Edible Gardens exhibition

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Edible Gardens Exhibition: Wed 24th Jan to  Sunday 3 MarchSeed Pods Werner Theinert

A cornucopia of creative, quirky, visual responses to the art of growing food.

People’s Choice prizes of $200 each for 2D and 3D artworks.

Exhibition is open daily 11am-3pm at ArtSpace Gallery Wonthaggi

Please join us: for the official opening on Sunday 4 Feb, 1-3pm.

 

Supporting and coinciding with

Bass Coast Adult Learning (BCAL)

Bass Coast Edible Gardens Weekend

Garden visits 10am -4pm on Sat 10 and Sun 11 February, 2024.

More info basscoastediblegardens.com

Golden Summer exhibition

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Award Winning Local Artists

12 December – 22 January

Treat yourself, family and friends over summer, visit our exclusive high quality Art Collection by our award winning local artists.

  • Paintings,
  • Prints,
  • Photography,
  • Glass Art,
  • Ceramics,
  • Sculpture,
  • Textiles,
  • Jewellery,
  • Literature,
  • Artist cards.

Artworks and artisan gifts are for sale.

ArtSpace Gallery is open daily from 11am -3pm.

Find the exhibition pdf here

Robyn Arianrhod

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Robyn Arianrhod--authorWe have just finished our extension which features an exotic day bed resplendent with a canopy of Indian wedding saris and covered with plumped up Turkish cushions.  It is the evening, in this cold winter of ours, and we are lounging, warmed by a glass of red or three, and listening to the hypnotic deep timbred voice of Robyn Arianrhod as she weaves her tales.

I have asked her to tell me the story of her life, but what she recounts is not so much that, but the lives of those who are from decades and centuries past, her scientific heroes, Einstein, Maxwell, Newton and two of her pioneering scientific heroines, Mary Somerville and Émilie Du Châtelet.  Listening to her that evening it is clear to me now, they truly are part of her.

Whether it is our conditioning or whether it is innate – isn’t it often the case you are either good at maths and science or good at English?  In Robyn’s case, she loved both.  She loved reading and remembers clearly the cherished leather-bound classics that she collected as a teenager sitting side by side with the obligatory Readers Digest editions that seem to have graced most homes in those days.

In the final two years of high school Robyn had to choose between her love of literature and her love of mathematics, physics and chemistry – courses were not so flexible then as they are today. In the end she chose to study science. You can imagine her joy then in her final year in high school when the chosen English required readings included the Biography of Marie Curie!  Both of her loves covered in one subject.

Just as she found it thrilling to learn about English and other languages, Robyn had the same thrill learning the language of mathematics. In addition she was fascinated by the idea of ‘proof’ with no shades of grey.

Not so much of a thrill was learning computer programming at university.  She remembers the tediousness of filling out with a paper clip the binary code on a large stack of computer cards, at a time when it would take a week to get a simple program processed and where the slightest punching error would result in it not working.  She says “Hats off to those early computer programmers because at the time I was so frustrated I thought, ‘This ain’t going nowhere!’”

As she neared the completion of her degree Robyn was increasingly concerned at the way mathematics had become the enabler of inventions that had led to nuclear weapons, excessive consumption, pollution and ultimately climate change. Like many in the 70s who saw a future ruined and resource starved planet, she sought an alternative lifestyle, and hoped she could use her knowledge in more positive ways.

She left her studies behind to live in a commune with several others spread out over many acres of idyllic but rugged bushland. They had no electricity or running water – a deliberate attempt to “tread lightly” on the earth. It was a tough but exciting existence. They needed to communicate with each other but were quite some distance apart and rarely in line of sight, and so they found some old wind up phones in a disposal store and took great joy finding usefulness in society’s cast offs. Cast offs that employed a simpler, less polluting kind of technology. Robyn remembered her physics classes about turning magnets to create electricity, just as turning the handle in the old phones set up an electromagnetic current. She became excited about science again, and sought other ways of making life in the wilderness more comfortable but with minimal impact – for instance, she and her partner built a solar powered stove, and ‘plumbed’ tank water into their tiny home, which they’d built from recycled materials.

But it was in the quiet times that she would immerse herself back into her beloved books.  And whilst wanting to be separated from the outside realities of too much technology and other problems, she couldn’t help but read about the scientific discoveries that were occurring in the world she had left behind.  Discoveries such as black holes, which fascinated her so much that she found a perfect mentor, Doctor Taylor, at a nearby regional University. He guided her reinvigorated love of science through to the completion of a Bachelor of Letters degree.  She would take the treasured library volumes back to the commune and by the light of a candle or kerosene lamp she became engrossed in the theory of general relativity.  So engrossed that she later went on to achieve a PhD.

By this time she had left the commune behind and during the course of her doctoral studies started to lecture at University. But now she’s concerned that government funding cuts and social policies mean that Universities are becoming increasingly vocationally oriented. Perhaps they would no longer welcome a young female hippy arriving unannounced with the wish to learn as much as she can about black holes. Nevertheless, she recognizes that in many ways it’s an exciting time to be studying science today. She hopes that in these trying times we will develop the political and personal will to ensure that technological innovations are applied more ethically and responsibly. She also hopes that we will continue to fund and respect “pure” maths and science – the kind that foster creativity and wonder, and that often lead to surprising new technologies as well.

Her own passion for her subject became a desire to share with others her joy of mathematical science.  She wanted to make her world accessible to others.  And so she started to write about her heroes. In 2003 she published her first book, Einstein’s Heroes: Imagining the World through the Language of Mathematics.  According to Ray Olson in Booklist, “Arianrhod’s achievement is to so masterfully combine history, biography, and mathematics as to absorb and enlighten even the mathematically maladroit.”

Robyn has now written three books which have been published in several languages and is close to finalising her fourth. I have now read her second book, Seduced by Logic, and I loved it – reading just a chapter at a time to fully absorb the content.  Jane Gleeson-White writing for the Sydney Morning Herald, describes Robyn’s style, “Arianrhod brings to her subject so much care, intelligence, attentiveness, enthusiasm and simmering excitement that the book reads like a good novel”.  If only my mathematics text books were written by Robyn!

Article written by Liane Arno.

 

Peter Cummings

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Peter Cummings--ArtistPeter Cummings has lived in many places but is now settled in Gippsland. “I can’t stand the thought of moving again – it would mean packing all the boxes.” If he did decide to move unlike most of us who would have all sorts of bits and pieces, Peter’s boxes would be predominantly filled with the books, tools and the products of his craft of creating exquisite glass objects.

As a young child, Peter used to go fossicking around the Cardinia Dam and would often find sparkling stones. He was sure he was going to be a jeweller but his father was equally sure that would not be the case. Instead Peter worked in a plant nursery in the 1970s and as he put it, “was on the trail in a happy, hippy way to make the world a better place.” That led him to take on the much more serious role of welfare worker. After ten years of trying to help the marginalised in our society, Peter was worn out. He escaped to a tiny cottage in the back blocks of Bendigo where he could rejuvenate.

And that meant using the skills he learned in the nursery to turn the overgrown cottage’s block into a garden. As he dug he came across a cabochon. And in this domed piece of polished glass he saw that flowers had been moulded into it. It was this tiny find that started Peter on his journey of creating imagery in glass. He bought the cheapest drill that he could find and sought to create his own flowers.

As he learnt more and developed new techniques he realised that in order to fund his passion he would have to find work. He worked wherever he could – from hotel/motels to bacon factories and chicken farms. He even worked in an orthodontic factory where his carving skills were found to be quite useful as he was required to carve the plastics down to 1 mm.

When Peter started engraving glass, it was an ancient and generally believed dying art form. In those early days however the Guild of Glass Engravers had been formed in Britain in order to re-invigorate the art of creative design and craftsmanship in glass engraving.

Unfortunately, no such guild existed then or now here in Australia and that has meant that Peter has struggled with his chosen field. He has had to battle with non-acceptance of his work because, as an example, a piece that he has carved on a bubble of glass is then blown by someone else – a glass blower – and therefore not all his own work. This is similar to saying that a painting will not be accepted because the artist has not made the canvas on which he paints.

Sometimes a gallery will not accept his work because he does not have tertiary qualifications. It reminds me somewhat when I was working as an HR consultant for a firm that proudly showed me their recruitment process which included culling applicants based on a score for each of the selection criteria. Qualifications was one of the criteria and it was worth 50 points out of 100. I asked if that meant that if someone applied to be a cleaner and they had a PhD that they would in all likelihood get the position even if they couldn’t clean. The response was an embarrassed, “Yes …”

Peter is always experimenting – whether in glass or trying other medium such as wood carving and painting – with each piece telling a story. Having worked as a welfare officer for so long, and having had a difficult upbringing, many of the pieces have a dark side to them. His current theme is fragile masculinity. His favourite at the moment is called “Indestructible Male”. It is an electronic key shaped like a coffin representing the young men who die feeling indestructible on the road.

One of his paintings is of Prometheus, from Greek mythology, whose punishment was to have an eagle feed on his liver. The liver grew back overnight only to be eaten again the next day. Peter’s modern take on this is to acknowledge the torture that drug addicts must face as the need for drugs eats into them every day.

For me, though, it is the cut and carved glassware that is the most beautiful. And in particular the fused glassware. Peter takes panels of glass, fuses them together and then carves into the layers, exposing the coloured glass behind. They are like versions of the cameo brooches that we know so well – but on a much larger scale. They are exquisite.

Just as I am about to say goodbye to Peter he surprises me when he says that he believes in the Holy Trinity. He clarifies that for him it has a different meaning to one we are used to. It is the trinity of the artist, the work and the viewer. All three are needed in order to appreciate art. For Peter, his life after death is not a soul going to heaven, but his evocative works here on earth that pose questions for each of us to answer.

 

Chris Lermanis

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Chris Lermanis--HolyWater1“Prior to coming to live in Wonthaggi I lived in Fitzroy in an old warehouse. It only had three brick walls to it as it shared a common wall in the form of a huge cool room with its neighbour which was a converted small goods factory. Prior to purchasing it I was an Industrial Relations Manager with Ansett and used to meet with trade union officials in the offices of the Liquor Trades Union across the road. I used to look down on it as I was berated by a looming six foot three trade union boss and think that at least I wasn’t getting as much a hard time as the pigs that were being turned into salamis just a few yards away.”

That was over 20 years ago and Fitzroy was on its way to becoming the eclectic mix of coffee shops, eateries and funky stores that it is today. Step back even further to the mid-1960s and the only whiff of coffee would be emanating from the houses of the many immigrants who had settled in the area. Slums were being demolished and in their place high rise apartment blocks erected. Families who had happily played cricket in the laneways of Fitzroy were forcibly evicted and their 100 year old homes demolished to make way for the ‘future’.

Chris Lermanis ventured into this landscape to record the scenes as a young man in his early twenties. It was quite a culture shock for Chris who was living in Brighton and who almost felt like a tourist as he took his photographs with his trusty Pentax camera. In those days of course there was no such thing as auto focus lenses or in built light metres. Everything had to be done from scratch – and quickly if he was able to capture the moment. And then into his dark room to develop the precious negatives.

Chris was born in Latvia in 1941 in the week that Hitler invaded Russia. His father did not see his son grow up as being a Latvian border guard he was not viewed favourably by the Russians and after a failed attempt to flee to Sweden ended up in the notorious Gulag. He was sentenced to 15 years forced labour. In 1943, Chris and his mother were being gathered up by the Germans along with thousands of others as the Russians fought back and ended up in a displaced persons camp which was to be their life for the next six years.

Chris and his mother migrated to Australia in the wave of the post war immigration boom and settled in the infamous Bonegilla Migrant Centre. Living in unlined timber-framed buildings with corrugated iron walls was not idyllic particularly in the heat of summer. Bonegilla was inadequately staffed and its ill-equipped hospital resulted in 13 newly arrived children dying from malnutrition. Over the years there were protests about food and conditions and posted signs declared “Bonegilla camp without hope”.

The family moved to Melbourne and after finishing high school Chris pondered which occupation he would settle in to. After 6 months of a merchandising cadetship with Myer Chris realised there would be no excitement for him in the sale of shoes or umbrellas and ended up as a primary school teacher. Interestingly in the early 60s primary school teaching was a serious male occupation unlike today where males account for less than 20% of the staff.

Whilst Chris and his mother tended to keep to themselves there was still contact with Latvian friends and relatives. In 1971 an adventurous Chris travelled to Latvia to meet his father. “It was emotionally harrowing and we even looked alike.” His father had remarried and warmly received his son, but spoke sparingly of his time in the Gulag. His father has since passed away, but lived to age 93 despite his deprivations. Chris thinks he is of good genetic material. He is thankful for his heritage of being born in a small and proud nation with a strong culture. But he did find the food of potatoes, cabbage and herring a little monotonous.

Chris loved teaching, but did not like the constant curriculum changes and departmental edicts. When Jeff Kennett’s government determined the closing of many schools Chris took the opportunity of a redundancy package. At the time he was living in Belgrave but he was never comfortable there over summertime. He remembered all too well that it was only by chance that his house had been saved in the Ash Wednesday fires of 1983 when he lived in Cockatoo. Each summer in Belgrave he and his wife lived in fear that their home would be destroyed and kept boxes by the door, ready to go.

In the end they decided to search for a place by the sea, away from the bush, and found their ideal in Woolamai.

In retirement Chris has found plenty of time to pursue his passion of photography. He takes himself away and above all is interested in capturing images that have something to say. He often travels to the Flinders Ranges where he takes photographs of what he thinks of as the essence of Australia – abandoned farmhouses with roofs, tanks and fences mostly of corrugated iron. Chris has still not succumbed to the temptations of digital technology – and steadfastly continues to enter into his darkroom to create his images.

His Holy Water series, which are a part of a larger theme of water in a dry land (some of which will be shown at the ASPI Easter Exhibition in Cowes), is a collection of photographs of outback churches with attached corrugated iron water tanks.

A collection, and on show at ArtSpace from the 27th of March, is a series of photographs of the outback silos standing 30 metres high and covered with spectacular murals. In order to create a photograph different to those developed by the many tourists that visit the silos, Chris has been back in the darkroom trialing an interesting technique – lith printing – which softens highlights and hardens shadows. “It is a slow process and each of the prints are a one off. Sure anyone can take a photograph but it is the story and where the image takes you that is important.”