Sand Marks
Foggy Morning
Oil on Canvas
h-1370 x w 1010 mm
Oil on Canvas
h-1370 x w 1010 mm
This series began with walking our dogs along our local beaches.
As we walked I began to notice all sorts of marks and structures left in the sand by creative people, young through to old.
These marks existed as a kind of ephemeral signiture, voice or a piece of their inner being left there on the sand that particular day. Existing for a short time and then washing away in the tide or softly blowing away in the wind.
I began by photographing them and then creating a series of drawings around these sand marks, (which you can see under my 'Drawings' Tab). As they developed, I found myself changing the meaning and context by mixing the different beaches together and adding other symbols to the mix. This was a way to stamp my own inner thoughts, feelings and mark apon these works. Then I went on to oils and began to paint on canvas.
I began this series in 2016 and slowly worked on each piece over 4 years, until in 2019 the most horrendous event
in our lives occured. Our youngest son died at age 30 in September of that year. Of course all work stopped. It would take me another 18 months before I could even step back into my studio.
When looking over these paintings now, I can see all my inner worries were etched into the paint. They were screaming at me, trying to warn me of the coming future dread, which came to pass.
On the weekend before my son died I had even placed the painting named 'Threatening' onto my easel to work on further.
This painting is of an atomic explosion happening beyond the sand dunes on a beach and in the foreground is a sandmark of a house.
(Which I had photographed earlier. I think maybe a child had scratched it into the sand on our local beach at the time). I noticed later that the roof peak of the house could also be taken as an arrow pointing to the explosion. This painting was quite strange because I wasn't really sure how it actually connected with the rest of the series, other than the sand mark within it. Although, I was thinking of the wars happening over the other side of the world from New Zealand at the time and how we look on from a distance, hence the explosion being over the other side of the dunes, not being able to witness the impact, only the cloud of distruction afterwards, as the debris flew up into the air. As I painted, I could see faces naturally emerging out of the brush strokes in the sand dunes. When I look now, it was like the faces of people who had past away, emerging to tell me something. After my son died, I worked on defining the faces more on the left hand side, I suppose with the thought of finishing the work, but I soon stopped, not really knowing why I was painting them any more. Some faces being quite worrying and frightening. This painting's symbolic meanings developed totally differently for me before and after my sons death, but then again its the same, as it is all trauma. It was a warning from an unknown place. A warning which was pointing closer to home. A warning I wish I was able to decipher in time!
I can see now how all these paintings relate to the challenges we were going through with our son throughout this time.
Ironically my last painting of the series is of a seagull flying, which I finished before he died.
At the one year mark after our son passed, we let his ashes go to the sea. We dropped flowers and a piece of our son's favourite cake into the sea and a sole seagull circled and swooped down and picked the cake up and flew away with it. It felt as if my son was within that gull. I called the gull painting 'Fly my Pretties' after the song - 'I am gone' by the band 'Fly my Pretties'. This is signifigant because for a few weeks before he died, everytime we got into my husbands car, this song would automatically come up first on Spotify.
We couldn't work out why it was this song every time, even though we had left it at different songs when we closed it down. After he died it stopped doing this? Another warning perhaps from beyond?
I didn't know before I started this series that I would actually be washing away my own son's ashes at the beach he loved so dearly,
just like the sand marks were washed away in the tide.
Sadly, the black dog won.
I still need to finish some of the works from this series, but I have been staring at them ever since, not really sure how to move forward and if they need finsihing at all?
Perhaps I'll just leave them as they are, unfinished.
As we walked I began to notice all sorts of marks and structures left in the sand by creative people, young through to old.
These marks existed as a kind of ephemeral signiture, voice or a piece of their inner being left there on the sand that particular day. Existing for a short time and then washing away in the tide or softly blowing away in the wind.
I began by photographing them and then creating a series of drawings around these sand marks, (which you can see under my 'Drawings' Tab). As they developed, I found myself changing the meaning and context by mixing the different beaches together and adding other symbols to the mix. This was a way to stamp my own inner thoughts, feelings and mark apon these works. Then I went on to oils and began to paint on canvas.
I began this series in 2016 and slowly worked on each piece over 4 years, until in 2019 the most horrendous event
in our lives occured. Our youngest son died at age 30 in September of that year. Of course all work stopped. It would take me another 18 months before I could even step back into my studio.
When looking over these paintings now, I can see all my inner worries were etched into the paint. They were screaming at me, trying to warn me of the coming future dread, which came to pass.
On the weekend before my son died I had even placed the painting named 'Threatening' onto my easel to work on further.
This painting is of an atomic explosion happening beyond the sand dunes on a beach and in the foreground is a sandmark of a house.
(Which I had photographed earlier. I think maybe a child had scratched it into the sand on our local beach at the time). I noticed later that the roof peak of the house could also be taken as an arrow pointing to the explosion. This painting was quite strange because I wasn't really sure how it actually connected with the rest of the series, other than the sand mark within it. Although, I was thinking of the wars happening over the other side of the world from New Zealand at the time and how we look on from a distance, hence the explosion being over the other side of the dunes, not being able to witness the impact, only the cloud of distruction afterwards, as the debris flew up into the air. As I painted, I could see faces naturally emerging out of the brush strokes in the sand dunes. When I look now, it was like the faces of people who had past away, emerging to tell me something. After my son died, I worked on defining the faces more on the left hand side, I suppose with the thought of finishing the work, but I soon stopped, not really knowing why I was painting them any more. Some faces being quite worrying and frightening. This painting's symbolic meanings developed totally differently for me before and after my sons death, but then again its the same, as it is all trauma. It was a warning from an unknown place. A warning which was pointing closer to home. A warning I wish I was able to decipher in time!
I can see now how all these paintings relate to the challenges we were going through with our son throughout this time.
Ironically my last painting of the series is of a seagull flying, which I finished before he died.
At the one year mark after our son passed, we let his ashes go to the sea. We dropped flowers and a piece of our son's favourite cake into the sea and a sole seagull circled and swooped down and picked the cake up and flew away with it. It felt as if my son was within that gull. I called the gull painting 'Fly my Pretties' after the song - 'I am gone' by the band 'Fly my Pretties'. This is signifigant because for a few weeks before he died, everytime we got into my husbands car, this song would automatically come up first on Spotify.
We couldn't work out why it was this song every time, even though we had left it at different songs when we closed it down. After he died it stopped doing this? Another warning perhaps from beyond?
I didn't know before I started this series that I would actually be washing away my own son's ashes at the beach he loved so dearly,
just like the sand marks were washed away in the tide.
Sadly, the black dog won.
I still need to finish some of the works from this series, but I have been staring at them ever since, not really sure how to move forward and if they need finsihing at all?
Perhaps I'll just leave them as they are, unfinished.
Untitled
Oil on Canvas
h 1370 x w 1010 mm
Oil on Canvas
h 1370 x w 1010 mm
Swirl
Oil on canvas.
h 1220 x w 915 mm
Sold
Oil on canvas.
h 1220 x w 915 mm
Sold
'Letting go'
Oil on canvas
h 505 x w 405 mm
Oil on canvas
h 505 x w 405 mm
No winners, no losers
Oil on canvas
h 760 x w 1010 mm
Oil on canvas
h 760 x w 1010 mm
Where is the seat of Consciousness?
Oil on Linen
h 460 x w 350 mm
Oil on Linen
h 460 x w 350 mm
Girl digging in the sand
Oil on Linen
h 455 x w 350 mm
Oil on Linen
h 455 x w 350 mm
Ominous
Oil on canvas
h 760 x w 1015
Unfinished
Oil on canvas
h 760 x w 1015
Unfinished
Where is the seat of consciousness? (2)
Oil on canvas
h 1015 x w 760 mm
Unfinished
Oil on canvas
h 1015 x w 760 mm
Unfinished
Threatening
Oil on canvas
h 1220 x w 915 mm
Unfinished
Oil on canvas
h 1220 x w 915 mm
Unfinished
Fly my Pretties
Oil on canvash
h 760 x w 1015 mm
Oil on canvash
h 760 x w 1015 mm
To enquire about purchasing any of these artworks, please contact Megan