becomes. It involves taking a risk. Every step taken outside your comfort zone does. Consider the prize. Ask the many young Australian travellers exploring new lands who, as a result, are learning and enriching themselves. However, on the other hand not taking steps outside your comfort zone would result in an even more scary situation, down the track.

This brings me to the second worst thing I saw ever. Again on Television. People jumping from the ‘perceived’ comfort zone of the World Trade Towers. Everything is connected. That little hand blown off was the indirect result of that event. But what brought that event about in the first place? Where did this event have its roots? People who have dared to speculate have been labelled un-American and most probably un-Australian as well. Think about it. In the end the ultimate result was a child’s little hand dead to many of the possibilities a life offers. The least we could do is offer a little more generous point of view. Happy christmas!

                                             Petrus                                                                                                                 
art@petrusspronk.com



Friday, 23 September 2016

AChallengingArtProject

the spirit of the broken bowl, restored into a new life

A challenging art project

At the start of this project, I am guided by Ann Michaels, who wrote in her book 'fugitive pieces': "Important lessons. Look carefully. Record what you see. Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful."

Being an artist, my life ticks along in a wonderful way from one creative project to another, be it a commission, an exhibition or a piece of writing. Each project presents a challenge to make it worthwhile, because without a challenge it would not provide any learning.

None of my projects have been as challenging, however, as my most recent one. This project announced itself, to my surprise, with the diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease eight years ago. I knew instinctively that I was up for the major challenge of my life. Medication has kept the disease at bay for much of those years but more recently that has changed.

After some time of contemplation, to come to grips with this news, I decided to treat this as just another art project. Getting involved. I also decided to change the name from Parkinson’s disease to Parkinson’s gift, which has already changed my attitude in a more positive direction. Up till now I have kept my Parkinson’s quiet but having become more obvious, I have decided to make it more public.

During a recent words in winter event I started this with the reading:

“When you are a maker, listen to your hands”. To which we can add, ‘because the head sometimes gets in the way’. This is a saying which has always worked for me. That is until recently when the Parkinson’s I was diagnosed with some years ago, but which was kept under control by medication, is now snapping at my heels. This means that my head and hands go into different directions and have a totally different relationship than I am used to.

“When you are given lined paper, write the other way”, has been creative  advice I have always followed, but now this is getting too real, my hands are writing every which way, none of which I want them to.

My gait has changed, so if you see me in the street and I walk a bit differently I am not under the influence of alcohol or dope, but that of my Parkinson’s, who insists on walking with me everywhere I go, and wherever possible trip me up.

My memory is affected to the point where, at times, I cannot remember the names of people I have known for years. 

The worst of it is that my ceramic making seems to be almost at an end, because the fine motor skills I need to employ are the most affected. However such is my life and I will keep the creative spirit going in one way or another. Because it is, and has always been, the meaning of my life.

I am not giving in, I will use the same approach as when I was diagnosed with cancer, the treatment of which I aided by making it into an art project, which helped me to cope”.

Although with all my previous art projects I have been in charge, this newest one has taken charge of me. I have very little say in it. In fact, I know little about it and found out soon enough that this project, of which I am the subject, is directed mostly by doctors.

In order to get some sort of handle on this new development of my life, I decided, as part of the gift, to document the process. And now, looking at the diagnosis of my Parkinson’s in a different way, there waits the possibility for these coming experiences to be interpreted through art.

The Parkinson’s diagnosis, like any challenging art project, has knocked me out of my comfort zone, this one more so than any.

I am like a small boat on a rough sea. I do have a paddle and am able to give it some direction, some meaning. I intend to employ my imagination and by turning the event into a work of art I, at least, have that control. And since this is the only control I have, I'll take it.

Learning is the best healer.

petrus



Monday, 20 June 2016

InDefenceOfPublicSculpture

In defence of public sculpture

Whenever a writer, an artist, an architect or any practitioner of the arts places his or her work in the public domain there will always be those who like it and those who don’t. This can result in controversy. If artists were to respond to every criticism they would never create anything.

In all fields of life there is so much more beyond our own experience. It is the artist’s job to show the way by courageously exploring the new. In my view, liking an artwork is not really what matters. It’s more a question of how art challenges us or finds a way to speak to us, to open up a new awareness.
I remember a public sculpture by Ron Robertson Swan designed for the Town Square in central Melbourne. The sculpture, accepted by the Council, was vilified by then City of Melbourne Mayor who, using art as a political football, renamed it the ‘yellow peril’ from ‘the vault’. This new ‘title’ stuck and shaped the general public’s response to the art work. Is there, I wonder, a role for our leaders to guide citizens into an understanding of new artworks?
All this says less about the quality of art and more about people who stoke the flames of artificially created controversies. They have not done the work, have not taken the risks, their lives and livelihood are not bound up at every moment with what they are making, who have given thought to the medium or the method. Artists take risks by exposing their ideas in the public realm. At every moment their lives are bound up with whatever they are making, with exploring new boundaries.
Many years ago I designed a work for Swanston Street Melbourne- a shard of architecture emerging out of the pavement- may hated the idea, thought it was inappropriate and expressed these sentiments even before the work was installed. However, I persevered and the council saw its merit even if not many amongst the populace did. In time, the work was installed and has since grown to become one of Melbourne’s icons plus a well loved sculpture.
Over the years the sculpture has gained popularity and received awards locally and internationally: a Melbourne newspaper poll voted it the most popular sculpture in town. Recently it was included in an internet survey of the top 25 creative sculptures around the world. The prestigious magazine ‘Architectural Digest’ included ‘Architectural Fragment’ as one amongst eleven of the most fascinating sculptures in the world.

I remember the hullabaloo created by citizens of Melbourne when plans for that huge sculpture, which is Federation Square, were made public. Since then it has become one of the most loved and popular meeting places in the land. The new and change are always challenging. But without change and the new we would still be in the dark ages.

There were similar controversies surrounding the Sydney opera house, another iconic blend of architecture and sculpture that now, along with Uluru, is the image representing Australia to many around world.     

Arts advisory panels exist all around the world promoting creative endeavours within their communities, connecting past, present and future, opening our eyes to things we may not see, unlocking rooms that may be closed within us, helping to make meaning of our lives and, in the words of Anne Michaels ‘to find a way to make beauty necessary and a way to make necessity beautiful’.

I will leave you with the following thought. During the Second World War, Winston Churchill’s finance minister said Britain should cut arts funding to support the war effort. Churchill’s response: “Then what are we fighting for?”

petrus

       

Sunday, 19 June 2016

ThoughtsOnAWintersday

 

a beautiful visual moment to savor

 

thoughts on an introspective winter’s day


It is interesting that it takes the experience of the start of the ‘forever sleep’ of one person to awaken another. Following one such event, this question arrived for me. Am I using the days I have left well? Like today for instance. A normal everyday day, but with a difference. It is one of those glorious early winter days. A fresh clear morning followed by a warm sunny day. How do I spend such a day well. Enjoy it? Realising that it is happening? Acknowledging it? I decided to take notice of the seasons and start this exercise by giving these moments of wonder some attention.

The Rain has washed the trees dustless, creating in the green a vibrancy which can be felt. The type of vibrant green just before autumn turns it golden. The sun shines gently warm and the blue of the sky has a soft edge. A seemingly perfect background for the grey thrush, with a song so clear, with a sound so clean, with a melody so charming, with a resonance so wide and overwhelming as to fill up, to the point of the divine, the whole of the moment. A moment of wonder. Drink this moment, hold it close to your heart.

Light and death

Each day contains some magic, all we need to do is open our eyes to it and jump aboard while it passes by. How could we not take notice, How could we deny this. Why else are we here. Ride the beauty of the moment so that, when just before being placed in our own box, we will not feel any ‘regret’. (Regret is and has always been an absolute waste of time. There are so many better ways of using the moment.)

As the other evening a little before sunset. I watched at the edge of a foreign lake while an empty old wooden boat, on fire, floated slowly on the still water mirror. A fisherman cremating his past. A moment filled brimful with poetic content. A sight where, for the moment, nothing else was needed. I hold this moment close to my heart.

Life and dark

As the other morning, the sky the colour of slate, clouds so low the tops of the trees in the forest were invisible. As if the trees were suspended from the clouds. From this grey space huge colourful flowers dropped onto the ground, only to rise again a little later to re-enter that same space of nothingness. Fluttering feeding Rosellas. I held this moment in both hands.

None of this needs any economic rationale or development to be appreciated, rather, it needs a tiny shift in attitude, or a smack in the head such as the death of a dear one, when all of a sudden a few things become clear. As clear as a drop of dew mirroring our dreams, and the immense size of the world filled with moments of wonder. A world so much bigger than our concerns.

Light and death

I take notes from one of my teachers. A big fat white goose, who lives on the pond at the bottom of the garden. After all, when all is said and done, she finishes up in the same place as we all do. How does she spend her day. She floats upon the water with the grace of a galleon. Then banks and performs the most exquisite ballet-like yoga exercises/stretches. While engaged in this, her shape becomes a living kinetic sculpture. She preens endlessly, then tucks her head under her wing, pulls one leg up under her feather skirt and snoozes her inner landscapes into reality. What is its purpose? What is its meaning?

I also take notice from another one of my teachers. I remember four year old Lutea, my creative guardian, in my garden, who, after having struggled to open a long dark dried bean pod, stands there momentarily wondering unbelievingly at the beauty of a set of six polished purple and black beans lined up inside. Surprise. I try to keep my heart open for moments such as these.

 

Life and dark

I wish not ever to say: “I wish I had…….”.


Petrus           
                                                                                   
art@petrusspronk.com

Wednesday, 13 April 2016

TheArtIgnorant2




a p.s. to my last blog
with an apology to those 
who find it hard to read the red font

just another thought about the work of the panel 
and those in creswick who are busy 
trying to undermine that work

allow me to comfort you dear creswick citizens
with the thought that when i was in the same position 
 designing the 'architectural fragment' 
many hated the idea of a piece of broken architecture 
     in the main street of melbourne, 
but i persevered and won the council over 
although not many of the populace
however, in time, the work got installed 
and has grown into one of melbourne's icons 
and a very well loved sculpture
which over the years has received a few awards 
of being the most popular sculpture in town 
and recently was included in 
the top 25 creative sculptures in the world.
and more recently the prestigious magazine 
architectural digest
 surveyed 11 of the world's most fascinating
sculptures and the fragment was one of them

so, dear citizens of creswick
please hang in there
don't take any notice of those undermining the work
you'll be surprised what will eventuate
when the work is in place and people, 
especially through the eyes of their kids,
will start to enjoy it  

and it will be a much visited and photographed work
 just like my fragment

petrus april 2016





















Monday, 4 April 2016

TheArtIgnorant


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A few thoughts about art and the ignorant

Whenever writer or an artist or an architect, or any practitioner of the arts makes his or her work public there will always be those that like it and those that do not. This will usually result in some sort of a controversy. Therefore if you are engaged in one of those cultural fields you better have a thick skin. Because if you take any notice of these criticisms from the ill informed, you will never create anything.

A case in point is the proposal for the public sculpture for Creswick‘s Calembeen park. With which councillor Henderson is playing childish games, especially since he sat in when the arts panel was deliberating and had a chance to make remarks, and the remarks he made during that meeting where encouraging. Then in last week’s paper the same councillor Henderson who seemed to agree to the choice of the arts panel, since there was no protest from him, when they met to deliberate, is now appearing in the local paper with another sculptor and his lump of cement parading as an alternative sculpture, stating that the locals were unhappy with ‘dearest’, with the ‘local campaigner’ (and what does that exactly mean) Kronenberg, getting in his few bob’s worth by starting the rumour to call the sculpture the wrecking ball and thus undermining the work.

All this says nothing about the art, but plenty about the people stoking the flames of this artificially created controversy. The ignorant, the lazy, the plain confused and ill informed have not done the work, have not taken the risks, whose live and livelihood are not bound up at every moment with what they are making, who have given no thought to the medium or the method but will momentarily glance up from their latte or beer and make their lukewarm statements as if they know about art.

They show the Creswick audience that they can absorb in a few moments, and without any effort the sum total of the artist and his art.

How do you think the artist feels when he, in good faith, puts his idea forward to the arts panel whom, in good faith, deliberated and came to their conclusion, which they then presented to the council. They are only advising and the council makes the final and in this case, the right decision.    

I stated before that as an artist you need a thick skin, it seems that in Creswick as an artist you need an extra thick skin.

Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one’s courage and to be an artist you have to be courageous

Petrus spronk. artist

TakingTheWildOutOffWildlife


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                                                Taking the wild out of wildlife



The morning is autumn, fresh and cool but promising a warm sunny day. All seems well in the world, until a scream tears a hole in the peaceful morning silence. Until a car driving through the forest hits a kangaroo and leaves it, with its joey still in its pouch, lying on the side of the road. The driver, either in a hurry or not caring, or plainly bereft of any feeling, drives on.



Meanwhile the kangaroo and its joey unable to move are discovered by a couple of people, more caring who, on a morning walk along the track, find the kangaroo and desperately want to help. However, since they are from the city and just do not know what to do in such an event, are at a loss of how to deal with it. Having only just passed my house they decide to knock on my door and ask me for advice. Luckily I am home and I know exactly what to do. I call the guardian angels John and Gail, the loving spirits of the local wild life shelter.



Besides acting as doctors for many animals, they are also the ambulance service to collect them, from wherever they are found, plus caring nurses during the time the animals are at their care. Plus more, so much more.



Soon after I call, John arrives and after having examined the damage and sedated the kangaroo places her in his car and takes her home. Here he and his partner Gail will mend the damage and nurse her back to health, after which they’ll release her back into the forest. This is a day and night commitment of being present to collect, give first aid, nurse and care for their charges.



It is here, tucked away in the wombat forest, that John Rowdon and Gail Chappel, both environmental scientists, practice their particular concept of love for animals. Besides the kangaroos, which are the most represented, there are all sorts of animals in need of care. Their place is a veritable zoo. including a variety of birds, wombats, koalas, they even have an emu. Plus a  variety of reptiles.



John and Gail, work, or should I say slave, away and practice compassion and empathy by creating a healing and gentle-life in their wild-life shelter. With much love and even more patience they have worked away for many years to look after wild life which has been damaged by fencing, by cars and more and more by dogs.



During one year, for instance, they responded to 700 calls. There were 140 kangaroos, 32 wallabies, 30 wombats, 32 possums, 5 gliders, 23 koalas, 152 birds, 5 lizards, 3 echidnas, 11 micro bats, plus 1 phascogale. Of those animals 82 were euthanized due to their injuries and 76 died. 276 made it back into the wild.



This number of animals needing care has greatly increased today due to the drought. The animals come closer to where people live, and to the roads on the side of which they like to graze due to the availability of native grasses there, which they favour.



All this begs the question; how do they raise the funds to carry on their remarkable work. The shelter is in need of food, medicines, bandages, potions, syringes and blankets and probably many more costs that I do not know about.



So dear readers let’s get together on this project. If you, just once a week for three weeks, give up a cup of coffee and donate the money thus saved, you would be able to donate $10.00 (tax deductible) per month. Their project is titled WILD500. Because they need 500 people to partake to keep their work alive, which at the moment is mainly funded by the occasional donations and their credit card. And frankly, they deserve better.



This is the info you need to donate to WILD500. Please do it. Contact your bank and direct debit $10.00 per month from your account into the direct deposit at the Bendigo bank. BSB 633-000, Account 148 1 19613, and you can be assured that you are saving precious wild life without you having to lift a finger.



I have signed up to this, I hope you will too.



Petrus

art@petrusspronk.com

Thursday, 3 March 2016

YouDon'tHaveToMakeArtToLiveAsAnArtist

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"You don't have to make art to live as an Artist"



“Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing”

Helen Keller



It is commonly understood that most students who take art as a subject at school will not become artists. However, I feel that it is also understood that those who attend art classes will have their lives greatly enriched by an understanding of art and by the way they have learned to look and see. This is a great way to experience one’s life since it provides us with a visual appreciation of that which is freely available all around us. Plus it could provide us with an incredible tool for use in dealing with daily problems, creativity.



I remember entering the art room for the first time and experiencing a wonderful feeling of being in a comfortable, yet intense, space. It felt like my space. A space where I could be at home.



I realised that here in this room I could be like a child, (in the context of seeing the world as if for the first time.) no matter how old I was. Play and engage freely with materials to find out what they could do and thus assist me to discover and shape my world.



It was here also that I realised a very important lesson. That learning does not only happen in one’s head. All my learning, as an artist, has initially come from the engagement with the world through my hands. And through my hands my head became involved. Most of my learning has not come about from sitting in a desk, working with my mind/brain only. It has come about from doing. The rather narrow approach of desk learning does, for many students, at times more harm then good.



The art room is, or can be, a place of awakening to another self. A place of wonder and magic. A place where we can develop a sense of love for beauty, a place where we learn to enjoy the world from a visual point of view. A place where we are able to engage with, and possibly practice, the visual poetry of life. A place where we can play, and it is through play that much learning happens. Why do you think babies play all the time? It is the gateway to learning through discovery. Give a child a cardboard box and he or she will be away in play-land, in make believe-land, for ages. Discovering. Learning.



It was here, at the start of life’s journey, in the art room, that I realised that most choices, but career choices especially, were based on one of two ways of thinking. We can either choose for our heart (the love of, or passion for, a certain activity) or for our purse (how much money we will make from our chosen work). If we choose for our heart, we may, may, find happiness. If, additionally, we learn to trust the process we will always be able to take care of ourselves (I have a strong believe that that which has put us here, will also provide.) When, on the other hand, we choose for our purse we can be sure that we will be paying forever, in one way or another.



To get your hands into clay, to move paint around, to take that fantastic photo, to shape the earth, is all working toward the understanding of how to engage the creative spirit in your life.



The creative spirit, the single biggest asset we have.



“I heard a great story recently of a little girl who was in a drawing lesson. She was 6 years old and sitting in the back drawing. She hardly ever paid attention, but in this drawing lesson she did. The teacher was fascinated And went over to the little girl and she asked her what she was drawing and the little girl said: ‘I am drawing a picture of god’. And the teacher said, but nobody knows what god looks like. And the little girl said: ‘they will in a minute.” Sir Ken Robinson



Learning. Meaning to engage the creative spirit.



Take charge.





Petrus



Ceramicist, sculptor and writer

art@petrusspronk.com