THREE WOMEN acquired by the Art Gallery of Ballarat

In recent happy news, my painting Three Women has been acquired by the Art Gallery of Ballarat. 

The triptych will be part of the gallery’s upcoming exhibition, In the Company of Morris, presented in conjunction with the international exhibition, Pre-Raphaelites: Drawings and Watercolours from the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. 

In the Company of Morris comprises diverse works by historical and contemporary artists that reflect the enduring legacy of William Morris, all of them drawn from the gallery’s permanent collection. Among the artists are: Norman Lindsay, Deborah Klein, Elizabeth Pulie, William Strutt, Fiona Hiscock, Christian Waller, Napier Waller, Kate Rohde, Thomas Woolner, Bernhard Smith, Carole Wilson, Alice Muskett, Gwen Scott, Louiseann King, Stephen Bird, Janet Beckhouse and Emily Floyd. 

My painting pays homage to the work of William Morris’s younger daughter, May Morris, an artisan, jewellery, wallpaper and embroidery designer, editor, socialist and educator, who has only recently emerged from her father’s shadow. 

The exhibitions open on 20 May and run to 6 August. 

Pictured top: Deborah Klein, Three Women, 2021, (triptych), acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, (each panel). 
Photo credit: Tim Gresham.

Ladies in Lockdown 3: Droplet

 

…She left the web, she left the loom, 
She made three paces through the 
room, 
She saw the water-lily bloom, 
She saw the helmet and the plume, 
She look'd down to Camelot. 
Out flew the web and floated wide; 
The mirror crack'd from side to side; 
"The curse is come upon me," cried 
The Lady of Shalott…

- from The Lady of Shalott (1833, Alfred, Lord Tennyson) 

Pictured: Droplet, 2018, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, another lady in lockdown dying to break free. One of the first works made for BACKSTORIES at Stephen McLaughlan Gallery, current to September 5. 🔐 

Ladies in Lockdown 2: Pathfinder

…By the margin, willow veil'd,

Slide the heavy barges trail'd 

By slow horses; and unhail'd 

The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd

Skimming down to Camelot: 

But who hath seen her wave her 

hand? 

Or at the casement seen her stand? 

Or is she known in all the land, 

The Lady of Shalott?…

- from The Lady of Shalott (1833, Alfred, Lord Tennyson) 

Pictured: Pathfinder, 2018, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, part of my solo show, BACKSTORIES, temporarily under lock and key at Stephen McLaughlan Gallery on the eighth floor of the Nicholas Building, Melbourne. 🔐 

Ladies in Lockdown 1: The Other

…Four gray walls and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott…

- from The Lady of Shalott, (1833, Alfred, Lord Tennyson) 

Image: The Other, 2019, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, part of my solo show, BACKSTORIES, currently in lockdown at Stephen McLaughlan Gallery, Melbourne. 🔐 

Your Invitation to BACKSTORIES

Please find your very own invitation to:

DEBORAH KLEIN - Backstories

An exhibition of paintings and works on paper at Stephen McLaughlan Gallery, Melbourne.

If you’re free, join us for the Opening Event from 2-4 pm on Saturday, 24 July. Otherwise, I do hope you’ll call in during the exhibition’s run.

Backstories opens on 21 July and concludes on 7 August, 2021.

(Image on invitation: Vortex, 2019, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm. Photo credit: Tim Gresham).

The Final Varnish

In the art supply shop last Monday I felt slightly vindicated to learn I’m not the only one who turns to jelly when it comes to varnishing pictures, especially in the lead-up to a show. Fortunately Shane Jones, who clearly has nerves of steel, came to the rescue. But he didn’t do it alone. From the stage in our upstairs cinema room, Alice supervised the entire operation - that is, until the lure of the bubblewrap proved too great. 

 

Rückenfigur

Deborah Klein, current work in progress, a triptych as yet untitled.
Acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm (each panel).

I have to stay alone in order to fully contemplate and feel nature. The painter should paint not only what he has in front of him, but also what he sees inside himself.

- Caspar David Friedrich

Recently I discovered by sheer chance that the dominant motif in my work for well over two decades has a name. It’s “Rückenfigur”, or “figure seen from the back”. Why did I not know this before? The subject dates from antiquity, but the term originated in the German Romantic Movement of the 19th century and is most closely associated with the painter Caspar David Friedrich, whose work I’ve long admired. In fact, his paintings were the main catalyst for my current body of work, a series of anonymous figures I call “Journeywomen”.

Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, 1818.
Oil on canvas, 94.8 x 74.8 cm, Kunsthalle Hamburg.

The history of figures viewed from behind spans the entirety of visual culture, including graphics, cinema and photography. Among the painters who have employed the Rückenfigur in their works are Rene Magritte, Man Ray, Salvador Dali, Gustave Courbet, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres and, most notably and consistently, another of my favourite artists, Vilhelm Hammershøi.

Vilhelm Hammershoi, Interior with Young Woman Seen from the Back, 1904.
 Oil on canvas, 60.5 x 50.5 cm, Randers Museum of Art.

The Rückenfigur is often portrayed as an outsider, reflecting a mood of quietude, self-containment and isolation, although she doesn’t necessarily travel alone. Paradoxically, she invites us to share her journey and see the world through her eyes, to the extent that we almost become her.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, ca 1597.

I’m fairly well versed in the ever-evolving history of  “rear view portraits,” yet this feels like a real light bulb moment. I am amazed at how empowering it is to to know that there is a collective name for them. To my mind, it validates and unifies this somewhat scattered tradition. Moreover, the Rückenfigur addresses a particularly divisive time in our history, when our state of disconnection - from ourselves, from each other and from the natural world - seems greater than ever before. 

Only connect! That was her whole sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die.

– E. M. Forster, Howards End, 1910.

Photo credit for above image: Shane Jones.

Putting it together on Sondheim’s 90th

‘...The art of making art

Is putting it together...

Bit by bit,

Putting it together...

Piece by piece -

Only way to make a work of art.

Every moment makes a contribution,

Every little detail plays a part.

Having just a vision's no solution,

Everything depends on execution:

Putting it together-

That's what counts...’

🎼

Putting it Together (excerpt) from Sunday in the Park with George, 1984, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. Happy 90th birthday, Mr. Sondheim. 🎂

Pictured above: Stephen Sondheim
Pictured top: Sunday, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm (progress view)

An invitation to 20[2020]

In celebration of 20 years of Tacit Galleries, Melbourne, 130 invited artists have created works on 20 x 20 inch canvases for the exhibition 20[2020]. 

A personal invitation from me to you is attached.

The opening event is next Wednesday, 4 March, from 6.30 pm -  8pm.

Exhibiting artists include: Helen Anderson, Jan Atyeo, TJ Bateson, Dave Behrens, Elena Berkovich, Cate Blackmore (Tas), Joe Blundell, Louise Blyton, Celia Bridle, Peter Brook, Terri Brooks, Jennifer Buntine, Robyn Burgess, Raymond Carter, Magda Cebokli, Jane Chandler, Elizabeth Colbert, David Coles, Helen Connell, Tim Craker, Sally D’Orsogna, Craig Daniels, Lana de Jager, Denise de Keyzer, Merrian Dennis, Lesley Dickman, Helen Edwards, Sharman Feinberg, Louise Foletta, Betsy Forster, Andrew Foster, Anne Forwood, David Gatiss, Christine Gibbs,  Jackie Gorring, Keiko Goto (Qld), Pete Gurrie, Julie Hall, Rosemary Harris-Arnott, Geoff Harrison, Jodi Heffernan, Barb Henderson, Beth Hulme, Anita Iacovella, Susan Illingworth, Ilona Jetmar, Shane Jones, Dinusha Joseph, Jessie Yvette Journoud-Ryan, Julie Keating, Wendy Kelly, Caroline Kennedy, Michele Kershaw (Qld), Hyun Ju Kim, Robyn Kinsela (NSW), Deborah Klein, Vietta Korren-Steele, Damon Kowarsky, Jo Lane, Nadeen Lovell (WA), Jennifer Marshall (Tas), Marina Mason, Mark McCarthy,  Janine McGuinness, Helen McInnis, Ruth McIntosh, David McLeod, Paula McLoughlin, Milan Milojevic (Tas), Mark Minty, Jesslyn Moss, Karen Neal, Elizabeth Nicholls, Kerrilee Ninnis, Lisa O’Keefe, Veronica O’Leary (NSW), Theo Papathomas, Yeonjoo Park, Gaye Paterson, Jim Pavlidis, Milos Pelikan, David Lee Pereira, Linda Pickering, Shirley Ploog, Cat Poljski, Belinda Pringle, Julie Puchalski, John Rabling, Bronwyn Rees, Nina Ryan, Virginia Ryan, Mark Seabrook, Lisa Sewards, Christopher Shelton, Bevan Shepherd, Trish Sidway, Rat Simpson, Beata Slifierz, Jennifer Smyth, Kristen Solury, Kerry Spokes, Susan Stevenson, Ali Stoner, Mary Sullivan, Liz Sullivan, Peter Summers, Annemarie Szeleczky, Trevor Tagliabue, Elizabeth Tarrant, Anna Taylor, Heather Telford, Jenani Therone, Lena Torikov, Eugene von Nagy, Susan Wald, Jenni Walker, Brenda Walsh, Steve Warburton, Andrew Weatherill, Michael Wedd, Linda Weil, Irene Wellm, and Katherine Westfold.

20[2020] continues until 15 March.

Tacit Galleries 
123a Gipps Street
Collingwood 

Victoria 3066

Gallery hours: Wednesday - Sunday 11 - 5pm

(Image on invitation: New Horizon, 2020, acrylic on canvas, 20 x 20 inches (50.8 x 50.8 cm).
Photo credit: Tim Gresham).

New Horizon and FOTP 2020

New Horizon (progress view) acrylic on linen, 50 x 50 cm

New Horizon, the painting-in-progress pictured above, is destined for the exhibition 20 [2020], a celebration of the 20th anniversary of Tacit Galleries in Melbourne.

Exhibition dates are 4 - 15 March, 2020.

Meanwhile, over at Moth Woman Press, we are busily constructing four new zines and making up some new copies of old favourites (see below) for the upcoming Sticky Institute Festival of the Photocopier Zine Fair, which this year will be held at the Meat Market in North Melbourne.

FOTP 2020 is a two-day event, running from 8 - 9 February. Moth Woman Press will be there on the second day, Sunday, 9 February, from 12 - 5 pm and would love to see you there.

For full details about FOTP 2020, visit Moth Woman Press HERE.

All proceeds from Moth Woman Press sales at FOTP 2020 will be donated to Wildlife Victoria's Victorian Bushfire Appeal.

Save the date

If your year isn't already booked up, please save the date for Backstories, my solo exhibition at Stephen McLaughlan Gallery, Melbourne. The show doesn't open until 15 April, with the opening event on Saturday, 18 April from 2 - 4 pm. But with Easter buns already in the shops, it will come round fast enough. I do hope you can make it.

A new dawn

The sun rises on a new decade and a kinder, gentler world in Soothsayer (acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm).

Wishing you a safe and happy New Year, with all the good things you would wish for yourself in 2020, and beyond.

Another New Year's Eve

At the start of 2019, the painting in the top left-hand corner above was on my easel. I wondered then, as we all do when another year has just lurched to a close, what the coming year would bring. If only I'd known.

The images above are not my "best nine"; rather they are a random selection of some of the works undertaken during 2019. It was a surprisingly productive year. Given the unexpected direction our lives took, I still can't believe I managed any studio time at all.

Most years are a roller coaster ride and this one was no exception. I hope it has ended on a positive note for you, as it has for Shane, Alice and I. 

Interim Studio

In the last few weeks, many of our possessions have made their way from Abbotsford to Ballarat prior to the big move in October - yet it feels as if we have barely scratched the surface. 

We’ve just changed storage firms (don’t ask) and it’s highly likely my studio will be requisitioned as a backup storage area before too long. In anticipation of this, l've converted the third bedroom of my Ballarat house into a makeshift studio. It was remarkably straightforward to set up a simple, functional workstation and even make up for some of the precious time already lost during this extremely disruptive period. In fact, the same room served as a temporary work space before my studio was completed several years ago. No doubt this has made it much easier to settle in and get straight down to it.

Before I had a chance to resume work, however, Alice gave the room a quick once over, dashed out and returned with her favourite toy mouse, a seal of approval if ever there was one. In the top view, she checks out Ecdysis, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, a work in progress. Like the lone traveller on the dust jacket of Norbert Wolf's Caspar David Friedrich: 'The Wanderer above a Sea of Mist', c.1818 (above left) it still has a long way to go. 

Rambling Rose

Rambling Rose, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm. (Progress view)

With the demands and distractions of the upcoming move presently dominating our lives, the relatively uninterrupted studio time I previously enjoyed seems like a lifetime ago.

Godwin Bradbeer, a former colleague from my teaching days in the Drawing Department at RMIT University, maintains that even brief periods at the easel can add up, and, in time, yield results. So it has proved to be with Rambling Rose, the painting featured here.

For several disheartening weeks, the work has hung in limbo, but whenever I could - which hasn’t been nearly as often as I’d have liked – I’ve slunk into the studio and snatched a moment or two with it. Not surprisingly, progress has been sluggish - to the extent that I was about to write it off as a lost cause.

Mostly, it feels as if the painting - and a printmaking/artist book project I also have on the go - have become interruptions to packing up for the move, rather than vice versa. It’s only today that the painting appears to be coming together at last (unless I’m deluding myself, which is entirely possible).

It’s gratifying - and a considerable relief - that I can soon (hopefully) count the painting among its sister works in the Backstory suite, particularly as this marks something of a turning point in its development. Rambling Rose is the first of several planned works to reintroduce tattoo iconography, beginning with the intermittently recurring emblem of a red rose. 

Selected progress views are directly below:

The Other

Another painting that's nearing the finishing line, although it seems to me that the works in this series will never be quite finished. There's always a hair out of place somewhere.

Top: The Other, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm. (Progress view).

VOYAGER

The Untold Want

The untold want by life and land ne'er granted,

Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find.

Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

Pictured top: Voyager, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, considerably reworked and near completion.

For earlier progress views of Voyager, go HERE. 

Soothsayer - a work in progress

Featured on this International Women’s Day are selected developmental stages of Soothsayer, acrylic on linen, 40.5 x 30.5 cm, flanked (in the top and bottom views) by corresponding works from the steadily growing Back Story suite.

Slow art

Voyager, acrylic on linen 40.5 x 30.5 cm (progress view). 

Developing several paintings simultaneously makes for slower progress with works such as this one, but does bring a sense of unification to the series as a whole. It’s not an uncommon approach with my linocuts, for example, the current Frankenstein’s Women suite (see previous post) but not so usual in my painting practice. At times, having too many unresolved paintings on the go can be a tad unnerving, so I may need to reign them in a little. That aside, the technical, aesthetic and conceptual cross-pollination has been beneficial, making me less inclined to be precious about individual works.

An update

On the second day of January, this was the painting on my easel. It’s now February 2, and it’s occurred to me that I’ve never posted an update. 

A couple of weeks back, I actually dared to think the work was finished, so much so that I had it documented by the exemplary Tim Gresham (see above). It was only after looking at his photo that I realised I’d made a huge mistake with the braiding. Like most artists, I can sometimes get too close to my work. Often, I find that a photograph gives me some necessary distance, enabling me to focus more clearly and, most crucially, pick up on any glaring errors. 

Making the necessary corrections wasn’t as difficult or invasive as I’d feared. (See top). The work is still not quite done, but getting there, I think.