above
Polystyrene Promises
Polystyrene, grey acrylic paint, sand
1780mm height x 2400mm length x 550mm depth
2011
Bridle Veil I, tulle, leather, 2011
Bridle Veil II, tulle, leather, 2011
Bridle Veil III, tulle and leather, 2011
Husband Catcher II, Faux blond hair, diamantes, kitchen sieve, and garter strap. 2011.
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Husband Catcher I
Faux auburn hair, mirror, faux pearls and silk rose.
2011
'Obey', stainless steel and diamante spur, black fondant icing sugar, 2011
Manicure, cake blanks, fondant icing sugar, acrylic nails, 2011
Owl Man, fondue cement, life sized, 2008
Untitled, baby's bottle, red lipstick, 2006
Untitled, baby's booties, steel spike heel, 2007
The Burning of Cello Lady
Clockwise from left: Natalie Williamson, Rizzy, Kelli Trinidad, Penny, Gemma Ben-Ary and Poppy Ben-Ary (centre).
Cello Lady was born to burn, but her story is more complex than that. First we took her to a burn as part of the Northbridge Festival in Russel Square. She looked magnificent, and other sculptures were lit, one after another, but as dusk fell, the fireys stepped in and said that the wind had changed, and that she must go untorched that night. So then we took her to Southbound Festival. Again, she watched patiently as other sculptures went up in flames. Again, the wind changed, and our burning permit was revoked. Eventually she came to my home to Darlington and stood in my garden, and forlornly played her cello through several passing seasons. The artists scattered across Australia in pursuit of love and career options. Then, one winter evening, an impromptu gathering bought us all together again. "It's time to burn that lady" we said.
Clockwise from left: Natalie Williamson, Rizzy, Kelli Trinidad, Penny, Gemma Ben-Ary and Poppy Ben-Ary (centre).
Cello Lady was born to burn, but her story is more complex than that. First we took her to a burn as part of the Northbridge Festival in Russel Square. She looked magnificent, and other sculptures were lit, one after another, but as dusk fell, the fireys stepped in and said that the wind had changed, and that she must go untorched that night. So then we took her to Southbound Festival. Again, she watched patiently as other sculptures went up in flames. Again, the wind changed, and our burning permit was revoked. Eventually she came to my home to Darlington and stood in my garden, and forlornly played her cello through several passing seasons. The artists scattered across Australia in pursuit of love and career options. Then, one winter evening, an impromptu gathering bought us all together again. "It's time to burn that lady" we said.
