Landscapes and buildings.

These are my landscapes, appearing infrequently but insistently; I keep coming back to landscapes. The following are some I've hung onto through many moves and lots of years, in roughly chronological order.

Strawberry Hills. Oil on canvas.

Strawberry Hills. Oil on canvas.

Surry Hills. Acrylic on canvas.

Surry Hills. Acrylic on canvas.

The North Shore. Oil & metal leaf on canvas.

The North Shore. Oil & metal leaf on canvas.

 Drama in a humid atmosphere. 

"The landscape becomes a tale full of emotions and its perception is a reflection of our living." *

Roseneath. Shellac & pastels on metal leaf.

Roseneath. Shellac & pastels on metal leaf.

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Singapore. Oil on aluminium.

Singapore. Oil on aluminium.

Before it can ever be a repose for the senses, landscape is the work of the mind. It’s scenery is built up as much from strata of memory as from layers of rock.
— Simon Schama, discussing "Landscape & Memory" in the NY Times.
Walkerville in autumn. Shellac, pastels & metal leaf.

Walkerville in autumn. Shellac, pastels & metal leaf.

My decaying tropical Utopias. Landscapes shot through with holes and memories. Nostalgia, the worst kind of memory.

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West Java

West Java

I think the most intensely felt landscapes are the ones we walk through as a child.**
— Mr Schama.
Ela Beach. Acrylic on canvas.

Ela Beach. Acrylic on canvas.

I do feel a strong pull to landscape, but to me it's never felt enough to stop at that. To me, its an extravagance of mood, and then there come my buildings. Although, its more like one building, one stylised facade that represents a structure, like a barrier or a mask. 

That hazy humidity in the sky and the divide, disparity, between memory and experience.

That hazy humidity in the sky and the divide, disparity, between memory and experience.

Like a totemic thing, my buildings provide a point of reference around which to frame and contain the layers of disparate, unique parts and from which to make different explorations of narrative and composition.

Buildings, as a containment.

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Buildings, like memories, can look different, it depends on where one stands; it depends on one's perspective. Buildings are depositories, like a mind full of memories and can be moved around & take on new characteristics, depending on circumstance.

Sarawak.

Sarawak.

My memories are mine, and I can put them where I want them. Half truths and fictions, borrowed histories; planning the past.

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Working sketches.

Working sketches.

Built environments, either covering and displaying inner intentions. There is a potential for malevolence in Arcadia, and a desperate need for security against it.

Which brings me to patterns, which is a chapter for next time.

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