4 June 2023
pondering my next venture
4 January 2023
Welcome, 2023
Oh creativity, you are such a fickle mistress!
In this New Year period I am sitting at my studio desk (where I paint in acrylic and watercolour) having just visited the space where I paint in oils, and I am torn, torn, torn. Which one am I to follow? Or can I make room for all three?
13 December 2022
Well this is a surprise!
I'll bet, like me, you thought this blog had been consigned to the archives. I certainly didn't expect to feel the urge to write on it again. But here goes...
I was looking for a post to share with a dog-loving friend, and decided to read a few more myself. I'm enjoying the trips down memory lane. I found this post about my turangawaewae particularly interesting in these present moments/times/days.
Christmas is coming. With no children around me, and consumerism not being my thing, I haven't really thought about it too much. Random gifts have been distributed by mail order, and as I prefer not to have things delivered to me - far too much effort trying to retrieve them from the post office - I am not expecting any. I am joining friends to eat too much food, but our celebrations will be moderate - at least, I am hoping so!
I sometimes wonder why, in these secular times, we continue with these traditions that cause so much stress within families. The original Christmas was simple, a birth in a manger, with cattle around. It bears little resemblance to our commercial chaos today. Have I become the Grinch? If I have, I don't mind too much. After all, the Grinch did learn that Christmas was more than presents and noise. I don't think it is Christmas that upsets me, but all the stress that can go with it. The stress not so much for me, but for those who believe that they must stretch themselves beyond their means to create a "Christmas" for others.
On Wednesday I bought a Christmas gift. Of sorts. At the weekly market a stall holder tried to persuade me to buy some of the extra Christmas fare she had on her stall. Her usual domestic wares were not selling; these are tough times. The market was empty, noone was buying. I didn't need the things that were for sale. My meander through the market was purely to collect a parcel of a product I was trialling with my paintings (delivered to a shop, it's better that way), and for company on an otherwise quiet and bleak day. I turned her down. I moved away about four paces, then returned. I had changed my mind. I bought two things. Because Christmas is really about giving, after all.
I have been back in New Zealand, living behind closed borders for two years while recovering from Long Covid, re-establishing myself in the community I left, wondering about where I really belong. My physical health says Italy is better for me. My mountainside does me the world of good. But at Christmas time thoughts of grandchildren pull me in different directions. I live in two completely different worlds, and that is something that I simply need to accept. It's not that I "want my cake and eat it too" but the reality is that there is something in each place that fills some need within me.
Here in Italy I am free to paint, I am not being squashed into a box of expectations because, with my faltering Italian language and independent ways, I will never truly fit in. In New Zealand I am closer to family, and things are so much easier, but I also feel an unspoken pressure to conform to the expectations of others, whether those expectations are good for me or not. I have never seen myself as being a non-conformist, and a lifetime as a teacher would suggest that I am pretty good at conforming. So perhaps I was a well-trained conforming mis-fit all along. I can wear that. And so I will continue to live with the best and the worst of both worlds, for as long as I am able. And this year, that means Christmas on my own, which is quite OK too.
Christmas. What will it look like, this year? For me, this strange 2022, Christmas is a rather funny looking reindeer who invited himself home with me. I think I'll keep him. He's quiet company while I paint, and I haven't started talking to him - yet!
May your December be stress free, healthy and filled with family and friends - or peaceful and serene, with enough to eat, and good music to keep you company.
27 April 2019
Powerful work by Robyn Hughes
The inaugural exhibition of these works in 2014, described by the gallery as "unmissable", was held in Whakatane, New Zealand. The works are on a very large scale, which no small screen can do justice to, but Robyn has kindly allowed me to publish the work here on the Legato blog. Please turn your sound on to hear the words of the soldiers as they went into Cassino.
Link: Into Cassino by Robyn Hughes
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_ZEPR6c3JA635aeWzKM1HNWhGK0bkuz9tf6OUHqJRvTVIdrf5tpg7lsk0D6dNpo9oVKnDX9IeWbPC5hEgsJ6tOPAEXCQM5nBeXvUVQGSHNO4NUEXTxKL4XKwTw1HyijixqdjJ41Hmto/s640/cassino-banner.jpg)
Updating and looking forward to 2019
It seems a long time since I posted here. A new hard drive in my computer and forgotten passwords, missing photographs that didn't arrive despite being sent three times, and a lot of travel to visit my veteran father in New Zealand. No one excuse big enough, but that was the reality of my life, so this blog, along with my children's book blog, was left to wither in cyberspace.
But we are back! It's the 75th anniversary of the battles for Cassino, and Legato (which has been visiting smaller towns like Colfelice and Roccasecca since the 70th anniversary - see the Facebook page for the Roccasecca event) will return to Cassino this year to a new venue a short walk from the railway station. More posts will follow on the Legato blog.
12 October 2018
25 April 2015
eight years
When I arrived here eight years ago, on a one year visa, I had no idea how long I would stay. Three months, perhaps, and then I would have an annual painting holiday here? Instead, my 'bolt hole' apartment became my home.
A year after my arrival I wrote this post. I am less sure of where home is now, or perhaps I am more sure that I have at least two homes.
The commemorations for 100 years of ANZAC hard on the heels of the 70th anniversary commemorations here last year have left me in a more fragile state. This week my heart and head have both been in New Zealand, and it has been harder keeping my daily life here moving smoothly.
Three days ago my permission to live here expired. My application to stay another two years is in. I play the waiting game. Will this remain my home, or will I become that visitor on a painting holiday every year? Rules are being tightened all through the systems here. I can't take anything for granted any more.
If home is where the heart is, then I am lucky to have many homes.
Today, the festival for the liberation of Italy (WWII) I take stock, paint some ANZAC Day poppies (see note below), and reflect on my fragmented life. I am grateful for all that I have learned over the past eight years. It hasn't been easy, but it has been a good life.
Happy anniversary to me.
Today I am grateful for options and choices.
Poppies: I am exhibiting here in June, and chose to focus on the poppy in all its meanings. I began with the joy and brightness of it, lifting myself away from the commemorative meanings. That series is the strong ones in the previous post. I have worked my way back to the poppy for commemoration. The timing is perfect, but it doesn't make the work any easier. I will be focusing on the art making, more than the significance, as I paint today. ANZAC Day has been emotional enough for me already. (Painting above is a detail from a poppy I painted last year).