Saturday, July 30, 2016


Yarntopia was created by the Warwick Art Gallery yarnbombing team as a cosy oasis for 2016 Jumpers and Jazz in July festival goers to enjoy.
The combined effort of around 120 people, Yarntopia is made up of over 1300 crocheted and knitted squares, more than 300 diamonds, hundreds of metres of vines and fabulous yarn art pieces from our talented team members.
I had so much fun designing and coordinating this project, and had the most wonderful team to work with. Although we receive contributions from a large number of people, the group who do all the sewing together of those hundreds and thousands of pieces, then climb ladders and sit on cold concrete to install everything is quite small. They have worked so hard to bring this to fruition, and I feel so lucky to have their support and friendship. Thank you so much to everyone involved!!

We are still in the middle of the festival and time is short, so I will be back to add more information and acknowledgements to these photos when things quieten down. In the meantime, enjoy our Yarntopia!

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

time and light

Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.        

As Winter approaches and the days get shorter that uncomfortable feeling of never having enough time can infiltrate my thinking if I'm not careful.  I find myself trying to make up for it by attempting to work on too many things at once.  I end up feeling scattered and overwhelmed and struggle to actually finish anything. 

Vladimir Nabokov had a wonderful concept he referred to as unreal estate - an inheritance from his mother of an appreciation for the beauty of intangible property.

'Vot zapomni [now remember],' she would say in conspiratorial tones as she drew my attention to this or that loved thing in Vyra - a lark ascending the curds-and-whey sky of a dull spring day, heat lightning taking pictures of a distant line of trees in the night, the palette of maple leaves on brown sand, a small bird's cuneate footprints on new snow.

Vladimir Nabokov,  Speak, Memory

When I think about the unreal estate I have inherited, I remember all the unscheduled time I enjoyed as a child - playing in the backyard, swimming, reading, drawing, cloud-gazing, making wishes on dandelions and sitting in the grass looking for four leaf clovers.  As an adult, when I allow myself to "waste" a little bit of my own time, suddenly it feels like it's not such a scarce commodity.  I'm reminded of the days of my childhood that somehow always seemed longer.

Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

William Wordsworth, To a Butterfly

So this morning I rearranged my priorities; putting time and sunlight at the top of my to-do list, and enjoyed the ephemeral beauty of the Autumn leaves in our garden.  The result was a little bit of Andy Goldsworthy inspired art.  I cheated a bit by utilising the holes in an old garden chair to position the leaves, but it still wasn't long before the breeze took them away.


The Word 
Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli," you find
that you have pencilled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,

but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

"The Word" by Tony Hoagland, from Sweet Ruin. © University of Wisconsin Press, 1992.

Monday, May 04, 2015

It scattered the night

It scattered the night is a companion piece to Still I Rise, and has been on my desk for a month or maybe more.  I've been collecting ideas and bits of imagery about sunrises, sparkling skies and warm light, and this is what came out of them.  Rather than try to gather my scattered thoughts today, I thought I would show its progress from start to finish, along with the quotes I've collected in my journal while working on it.


The sun - the bright sun, that brings back, not light alone, but new life, and hope, and freshness to man - burst upon the crowded city in clear and radiant glory. Through costly-coloured glass and paper-mended window, through cathedral dome and rotten crevice, it shed its equal ray.
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

Daylight, full of small dancing particles
and the one great turning, our souls
are dancing with you, without feet, they dance.
Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
John Lennon

All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.
Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

I love the colour legends in old atlases, and often use them for inspiration in my paintings.

It is not down on any map; true places never are.
Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

It scattered the night, Loretta Grayson 2015
Gouache on cotton rag paper, 23cm x 28cm

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

Monday, March 30, 2015

liner notes

To add to the inspiration I find in poetry, literature and song lyrics, I've recently been rediscovering liner notes - a treasure trove of beautiful writing I had almost forgotten about.  Most of the music I buy these days is digital, and it occurred to me that I was missing very much the experience of listening to a new album while reading the thoughts of the songwriter from the CD booklet or album sleeve.

Fortunately, these thoughts can be often found online.  Glenn Richards of Augie March wrote eloquent notes to accompany the poetic, melodramatic lyrics of his latest album. I enjoyed reading his thoughts on finding your own, hard to express feelings echoed in another's writing:

"It shouldn’t have surprised me, my favourite writers become my favourite because in a seemingly tossed off sentence they will communicate in simple, elegant terms one or another of the big "feelings" I’ve had hovering over me in my waking hours and mocking my honey-slow reasoning. Incapable as I so often am or afraid even to try to reach up and grasp in the aether for a solid - it’s not just that it requires an intellectual flex I can’t make but there’s that songwriterly fear that if you tangle too directly with the nebulous and look to strip it back to what is almost always just a common idea you also strip it of its mystical song birthing power."

I  discovered the music and writing of Joe Henry via a very interesting On Being conversation.  He has some wonderful music, but I've been appreciating his liner notes even more. Sometimes I feel self-conscious about the recurring themes in my work, and he helped me realise that it was ok to continue to use my own faithful imagery; to have a thread that connects individual pieces, just as a great album may be "...singularly of a piece: ranging, though all cut from a single bolt of coarse cloth."
(Joe Henry, from his Invisible Hour liner notes

Which leads me to this painting.  It could have been included in my last blog post, as it is most certainly cut from the same cloth.  That persistent breeze is passing through again.  I posted it, nearly finished, on my Facebook page recently, and asked for help to come up with a name.  Its companion piece had the unwieldy title of I have set sail on a fast mountain, from a favourite W.S. Merwin poem, but naming this one I have set sail on a fast mountain II just seemed silly. 

My dear friend Ngaire suggested Still I Rise, and as soon as I read the Maya Angelou poem she shared, I realised it was the perfect title.  I spend time living in each small landscape as I am painting it, and this one had felt like a joyous place... a celebration of the human spirit. 
May we all keep rising, just like the moons and the suns.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Still I Rise, gouache on cotton rag paper, 73cm x 53cm framed

Still I Rise will be hanging in the Southern Downs Regional Artists Exhibition at Warwick Art Gallery, from 2 April - 3 May, 2015.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

like something is brewing


There seems to be a lot of  weather in my paintings again lately.  It's not uncommon for a weather system to move in while I'm working, bringing clouds and wind and rain, and completely changing my original plans for the artwork.  I wonder what changes are in store for me when it passes through?

Sweet Unrest II, gouache on cotton rag paper

December, gouache on cotton rag paper

Festival II, gouache on cotton rag paper


Oh My Stars, gouache on cotton rag paper

As usual I've been finding inspiration in other people's beautiful words, and I have gathered quite a collection of weather quotes and poems in my art journal.  Every book I have enjoyed lately has provided a new one... here are a few of my favourites at the moment.

I could tell the season was changing because in daylight the air moved, moved ceaselessly, not what you would call a wind, but restlessness and unease which were delicious to the bones and skin.

Helen Garner, Monkey Grip 

Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner - what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.

Rainer Maria Rilke
This memory moved like a weather system through my body.
Karen Joy Fowler, We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves

It was dark outside, and spring chill was in the evening air. He breathed deeply and felt his body tingle in the coolness. Beyond the jagged outline of the apartment houses the town lights glowed upon a thin mist that hung in the air. At the corner a street light pushed feebly against the darkness that closed around it; from the darkness beyond it the sound of laughter broke abruptly into silence, lingered and died. The smell of smoke from trash burning in back yards was held by the mist; and as he walked slowly through the evening, breathing the fragrance and tasting upon his tongue the sharp night-time air, it seemed to him that the moment he walked in was enough and the might not need a great deal more.

John Williams, Stoner

Friday, February 06, 2015

Little Trees Growing

My little "test pattern" trees have been digitally remastered and re-released!

Way back when I first created these paintings (click here for the original blog post), I had a small edition of prints made.  These prints have all but sold out, so it was time this week to create a new edition of 8x8 inch prints.  I adjusted the colours to be as true to the originals as possible, and I'm so happy with them - they're very vibrant and pretty, and each print has handpainted gold touches that sparkle in the light.

Friday, January 23, 2015


I have been seeing lovely examples of crochet dreamcatchers everywhere lately, so I decided to try making one as a gift for a friend.  It was fun and quite easy to make, so I thought I would share it here.  I used free patterns found online (I have included links within the text), and items from my craft cupboard.

I found a crochet pattern for a Snowflake ornament to use for the centrepiece of the dreamcatcher.

I crocheted Snowflake B, using Tahki Yarns Cotton Classic, which is an 8 ply (DK) yarn, and a 3mm hook, so my snowflake turned out quite a lot larger than the ones in the pattern.  I ended up attaching it to the inside ring of a 12 inch embroidery hoop.

I found an easy to follow free feather pattern on Ravelry.  This creator of the pattern was inspired by these lovely feather pendants.  Using the same yarn and hook, I followed the pattern for the larger feather, although as I was using quite a firm yarn my feather developed some interesting curves.  I adapted the pattern a little to create two smaller feathers (the feather on the left wouldn't behave for the photo, so you'll have to imagine that it looks similar to the one on the right!).

Other additions were some hand-dyed silk ribbons I had in my craft cupboard, and some felt balls from Colour Streams.

Many other items could be used to decorate these dreamcatchers... vintage buttons, interesting fibres, ric rac, beads... it's only limited by your imagination.