STEPPING SIDEWAYS

There are artists who cannot go one day without making images. I am not one of them - and I have decided to celebrate this, rather than feel guilty about it. I am unashamedly eclectic by nature. There are times when I am deliciously, crazily driven to make images. At other times, this is the last thing on my mind. Instead, I'm possessed by a need to write, or read, to research, or simply to think about life and recalibrate my feelings about a whole range of things. I am not just my art. I am a human being of many parts - and every day I am alive changes me, educates me. Don't you just love that about life?! I will return to my art when I am ready...and there are ideas "cooking" as we speak! But they need a little time - and so do I. Got to go now... Three big, furry mutts are waiting for their walk along the beach. And so am I. p.s. Isn't freedom wonderful?!

ARTIST HOLIDAY IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA

I feel like I'm boasting, but I have to say, having the freedom to take a holiday like the one I just took is just a part of being an artist. Not only that, but having a creative mindset - and there are so many creative women out there who have this mindset - it was like I had enjoyed a double holiday. One holiday was the simple touristy and get-away-from-it-all bliss, but at the same time I was having another, exclusive artist holiday as my mind and aesthetic sense hummed along, gathering and storing ideas for future artwork.

We travelled far north up to Exmouth, and also visited Coral Bay and Monkey Mia. I mentioned the extraordinary marine life we saw in my previous post. We snorkelled with whale sharks, manta rays - both species giants of the sea and gentle and stunning to share the sea with; also a zillion multi-coloured fish, including the odd reef shark and tiger shark (the latter we didn't know about until we were safely back in the boat). From the various boats we travelled on, we saw 2 pods of humpback whales- up close and beautiful! - plus turtles, a dugong (fantastic!) - and many dolphins.

The outback scenery was magical - quite different from where I live south of Perth. The soil was a rich, iron red, and the mesa by Exmouth was so wide and softly coloured in the evening that I felt transported back to New Mexico, where I had seen similar sights. We saw literally dozens of emus, kangaroos, euros (wallabies) and wedge tailed eagles on the side of the road as we travelled, including a huge, strange bird called a bustard (correct spelling!)

Taking a trip like this reinforces the power and majesty of nature, the wonder of life in all its colourful manifestations - like those awesome tropical fish! - and the need to tear ourselves away from our routine and especially, the television and the computer, to explore and celebrate this beautiful planet.

Okay - I'm waxing lyrical. But it was a very special holiday.

Go explore Western Australia as soon as you can. It really revitalises the spirit!

I hope you enjoy the daggy pic of me by the anthhill - one of hundreds of anthills you will see on this journey!

Happy travels!

Margot

ARTIST SWIMS WITH SHARKS!

Yep! I did it. Swam with sharks...the biggest living fish in the ocean, in fact - whale sharks - in one of the most gorgeous, sea exploration areas of Western Australia: Exmouth. Over two days my partner and I drove to Exmouth from Perth, armed with a tent, snorkels and heaps of enthusiasm! We stopped at Monkey Mia on the way and joined in a dolphin feeding. Monkey Mia's calm, wide bay is one of the most serene places I've seen - a symphony of blue-greens, greys and silver...haunting, especially in the early morning light, when we fed the dolphins. But the whale sharks were our true goal and off we went the next morning, northward bound.

In Exmouth, after setting up our little tent, we sailed out with Captain Bill of Kings Expeditions on a magnificent boat, the Magellan. We were lucky enough to sight a whale shark early on - and plunged into the ocean with about 18 other people of every age to snorkel with it, in two very respectful groups. The wellbeing of the marine life is always a prime consideration on these eco tours, and we were instructed to stay 3 metres away from the shark and behind its gills.

Seeing the whale shark loom into sight just feet away, was an experience unlike any other! I felt no fear - just awe and wonder. Humility and a kind of bliss at actually being there in that place at that time. What a privilege!

The first shark was about 4 metres (12 feet) wide, and we were thrilled when the day proceeded to bring us four other sharks, the largest being over 8 metres. We swam twice with the largest, which was particularly friendly and slow swimming. Wow! They were massive creatures that were far more beautiful than I'd anticipated - stunning rows of white spots on a blue background. One of the sharks was a fast mover, but most were amazingly slow moving, and allowed us to snorkel by their side for a good five or ten minutes. Time stood still for me during these swims. It was awe inspiring to be so close to the sharks' extraordinary beauty, and know that these gentle creatures would do no harm. I would do this again in a heartbeat! (And let us do all we can to see there are still whalesharks around for many, many years to come. There are already so few left. They are non-aggressive giants, and easy prey for unenlightened, greedy humans - ugh!)

During the excursion we stopped twice to snorkel outside of Exmouth's reef, taking in the extraordinary coral formations and marine life. Apparently a 2.5 metre tiger shark was cruising peacefully nearby during one of these stops, which the organisers told us about only once we were safely on board, in order to avoid a panic. (Good call.)

We encountered two pods of humpback whales, and stayed very close to one pod, until one of the whales dived, flipping his magnificent tail.

The water in Exmouth was even warmer beyond the reef than in-shore -some five degrees warmer - due to a warm current that travels from the north. There was no need for wetsuits.

Coral Bay was our next port of call, where I was again moved almost to tears as I snorkelled with several 3 metre (9 foot) manta rays - enormous, graceful rays without barbs, that were happy to perform their underwater ballet for the small group of snorkellers next to them. I have never seen such grace! It was a magnificent, humbling experience to watch their dance. I know I am overusing the word 'magnificent', but such was the experience.

The coral "gardens" of Coral Bay were extraordinary, and even though the water was a little churned, snorkelling was still fantastic. We saw turtles, dolphins and many smaller rays. I also saw a large reef shark, which set my pulse racing.

One of the revelations of this holiday was seeing how closely many of the wildly coloured fish we snorkelled with resembled Japanese kimono designs. One fish I saw (enormous, I might add), had an all over design of black and yellow polka dots, and a big set of mauvish lips. It was my favourite fish, by far! On shore I researched those fish I'd seen that looked like something straight out of a Japanese design book, and sure enough, those very fish were also common to Japanese waters. So - a design revelation!

I am by nature a minimalist artist and prefer subtle colours, but I could be persuaded to experiment with new colour combinations after my snorkelling experiences on the W.A. coast. I totally recommend it to artists, designers and non-artists alike. It is a truly awe-inspiring experience!

Happy painting! And do swim with the sharks! Here is the link to the great people at Kings: http://www.kingsningalooreeftours.com.au

Margot.

NOTHING BEATS ART AS A LIFESTYLE!

Waiting yesterday to get the results of an MRI was one of the scariest moments of my life. It occurred to me I might not have much of a life left, or at the very least, one of quality. Whatever the outcome, at least, I was NOT going to be one of those tragic people who looked back with regret and a litany of "what ifs" . At the age of 39, I'd (thank God!) found the courage to abandon my advertising career and pursue my burning dream of becoming an artist.

In my early art study days, it was clear that I was raw, green and pretty naive, but years of working to deadlines had taught me that focus and hard work were a sure way to move forward - and the rest would take care of itself. I was now working for a deeply personal ideal: a career in art and with it, a life of independence.

From the moment I stepped away from the slick, glossy world of advertising and immersed myself in this new world of colour, freedom, line and feeling, I felt myself come alive! Better still, the trajectory my new career was to take was one I could never have imagined, taking in college, jewellery design, exotic film sets, painting studies in France, and overseas residencies. I relished every moment of my extraordinarily new life and freedom - and I shudder to think how my life would have continued had I stayed in my high-pressure job and let my dreams slip by.

At times I have lamented the extreme lack of money...and the loneliness of the artist's way can also be challenging, but the feeling of accomplishment and wonder my art lifestyle has brought me far outweighs those setbacks.

My MRI results? All good news - and the promise of wellness in a short time.

Oops! 1.30 am and time to get some beauty sleep. Tomorrow I leave for Exmouth (W.A.) to swim with the whale sharks! Life just gets better!

Margot

A CREATIVE CAREER WITH A TWIST

Creative careers come in many guises. They definitely need not be confined to the fine arts, theatre, or any other of the traditionally accepted 'creative' careers. Far from it! A refreshing example of that came out of an experience I had today.

It was the 5 year anniversary of the death of my partner's beautiful son, Ben. I'd only met Ben twice, but through the many descriptions given by his father, I knew that Ben had been a gifted musician, a lover of life, highly sensitive to nature, a sea / dolphin / sand / sky person, a warmly loved and admired friend, brother, son and human being.

I wanted to find some simple flowers to commemorate this poignant anniversary, but I didn't want dull, traditional fare. I wanted something simple, evocative of joy, creativity, of life ever after.

Stopping at the tiny florist's in the local mall, I glanced at the flowers on show. Lilies. Orchids. Roses. More lilies. Nothing youthful. Nothing that 'felt' right. Suddenly I spotted some softly rounded, warm toned reddish-orange berries lying ripely on the counter. The berries were bursting with life and colour. They were exactly right.

As it happened, these berries were not strictly for sale, but the young girl serving was flexible and responsive to my needs. She decided to break up the bunch to fulfil my wishes. After selecting three berry-laden stems, I realised I needed just a little something else to compliment them. But what?

The florist thought for a moment, then selected two dramatic, dark, maroon-coloured leaves. She showed me how she could double one leaf over, and point the other upwards asymmetrically with flare. The result was striking...but somehow funerary...sad. Even depressing. Amazing how such a strong mood could be conjured up from the twist of two simple leaves!

Thinking I probably sounded like an idiot, I explained that the flowers now appeared sad, even tragic. I wanted some greenery that was gentler, softer, giving the effect of a celebration of a life, rather than loss.

The florist looked at me thoughtfully.

She disappeared, then reappeared some minutes later with a few stems of an unusual, velvety plant. Taking the bunched berries, she gently framed them with a few of the silvery sprigs. The transformation was extraordinary! Suddenly the berries sprang to life in a way that spoke of joy, warmth, love. The sensitive young florist had completely "got" the mood I was trying to express.

As she wrapped the flowers, I asked her about her work. "I've always been creative," she said. "At school, I did two days' work experience with a florist, and discovered I loved it. Now I'm studying floristry at TAFE college. I'm in my second year of a 3 year course. "

Did she enjoy it, though?

"I love it!" she exclaimed. " I knew I could never work in an office. I wanted to do something creative with my life, but I didn't want to go the traditional route. Now I can totally express myself...and make a living with what I do."

Amen to that!

Here's to a creative you!

Margot Wiburd

p.s. The following quote is a favourite of mine:

What would become of our souls
if they lacked the bread
of earthly reality to nourish them,
the wine of created beauty
to intoxicate them,
the discipline of human struggle
to make them strong?
- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

CONTEMPORARY JEWELLERY THAT GROWS ON YOU

I hope any budding jewellery designers were inspired by my last post.

Have a look at this terrific jewellery concept.

Put on your thinking caps and...

create like the wind!

Margot Wiburd

Link to contemporary jewellery by Icelandic creative Hafsteinn Juliusson
"The Growing Jewelry Collection":

http://hafsteinnjuliusson.com/index.php?/projects/growing-jewelr

THE NUTS AND BOLTS OF JEWELLERY DESIGN: MY FIRST CREATIVE CAREER IN THE ARTS!

With a year of foundation art studies under my belt, a healthy art folio and acceptance into both painting courses and the best jewellery design course around at the time - RMIT's Bachelor of Fine Art in Gold and Silversmithing - I was ready to launch into full time study for my first, real, creative career in the arts!

I was 34 years old, with a career as an advertising copywriter and executive behind me, as well as several years working in television as a production assistant. I had loved these careers very much, but eventually had to admit that I'd outgrown them.

Now I wanted to 'go inside' - to find out whether I actually had what it took to be that super creative person I very much hoped I was. I was beyond excited - and quietly terrified! There was always a chance I'd fall flat on my face. Now I had to walk the talk.

Everyone had warned me, when I left my prestigious advertising job at Saatchi and Saatchi Compton in Madrid, that I would NEVER survive the giddying pay drop from executive to student. Well, guess what? The more money I'd earned in advertising, the more I'd spent on designer-this and designer-that, on ski trips and trips to Paris and anything else that appealed to me at the time, so I had never really been ahead financially, even with my large salary. I was always at the limit of my smoking credit cards.

So dropping back to a student allowance didn't hurt so badly at all. Also, my mind was now focussed on learning rather than acquiring. Clothing was a no brainer: anything old would do, because I was going to get down and dirty with my hands-on creative career. As far as paying the rent, my student allowance covered the costs of living in a shared house, and I took on a part time job selling flowers at an all night florist's to accommodate any extra costs. (This was a fun job, as all kinds of people bought flowers in the middle of the night. I did, however, suffer terrible jet lag after the night shifts).

Student fees were deferred until after I had graduated and was earning enough money to pay them back. I was set to go!

My particular course accepted just 12 students a year - making us chosen ones feel quite exclusive. By contrast, the painting course accepted 50 students a year, at the time.

I was way older than most of my colleagues, most of whom were straight out of secondary school. I'm here to tell you that it didn't make any difference. What mattered was a shared passion for what we were learning, a good sense of humour, and a willingness to share our thoughts, our troubles, our disasters (there were many!) and our breakthroughs.

The first year was magnificent! I guess we were indulged by our teachers, being the new creative team that might eventually bring glory to that institution. We received praise for our efforts and daily encouragement to be daring and think out of the box, while methodically learning and mastering the basic skills required for gold and silversmithing.

Our first excursion to the specialty jewellery tool supply shops and the metal sellers was beyond exciting. It was a whole new world of wonderful tools and gadgets and textured materials and gauges! We had to purchase a whole range of tools - fabulous files, both heavy duty and exquisite "needle files", measuring devices, a fine jeweller's saw and blades of varying thicknesses, pliers of every shape and size, soldering materials, sanding paper, and a host of other bizarre, new things. I still remember the buzz of buying a shiny new toolbox at the city hardware and carefully placing my cherished tools into each hallowed compartment. The tools cost over $500 new, and I was fortunate that my mum pitched in to help, despite her misgivings about my chosen career. Mum couldn't understand why I had thrown away a good, high paying job, but was happy to have me back in Australia after my 9 year stint in Europe.

That first year I shone! I loved every second of the course! I loved the smell of the sulphuric acid which we used for dunking our silver and copper pieces in after soldering, thus removing the black oxidisation. I loved the sound of hammering on metal; I loved the heat and roar of the bunsen burners. I loved the furious sound of filing - something we became adept at very quickly.

Each of us was assigned our own work area with a peg on which to file, cut and support our pieces as we worked, a bunsen burner for soldering, and room for our books and files.

We were shown slides of the work of contemporary designers from around the world. We were sent to amazing exhibitions and retrospectives by top jewellery designers. Our own teachers - Carlier Makigowa, Robert Baines, Marian Hosking and Ray Stebbins - were themselves stars within the contemporary jewellery world. We participated in workshops by such luminaries as Susan Cohn, who worked wonders with anodised aluminium and titanium, and had recently been commissioned to make pieces for the famous Alessi design house.

We learned to solder, to rivet, to saw, to repousse, to shape and form, to draw metal down, and so many other techniques. Some of our classes didn't go so well...drawing and perspective was a challenge, the result of a teacher-class mismatch. This can happen in any teaching institution and is largely a matter of luck. You just have to do the best with what you're got and keep your eye on the big goals.

I was a clumsy student, and frequently would be stirred by the cry, "Margot, your hair's on fire again!" I had a tendency to forget about my hair in relation to the bunsen burner flame.

I've mentioned before that I believe mature age students, far from being disadvantaged, can achieve more than students who go straight from school to university, sometimes without really knowing much about the real world or what they want. Mature age students KNOW what they want. They go after it and they know that the clock is ticking and they have to suck up as much knowledge as they can. Their maturity means they often relate better to their teachers than the younger students - understand the asides and references to life experiences the younger kids just haven't had yet.

By the end of the first year, I was awarded top student of the course, and it had been a breeze! This was not to continue...

Second year was my reality check. It was a study year, I later found out, notorious for putting students to the test. No more Mr Nice Guy or Gal. The teachers pushed us endlessly, and criticised us when we got it wrong. Shoddy first year work no longer hacked it. We had to shape up or ship out. There were tears and dramas all the way through. This was certainly no longer creative kindergarten.

Living up to its reputation, second year was highly productive. We learned to make mokume gane, a Japanese technique involving the fusion in a kiln of 9 layers or so of silver and copper, with many variations. We learned to colour metals with chemicals, a fascinating process with its own quirks, so there were many surprises when we at last pulled our pieces out of the sawdust and saw the effects the chosen chemical mix had produced.

We learned sophisticated finishing techniques - polishing, burnishing, and even sandblasting to obtain an elegant matt finish. Like most things in life, each technique had its downside and upside, so decision-making was a key part of every process.

Research was a big part of our course, and we used the library for that. The internet was pretty much unheard of in Australia at the time. Mobile phones and email did not yet exist, so we used that old fashioned institution: the library.

How I loved the smell of the books, the hushed atmosphere, the dimmed lighting! How anybody could walk into a room overflowing with books of every shape, colour, subject and size, and not be awed and humbled by the wealth of knowledge presented to the eager mind, I do not know. The feel of a heavy, well-dog-eared book is something the internet cannot yet duplicate... Libraries are hallowed spaces, a contrast to the pressures and roar of the outside world.

We had a very stringent art history teacher, who made us memorise hundreds of art slides - the names of the artists and the dates. I never saw the point in this, but was too scared of our no-nonsense teacher to rebel. In the end, I became expert at identifying each period of art, and soon felt more confident for it. Somehow there was method in this madness. Years later I discovered that this austere, multi-talented teacher had a fabulous sense of humour...only it clearly wasn't wasted on 2nd year students.

I am forgetting, of course, the essays. These were the bane of most students' lives. Many of the students were by nature highly visual, and crafting together a well-researched, well-written essay was a horrifying task, seemingly beyond their capabilities. I was fortunate to have always adored and handled English with ease, having an innate love of words and poetry, so essays were not a challenge to me. This said, pride goes before a fall! In my third year, I managed to completely miss the point of an essay on post-modernism, something I am embarrassed about to this day, and I received a fittingly low result for my tragic efforts.

There were supplementary classes to be taken throughout the degree course that had nothing to do with jewellery design. I took painting as an elective, and while I loved the act of painting, I received virtually no tuition. Unless you were a mainstream painter, the lecturers didn't appear to take you seriously - at least while I was there. I had fun with my paintings, but completed most of them without guidance and simply submitted them for a bland mark at the end of each year. Some of the other elective classes were known to be good, in contrast. Printmaking students were turning out some fabulous work, and had learned many skills in tandem with jewellery making.

One of my additional classes involved giving a talk to a group of students, and I chose to discuss the metaphysical and supernatural events I had experienced over the years. Without going into too much detail here (this is a whole chapter unto itself!), at the end of my talk I opened up the class to questions and was astounded by the number of extra terrestrial sightings and out of body experiences that had occurred to people just like you and me. Believe me, there's some wild stuff out there. Absolutely fascinating!

While second year was a tough year, I created some of my finest pieces. By year's end, when we were finishing everything up ready for evaluation, I was feeling stressed but confident. In the week preceding evaluation I worked around the clock, missing sleep three nights in a row, trying to tidy drawing folios and finish pieces that were not quite ready, requiring more fine sanding or cleaning up of solder stains. There were student journals to write up and hand in. These were supposed to contain progressive drawings of our pieces, from conception to completion, but most people made the pieces first and filled in the drawings later, working backwards, in effect. This was certainly the case for me. I was notoriously untidy and disorganised, usually scribbling my ideas on any scrap of paper I could find, including old grocery receipts and the back of tickets. Needless to say, this gave me grief when it came to present my journal. It's something I might approach differently if I could do it all over again.

Life intervenes when you least expect it to. On the last school day before end-of-year presentation of our work for evaluation, I received an urgent call to go to the hospital. Leaving my pieces in disarray on my desk, I dashed out of the room and took a taxi to the hospital. My mother had almost died, an indirect consequence of the suffering she was enduring as a result of both Parkinson's Disease and a stroke that left her dizzy and nauseous most of the time. My darling mum had wanted to check out of the world, but had not quite managed it.

My own world ground to a halt. When faced with the possible loss of a loved one, things fall sharply into perspective. I held mum's hand as she lay in the hospital bed, fighting to gain consciousness. When she came to, a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm so ashamed," she said - and in that moment, broke my heart. My darling mother had suffered for so long, and who was I to judge her actions? The last thing she deserved was to feel shame. She deserved to feel love, to know how loved she was, and I wondered if I had not done enough to help her be happy, to keep her thoughts focussed on this world. And yet...had she not abandoned me by her actions? Did that meant she didn't love me enough?

These are questions I will never know the answers to, and I feel a painful mixture of guilt and abandonment when I relive that time. But the important thing is that mum pulled through and quickly received some fabulous repatriation care. She regained some of the strength that had dwindled with the Parkinson's, and the years immediately following seemed to bring her, once more, some quality of life. Life goes on, of course.

Although I never did get to make those last important finishes to my jewellery pieces, I graduated from second year and was about to become one of the elite: a third and final year student!

Third year was unlike any of the preceding years. Now, we were given the freedom and luxury of time to create a cohesive body of work, drawing on all the skills of the previous two years. We were helped to learn new skills that were necessary for our individual visions. We were treated with more respect, somehow, and that, in turn, gave us more self respect and spurred us on to greater things.

I remember how in my job as an advertising executive in Spain, my boss, a North American, seemed to see something special in me. Quickly, he made it known, both personally and publicly, that he treasured my contribution to the agency. His faith in me had a powerful effect! I blossomed, became more confident, and morphed into the excellent executive he thought I was. I gave 110 per cent and was proud of the work I was doing. This situation later repeated itself when I worked as a writer for a mining company. The more skilled they believed I was, the more skilled I became - a win-win situation!

If there is any way to help a person in life, it is to honour them with respect and confidence in their abilities. Always speak to their highest part of them. There's a good chance they'll step up to the mark and surprise even themselves...

In my third year I fell in love with an industrial metal called monel, now widely used in the jewellery world. I found its deep grey colouring provided a wonderful contrast when combined with gold, and I used it to create bowls, bracelets and rings. Some of this work was photographed in a well known jewellery design magazine, and I was pretty proud of that. I also worked in silver, and my pieces were minimalist and clunky. I later sold, traded or gave away these rings, and to this day regret I didn't keep them. They are my lost children!

Learning to give away your creative children is a real and necessary part of a creative career.

Third year brought with it a major end-of-year award, presented to me by the state's Minister for the Arts at a sophisticated end of year exhibition held in the foyer of a major Melbourne bank. For once, I'd left my hole-filled, stained t-shirts behind. I wore a black designer suit, with black tights and high heels, in my ears, a pair of Georgian mourning earrings made from gold and woven human hair. I had found these at an antique fair years before, and they continue to be a prized possession - although I've often been tempted to sell them when times were tough...

The only thing marring the night was a falling out with my on-again, off-again boyfriend. That night was definitely "off" - but I had so many good things happening that I refused to dwell on it.

Now I was an award winning Gold and Silversmithing Graduate! The world was my oyster. But what was I to do now, exactly? How was I to earn a living, with a student debt hanging over my head and no experience of my newly forged creative career in the real world?

What was to come, was not at all what I expected...

Create like the wind!

Margot Wiburd

p.s. Fast forward to the future: Visit my website at http://www.margotwiburd.com