Ella beach

Turtle beach, today. There are many intersting subjects here. Trying to get back into the hang of it, I realize how much I have regressed,especially in terms of speed. Here's a couple from today's outing.

THE OLD, OLD MAN

"I have no one but myself to fend for", he muttered whilst shifting his weight from one side to the other.  Looking off into the distance blankly he hesitantly continued, "That is why, the last time you saw me, I was standing right in the middle of the free way dodging vehicles. I like to try and see if I'd get killed. I only do that though after I have had a few drinks. I guess my time has not come yet but there is one thing am certain of and that is when I die, I won't be missed".

The above is part of a conversation I recently had with an old man down on the street. He sits in his corner oblivious to the world with his plastic of 'bettle nut' which is currently banned in Port Moresby. Like many other unemployed people in the city, selling the banned nut is his way of making ends meet. And because his younger years never yielded him any children, he has no obligations other than his own wellbeing to worry about that's why he spends the money he makes on the illegal grog better known as "steam".

Before we part, he tells me about his drinking partner, an old dog who's been his mate for so long now he can't remember where they first met. They still meet every so often nowadays to have a few drinks. I notice his eyes light up as he goes on to describe his well to do mate. He wears a huge grin on his face as he tells me of how his friend was fortunate enough to marry and have kids who now look after him. He raises his his chest and points to the buildings under construction down at the waterfront and tells me that his friend is still working there. I make a commitment to visit him again someday shake his hands and we parted ways.

As I walked away, I was searching for one good thing to take away from that conversation.  Despite his misery, he still found it in himself to celebrate the life of his friend. I decided to come home and paint his friend, only as I imagined him to be. Tomorrow I am planning to uphold my commitment and visit the old man thus I thought today,I'll share with you, "Friend of a friend of mine". He lives in my mind only because he has the power to light up the eyes of my tired and weary friend.

Without Fresh Eyes

There is really no excuse for not having continued to blog after returning to Papua New Guinea from New Zealand thus I will not attempt to make any. I will however try to dissect this issue, for my own benefits really and to give meaning to this overwhelming lack of enthusiasm to take to the streets with sketch pad and medium to find beauty amidst the all the chaos.

Simmering beneath my skin is a lack of enthusiasm towards capturing all the struggle that exists on the street. So much so that it bothers me to the point of wanting to help rather than documenting or commenting on it all through my art.

My time with The Roots in Auckland has impacted my perspective of the role of myself as an artist in a country like Papua New Guinea thus I find myself at the crossroads. New found ideologies push me toward using creativity for the greater good of my people. My love for oils and my canvas' keep my dream of one day attending the Florence Art Academy in Italy alive. I have an artist residency to prepare for and somewhere in between squeeze in 7 weeks of learning to work with biotecture. But if when reading this blog entry you have doubted the life of this blog after today be rest assured that for as long as the the pulse of the street is beating, this hands will keep on dancing, waltzing with the mediums to find beauty amidst the chaos, truth beyond the life of the simple man who is really the heart that beats that street.

Here's to beauty and beyond!

Title: Untitled
Medium: oil on board
Size: A3
Dated: March 2014.