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Monday, July 2, 2012
|Into the Hartz 2012, 120x120cm|
|Mercurial Territory 1 56x76cm each, relief ink, oil, beeswax on paper mounted on gatorboard|
|Section 1 of Red Ochre Escarpment|
|Section 1 of Straited Plateaus|
|Towards Huon Island 2012, oil on paper, 120x120cm|
|Unveiling Hartz, 2012|
|Melancholy Territory 111|
|The Mountains Wai|
|The Crystal Lake|
|One Hundred Days Away|
|Sunset Over Mountains|
From QCP website:
In Souvenir, Liesl Pfeffer uses the tropes of travel photography to explore the concept of photographic truth. Souvenir consists of photo- media collages depicting imaginary foreign landscapes, including mountain ranges, fjords and lakes, inspired by and referencing the composition of vernacular travel photographs. What at first glance appears to be a mountain is actually made up of pieces of snapshots of the everyday; anything from fences to clouds. There is something false and visually jarring in these images; the artists uses this disjunct to explore questions of truth in photography.
|Big Bull Wauchope, 2004|
|Diseased Trees, Lynne Park, Rose Bay 200g, 60x70cm|
|Jetty, Second Valley 2006|
|Man Fishing Autumn Scene, 2009, 60x60cm|
|Man with two dogs, 2009, 21x25cm|
|Snail coming down, 2004|
|South Coast Picture, 2002|
|Sydney, Autumn phase, 2008, 150x180cm|
|The Tasmanian Home of Bob Brown, Leader of the Greens 2011|
|Two trees, 2000|
|Big Apple, Batlow NSW|
|Big Pineapple, Nambour, Queensland|
|Gotta Love the Mo|
|House in Paddock, Upper Hunter 2010|
|Two Fruit Trees, 2000|
Thursday, May 24, 2012
June 19, 1937
A strange thing happened to me today. I saw a big thundercloud move down over Half Dome, and it was so big and clear and brilliant that it made me see many things that were drifting around inside of me; things that related to those who are loved and those who are real friends.
For the first time I know what love is; what friends are; and what art should be.
Love is a seeking for a way of life; the way that cannot be followed alone; the resonance of all spiritual and physical things. Children are not only of flesh and blood — children may be ideas, thoughts, emotions. The person of the one who is loved is a form composed of a myriad mirrors reflecting and illuminating the powers and thoughts and the emotions that are within you, and flashing another kind of light from within. No words or deeds may encompass it.
Friendship is another form of love — more passive perhaps, but full of the transmitting and acceptance of things like thunderclouds and grass and the clean granite of reality.
Art is both love and friendship, and understanding; the desire to give. It is not charity, which is the giving of Things, it is more than kindness which is the giving of self. It is both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit. It is the recreation on another plane of the realities of the world; the tragic and wonderful realities of earth and men, and of all the inter-relations of these.
I wish the thundercloud had moved up over Tahoe and let loose on you; I could wish you nothing finer.