I am having my first solo exhibition in Sydney, at Sheffer Gallery in Darlington, opening on the 23rd of March 2011. Below are a couple of images from the exhibition, the poem that was the namesake for the show, and an essay about the show, kindly written by Will Sturrock.
Into My Own
by Robert Frost
ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
Laura Jones – Mon Cœur (Into My Own)
By William Sturrrock
In a discussion about Jones’ attitude towards the production of works in this show she rather obscurely referred to an excerpt from one of Henry Lawson’s lesser known poems, ‘A stranger on the Darling’:
Men of Bourke, the world is moving,
and you’re moving with it too,
And you live a little faster than
your fathers used to do;
But although the bush was lonely,
and the life was rather slow,
Don’t forget the vanished seasons
on the Darling long ago.
Written around 1892, the poem recounts Lawson’s experience of and observations in the Australian outback after being forced by his employer, The Bulletin on a sojourn away from Sydney where his alcoholic tendencies had begun to spell ruin for his career and health. Lawson’s lucidity during this time has been attributed to both drying-out and working with the farmers, traders and squatters who characterised ‘the bush’ and in doing so, confronting the harsh conditions of the land and life in drought stricken New South Wales around Bourke. Disconnected from the city, albeit only temporarily, Lawson’s observations about the change of pace at which people conducted their work and lives can be interpreted as an accusation against his contemporaries’ amnesia for the land’s unsympathetic environment and the toils of their forbears and rural brethren.
In reference to this poem Jones did infer that she has had a common experience to Lawson but likened the poet’s sojourn to any time one spends in the bush studying (sketching) the landscape, as well as observing the land and other people’s experience of it. Unlike Lawson, Jones has volunteered herself to experience the bush but the outcome, acknowledging the disconnectedness of her contemporaries’ appreciation and utilisation of the land is comparable. Rather than focus her energy into lyrical provocations, Jones’ time in the studio is spent translating notable memories into painting and works on paper.
Depending upon an artist’s awareness of distractions and stores of productive energy, time spent in the studio provides an opportunity to briefly withdraw from a faster paced life in which time based tasks and interactions govern the nature of experiences as they occur. In the studio it is possible to partially disable the urge to keep moving in the same direction and abandon repetition altogether through engaging memory with creativity. Instead of using memory to inform decision making, it is used in the studio to conjure up episodes of experiences, never quite the way they appeared but made vivid by the way one would like them to appear again. Through this process of reflection, memory is automatically harnessed to interpret what was seen as informed by other senses.
One outstanding attribute of Jones’ work is her empathetic, respectful depiction of the land. In this series Jones has painted from memory alone and her intimate knowledge of the landscapes in which she spent her childhood is abundantly clear. Originally from Kurrajong and more recently spending time around the Blue Mountains, Bathurst and Hill End, Jones has allowed her recollections of the landscape to become pictograms of her experiences. Her sincere sensitivity to colour and the delicate weight of her brush strokes combine to achieve scenes that emit delight.
For this series, Jones has dropped the palate knife that defined her previous bodies of portrait work but not altogether ignored its effectiveness in delivering wholesome parcels of textured colour. Jones’ former mentor, Ben Quilty’s lasting influence is her use of monotonal greys to acutely observe daylight that most pay no attention to. Like Quilty, Jones articulates with shades of grey not to resolve geometric concerns such as perspective but to show what is essential in bringing out a subject’s appearance as obscured by the harsh glare of Australian daylight. Incidentally, the admission of these shades of grey express Jones’ earnest interrogation of the complexity of Australia’s social fabric and in the tradition of Quilty, and more historically Lawson too, Jones exhibits her objectivity towards her contemporary common, suburban surrounds.
Representative of memory as well as emotion, her current work is more abstract and less rational than her previous portraits and interiors and while governed by the principles of proportion her representation of subjects is more spontaneous and draws upon reminiscence more than still life. The cliché of ‘going bush’ is overstated by Australian artists but Jones illustrates why it’s important for a painter to be grounded by the landscape and to show it off, not only for what it is, but also how it should be remembered.
