The following videos have been created in the process of exploring themes and concepts that I would like to expand on in my visual arts practice.
“With a creative trinity, mind, body and spirit, one must yield something back to the generous earth”, Eleanor Dark, (1936). The National Writer’s House, Varuna, was gifted as a retreat for writers in 1989 by Mick Dark. It was initially the home of writers Eleanor Dark and Dr Eric Dark. The staff, family and caretakers of Varuna inhabit the liminal spaces, behind the scenes, providing a unique, creative environment. Finding the light through Dark explores the fleeting, dreamlike state where ideas, words and stories are formed. While writing about drawing during a Varuna residency provided by Western Sydney University, Janet utilised this creative thinking space, scribbling down ideas and doodling to enter the creative “zone”. Janet’s research explores the role and value of sketching for creative discovery. She combines the sketches, conversation fragments and voice of Eleanor Dark encountered in the hallways, books and shadows of Varuna. Noel Burgess’s haunting piece, A Blow to the Heart, evokes this creative dreamlike state where creativity is enabled and encouraged to flourish.
In 2017, I attended an art residency at Studio Kura in rural Fukuoka, Japan. I had lost my husband, Peter, to cancer a year earlier. This residency was a self-intervention designed to help resume my PhD research which had been put on hold. When I was there, Japan was experiencing a massive heatwave. The old air conditioner in my room died which coincided with the onset of serious menopausal symptoms (which I suffered in silence). Some days I was unable to venture far from a toilet. This made my month in Japan a challenge and slightly unreal. I was out of my comfort zone in every way – and I loved it. It was in that room that I experienced grief in a profound way. Each morning I woke to the wake-up song broadcast in the laneway. I used a wet towel draped across my body to get to sleep and keep my temperature down. Each morning the towel was pressed flat under my sweaty body taking on a life of its own. The towel soaked up my dreams, nightmares, and grief.
Improdraw 