Thursday 21 August was the anniversary of the birth of Aubrey Beardsley in 1873.
Inspired by Aubrey’s sketches and the work of Margaret MacDonald Mackintosh (1864-1933), I doodled the above concept of outfit for my alter ego, Airhead to wear to a Winter opera.
Airhead would require a box to themselves, to accommodate the voluminous outfit. Bejewelled in green, swathed in a pink chiffon candy stripe gown, and overlaid by a purple candy stripe velvet cloak.
Wishing you great health and happiness in 2025!
I am consciously stating the obvious when I write, spending quality time with family is limited when you live on opposite sides of the planet.
When we moved to Australia in 1998, my niece was a child. We are getting to know her and partner as adults whilst they take working holiday breaks from Spain here. Initially in 2018/2019 and again this year. We just spent a joy filled time swapping stories and creating happy memories with them over Christmas.
Whilst reviewing my sketchbook, my niece and partner were drawn to a rendering of a Pink Airhead from March 2024. They remarked on the way the character had developed over time.
Today’s whimsical Airhead represents both outward airy lightness through the pink rocks/stones and inner darkness contained in the black outlines.
‘Pink rock’ is a play on words reflecting a lack of self confidence to display goth/punk/emo individuality. I believed, to be accepted, I had to hide my true self and conform to societal norms. I wonder where this belief began.
As a shy young teen distracted by fantasy, horror, sci-fi, and daydreaming, I expressed myself through coloured handwriting. Setting aside traditional black and dark blue, I favoured apple green and turquoise inks in my fountain pens. Both of them intermittently leaked over my fingers and exercise books. Also, I had a hot pink felt tip pen reserved for doodling, sketching, and creating organic shapes filled with circles/bubbles.
Going further back, in the first class of primary school 1968-1969, taught by Mrs J. Booth, I have three distinct memories: winning a prize for hand painting/printing; enjoying singing along to “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)” accompanied by guitar; and exposing myself in the communal handwashing area of the unisex toilets.
I have no recollection of the reason why, having removed all of my garments, I minced out, hands in the air from the cubicle like a bawdy butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. Nor do I remember any repercussion of my action.
Up until that point, I believe I was as carefree as any other five year old. I dressed my teddies, floated around like a bird, and coloured in.
Above is my report from the end of the first class of primary school. 3 (satisfactory) for conduct stands out from the 4 (good) grades. I suspect this was due to memory number three above.
In my mind during the week leading up to this week’s mixed media painting, I thought dark green flowing into yellow. When it came to mixing the colours yesterday, I loved the green so much, I felt pink was needed.
I started the painting in portrait to encourage the colours to flow and mingle.
Last week’s stamped rings were achieved by applying watercolour to the rim of a drinking glass with a brush. This week I dipped the edge of a deeper rimmed glass into paint in a saucer, resulting in more strongly defined circles.
My husband commented the colours looked subdued. I explained they were step one.
With the picture turned around to landscape, I added green, pink, red, and black bubbles. This draws out the creative process and extends my enjoyment.
As it was a warm sunny Autumn day, I took a break yesterday so that we could spend a couple of hours in the spa.
Coming back to the painting this morning, there was very little to add.
I am pretty certain I read about crepe myrtle in Anne Rice novels, set in New Orleans, Louisiana. The first time I saw crepe myrtle trees in red, pink, purple, lilac, and white was when we moved from New South Wales to Queensland in 2018. Since then I have been fascinated by the council planted trees along the streets of Morningside.
I was heartened to see our next door neighbour has a hot pink one in the corner of their garden. It proudly displays its dark green deciduous foliage and cerise blooms above the dividing slatted timber fence.
With my watercolour painting, I am attempting to find my groove. I appear to be in an ovoid phase. Given I am at the start of a journey, an egg shape is perhaps apt.
The picture at the top of the post has seven elements signifying research analysis and deeper understanding. I cannot see the point for myself to paint reality as I can take a photograph. I wanted to paint a representation of next door’s myrtle tree. Working on the basis of the approximate proportional amounts of each of the colours, I light touch painted three ovals in pink, three tear drops in dark green and a surrounding oval merging the three colours.
The next step is to try a painting including the pale blue of the sky.
For a time this year, I thought, what is the point of drawing and painting when a moment can be captured in a photograph?
More recently, I decided I wanted to create, to paint but what? What is it that brings me joy? Typing this stream of thoughts, of words, I believed would help.
My ego demanded without ego. Whatever that meant.
What to include? A grand plan to capture heart, body, and soul.
Pencil sketches of a partly used up tube of watercolour paint were completed. An analogy of a point in my life. This subject did not progress even though I could see it completed in my mind’s eye.
During a mindless scrolling session in Pinterest, a portrait of a pink flamingo caught my eye. That might be it!
The first hurdle was to rouse myself to search out supplies. Packed away for four years since moving house.
Weekends passed.
My husband took control; during your birthday week, on Friday 21st October you shall paint!
On the day before, car partially reversed from the garage, we rootled through cupboards, boxes, at last: watercolour pencils, bought awhile ago in Port Douglas and an aged watercolour paper scrap, this’ll do for a sketch.
The day slipped away so fast including, the making and eating of French onion soup and sipping of French Blanc de Blancs along the way. Time disappeared while sketching, colouring, waiting, and repeating.
Magically, a pink flamingo sketch emerged.
Golden Autumnal rays
Enhanced hues, pink and green
Nature upon the lily pond plays
Creating a Monet painting scene
Spherical pale pink buds, smaller than peas;
Row upon row, silently waiting, in lines.
Forming grape like bunches,
Until flowering time.
See how the size of this glorious pink crepe myrtle tree dwarfs the cars parked nearby. I couldn’t resist capturing the pretty pink flowers contrasted against the vibrant green leaves of the tree behind.
Chinese Garden of Friendship, Sydney.
Pink and yellow frangipani in Autumn
theINFP 