In conversation with artist David Beaumont.

In the lead up to Of Blue - Paint and Sound on Saturday 12 October, collective member Suzie Wyllie sat down with acclaimed artist David Beaumont to have a chat about the making of this work and more.

Suzie: Kandinsky shared your affinity with the colour blue, “The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls towards the infinite, awakening a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural”.
What made you turn your attention to this quest to find the purest blue?

David: It was a combination of things really, around the time my mother had died, I was trying to capture the beauty of Swan Bay, obsessed by the ceiling of a fresco in Padua by Giotto and finally, a favourite local spot I would stalk at night and just sit, staring at the ocean.

S: You're in fine company: Picasso, Klein, Miró (just to mention a few) are all known for their blue periods. Why do you think artists over the centuries have sought to use this colour as a means of expression?

D: Blue is the color of the infinite- it’s all around us but elusive. It’s beyond the stars, deep and unknowing, subtle, strong and achingly beautiful. It ties to the world but also ties to something not of this world.

S: Can you describe the experience of creating this work and what it is like to be sharing it with the public eleven years on from its creation?

D: It was a strange process making the work. It started with the feeling of something inside that I could see but couldn’t find in any artist paint supplier. A long process of research and experimentation ensued-quite technical really with many failures but after about ten months something clicked with the materiality of the color I was searching for. Then finding the right marks, composition and surface etc… to carry the paint that I had made was the next challenge.
As for sharing it with the public, I don’t know how I feel-I’ll let you know after the night!

S: This project sees you collaborating with composer Ben Talbot-Dunn. Is collaborating something you have always been drawn to or is it new to your practice?

D: It's relatively new. It interests me to see how someone as talented and intuitive as Ben will respond to the work musically. Obviously, Ben has seen the work and I have discussed it a little-not too much as I don’t want him to influenced by my words. It is my preference for Ben to respond and create independently of me. On the night we come together. That’s exciting!

S: 'Double self-portrait with lipstick, bird and anxiety' (pictured above) was recently announced as a semi-finalist in this year's Doug Moran National Portrait Prize. This work has a fantastic story behind it, can you tell us what inspired the work?

D: Some years ago the local football club won the grand final. One Mad Monday the local OP Shops were busy with the team buying up and dressing in women’s undergarments and clothing then proceeding to the local hotel where it was closed to the public. I also spend a bit of time in St. Kilda-there is a man who I see regularly on the tram into the city. He is quiet and gentle in his early 60’s, grey hair and beard and usually wears a box pleat skirt with matching cardigan, pearls, shoes and stockings. My painting is a response to these varied expressions of gender.

S: What are you working on in the studio at the moment?

D: I’m actually a bit stuck in the studio at the moment-waiting for paintings to come, reading, thinking, looking……
But I need to do something with my hands so I am making some sculpture which I will cast in bronze.

Composer Ben Talbot-Dunn on creating 'Of Blue - Paint + Sound'

Suzie Wyllie had a chat with fellow Lighthouse Arts Collective member Ben Talbot-Dunn about his recent collaboration with artist David Beaumont and their upcoming show on 12 October.

Suzie: Your background is in songwriting and composition for media, have you ever collaborated on a project with a visual artist like this?

Ben: No. Never. I like the idea of it feeling like a “collaboration” though David’s work and my work are separate entities. It’s more like they are complementary to each other. Though I’ve drawn inspiration from his work and conversations we’ve had about it. 

S: Can you tell us a little about your process for creating this work?

B: I recently bought an old piano so I’ve been playing that a lot. The first thing I did was play around with some chords that gave me a feeling similar to the blue in the paintings. I found one chord and I played it over and over again like a loop. I then started singing a melody. I didn’t think there would be lyrics in this piece but the chord just tempted me to try and now there’s lyrics. Woops. 
After a while I started hearing other sounds in my head but I wanted to keep the piano and voice quite stark because they’re creating this meditative, chant-like element. I ended up using some field recordings I’ve made around Point Lonsdale and Queenscliff. I love how field recordings are just sounds we hear all the time and hardly notice but when you put them in a listening context you start hearing the music in them. I get excited by that kind of thing. 
I was talking to David about what the paintings mean to him and he mentioned it being partly to do with living in this area; the coastal environment. I’m a surfer so the ocean is a big inspiration for me. I’ve kind of made this music about three big, blue, changing waves. How they start somewhere deep in the ocean and end their life by breaking and disappearing on the sand. The birth and death of them. Also, waves are connected to the whole ocean and all the water that covers the world. 
It’s meant to be kind of otherworldly but then the field recordings are a reminder of human life.

S: What creative surprises have you discovered when composing in response to David’s Of Blue?

B: There’s something about the quality of the blue David uses in those paintings that makes me really slow down and get quiet. When beginning to write in response to that feeling I realised I like hypnotic, repetitive music with lots of space in it and I know not everyone likes that so I’m approaching it as more of an experiential bit of music rather than classic entertainment.

S: How is writing for this project different from other projects you’ve worked on?

B: It’s different because there’s no moving image to work to and it’s not a song in the traditional sense. It’s a long-form version of a song I guess. It’s like a song in super slow motion. I’ve made quite a lot of electronic music using loops and samples in the past and I love that stuff but this is like a more organic and slowed down version of that.

S: What do you think of when you think of the colour blue?

B: The ocean. Joni Mitchel. Blue wrens. 

In conversation with Ella Thompson

In the lead up to Ella Thompson's gig on Friday 26 July, Suzie Wyllie from Lighthouse Arts Collective caught up with the artist to find out more about her creative process and the forming of POOL, her independent record label and arts publication.

Suzie: Your work evokes a deep sensory response in the listener. There is artistry to your creating which seems to draw from all mediums, a pooling of form, colour, poetry and place. Does the creative process always begin with sound for you? Or are there various entry points to the way you create?

Ella: Sound is usually my first entry point to creating new work. A lot of my songwriting starts with improvisation and then I build a form around that. Words come from sounds and I shape a picture or story from there. Particularly in my solo work, I want the music to evoke a sensory response, textures in the sound and visual that you can feel on your skin. I am interested in how music and art make someone feel in their day or in an ephemeral moment, I am not a purist in any particular medium. I make beats on my phone and sometimes spend weeks on 15 seconds of music. Most importantly creating is my way of synthesising my internal and external experiences and thoughts into something positive for myself and hopefully whoever is listening. This is my way of growing and transforming.

S: Your career has seen you collaborate with exceptional artists from across the Australian music scene as well as celebrated international artists! Can you share a standout experience that you feel directly informed the direction of your solo releases?

E: Collaboration is so much fun, it energises me and fills me up with ideas and support. Solo work feeds the quieter need for a reflective time and empowers me to figure things out on my own. I think both are vital to my process, we all need each other at some point in the line. My favourite collaborations are always with friends, creative relationships take a long time to cultivate when we learn new skills together along the way it makes the creative unit all the more unique. I have had some incredible moments with people that I never imagined standing next to, performing with Mark Ronson, Kevin Parker, Andrew Wyatt et al. one of the coolest weeks of my life. Creating ‘Like Running Water’ with Sui Zhen, Prue Stent, Honey Long and Clio Renner was a dream. Learning how to sing from Renee Geyer and Vika Bull was epic. I am very lucky to have had these experiences and just shows you never know what the future holds.

S: POOL is a record label and arts publication you started with the aim of creating a unique platform for artists to share, unite and intersect. From reading the manifesto, I am struck by your passion to foster creative innovation, as well as your commitment to nurture and celebrate difference. I sense a desire to be apart of reshaping the conversation, broadening and diversifying the artistic landscape, helping to give voice to all creative expression? Was the creation of POOL in response to aspects of the music industry that you had grown tired of?

E: Starting POOL was an idea that came up after wanting to create a bit more infrastructure around releasing my own work and thinking about how creative work is never really limited to one medium, how we respond is usually physical and/or emotional and not limited to one section of the industry. I want the publication to have a focus on collaboration, we are constantly pooling together our skills and experiences, how we can build an artist-run collective to learn and understand how best to grow sustainable creative careers. I think sometimes we are a bit scared to make and accept new creative voices without a clear sense of where they fit or belong. We are obsessed with categorisation and organising moods to be easily absorbed. It is important to be curious and open to new ideas that may not have a clear place in a broader context just yet. Maybe we can make space for those things, celebrate our differences.

S: Back in 2017 you developed a collaborative performance work ‘Like Running Water’, which was performed at Melbourne Recital Centre as part of Melbourne International Arts Festival. Water and its natural embodiment of both, strength and softness, stillness and fluidity seem to be a reoccurring theme in your work. Tell us a little about your interest in water as a symbol of metamorphosis?

E: At the time of making ‘Like Running Water’ I had a real urge to try new things in my practice. The opportunity came to create something for Recital Centre Hall and I wanted it to celebrate some of the unique artists living and working in Melbourne/Naarm. The performance was centred around ideas of fluidity and strength. How we can adapt to changes around us and within ourselves. Working with an all female-identifying team was a real treat, it was one of the first experience like this I have had and was interesting to see the different dynamics of collaboration. This performance was a new beginning for me, a chance to write, perform and then record a series of songs and visual accompaniments.

In conversation with Ryan Downey

In the lead up to Ryan Downey’s performance in late October, our very own Suzie Wyllie caught up with the artist to chat about the ways and wonders of the man behind these unforgettable tunes.

Suzie: Before releasing ‘Running’ you released a mini EP of a cappella songs, did the experience of working that intimately with your voice inform the making of ‘Running’ in ways that surprised you?

Ryan: It did in a couple of different ways. I learnt a lot about my voice due to the fact that I was bending it in all sorts of directions I never had before and my voice became stronger in the process. And then, because the mini-LP had been so vocal-centric, I made the decision to keep backing vocals to an absolute minimum on Running to create a nice contrast between the projects and to keep things interesting for me. That decision also suited the character of all the songs on Running; they're very much about a single voice singing for connection.

Suzie: Your voice makes me think of resting my head on a lover’s chest, which is why I wasn’t surprised to read that ‘love’ is a central theme within this album. How did you go about avoiding the common clichés associated with love in song writing?

Ryan: I guess, like any song, I only carry on writing something if I feel I've got a fresh, or at least personal angle on the concept. So when writing about love I think it's important to identify what love (or the aspect of love you're exploring) means to you at that time. And then, never say anything in a song you wouldn't say to a person you love. If it'd be cliche to say it then don't sing it. That's if I'm trying to write a sincere love song. If I'm writing something more playful, then cliches can be great things to play off.

Suzie: It seems there is an elongation of time through the delivery of each of your songs. Is this a quality that you see in yourself and in how you move through life?

Ryan: Ha! I wish. No, life seems to slip by a lot faster. I do like playing with time in my songs, through tension holding and releasing. That's why I love music so much, it's one of the only means I've found to be able to do that and control that feeling of temporal suspension.

Suzie: Your film clips seem to balance a cinematic depth with playful romanticism, which compliments your lyrical style perfectly.  Can you tell us a little about your collaboration with director Alex Badham?

Ryan: Thankyou. Alex is a wonderful filmmaker and friend. I love working with him because though he usually comes up with his own concepts for people's videos, he's happy for me to bring ideas for clips to him and collaborate on them - It's the only chance I get to explore my love of cinema so I embrace the opportunity. He's very relaxed to work with and is always able to come up with easy, practical ways to capture things that seem difficult (or expensive) to capture. He's also got a great sense of visual pacing which I think is essential in creating a video that helps showcase the song itself.

Suzie: As you might not know, New Hall, where you will be playing for us in late October is a few streets away from the ocean. What five words come to mind when you think of the sea?

Ryan: I don't see it enough.

Making music and catching waves with Seagull, McKisko and Jessie. L. Warren

In the lead up to our mid-winter gig with these incredible artists, the man behind Little Lake Records, Nick Huggins caught up with Chris (Seagull), Helen (McKisko) and Jessie to chat all things music making and the surf of Point Lonsdale...

Helen, when we recorded the McKisko song ‘Mount Nebo’ (which is a mountain in Brisbane) we left the door of New Hall open to let the bird sounds in. How do the birds of Mount Nebo sound different to the birds in Point Lonsdale? 

My friend Phil lives on Nebo and grew up in Sale in Victoria. She could hear the difference in the birds immediately. The Point Lonsdale birds sound busier, chattier, seem to have more to say. The mountain birds sound more solitary, like they're just singing for themselves.

All three of you have made music with watery / oceanic themes, including collaborations with each other. Do you have ocean memories or inspired water moments that you would like to share?

The ocean features pretty heavily in my dreams, large bodies of water, waves. It supposedly indicates the emotional status. I also have this memory of being a child on a tourist boat from Lady Musgrave Island with my family. We had to leave the island early because a huge storm was coming. The waves were enormous and I was crying. The captain came over and assured me that there was nothing to worry about and that they only became concerned when the fire extinguisher fell off the wall. The fire extinguisher then fell off the wall. We made it, but I was sure it was the end of my tiny, seven year old life that day. I like the ocean. I am a little intimidated by the power of the deep deep.

I once worked out of the Byron Bay Lighthouse for a summer, counting dolphins and monitoring their behaviours. We'd set up at 6AM most mornings and just watch the ocean all day. I wrote a lot of songs about dolphins that year. 

One of my earliest memories of Pt Lonsdale is getting dumped by a wave on the back beach for the first time. I swirled around and swallowed some salt water. It was the first of many wipe outs. I think one thousand megalitres of water has crashed on my head at that beautiful beach.

Would you like to share a memory of being in Point Lonsdale?

I remember sitting on the rocks above Buckley's cave and watching the cool change come in.

Riding bikes along the beach path with Nick at high tide in stops and starts so as not to get washed away by the waves. And night riding up to the lighthouse under a gibbous moon. There were a couple of magical sunsets at the back beach too.

Spontaneously going surfing during the mastering session with Nick Huggins. I had not been on a board for eighteen years, it showed. I still can't lift my arms.  

Is there something about your work that people never ask you about, that you’d like people to know? 

JESSIE: People: "If you could collaborate with any musical collective in the world (dead or alive) who would it be?"
Me: "A pod of humpback whales."

CHRIS: I often write the initial guitar ideas while I'm watching TV. 

I don't really think about this, I guess that I'm always working on things. A quiet and slow chipping away.

NICK: Is there anything you think would be interesting or helpful to know for someone who hasn’t heard your music before? 

People sometimes cry. Sometimes I cry. I'm working on that.

It's best listened to in a dim room, better on a long train ride (Sydney to Newcastle would be ideal), but a bit too intense to listen to while in the bath. 

Trailing Reflections: Bellarine Arts Trail, New Hall

What a weekend. 

New Hall opened its doors to a diverse body of work presented by Lighthouse Arts Collective, to a community generous in their presence and engagement. For the Collective, this was the first time we had come together to share our work, in our new home.

Until this weekend, we had been working together to present work by individual members of the Collective, or artists we greatly admire – but this was the first time we were able to share our work, side by side, as a Collective. 

Each of us are embedded in diverse practices, working predominantly as independent artists, yet our works spoke to, and complimented, each other in ways surprising and fulfilling, adding intricate and interconnected layers to the concepts at play. 

One uniting feature was the way the sites, themes and colours of the place we call home came into the work in obvious and more subtle, nuanced ways. While place played a role in the work so too did the space. 

New Hall continues to transform, hosting diverse artistic experiences. A cinema one week, a live music venue the next and over the weekend sharing its glory in the light of day as an exhibition space, a space that keeps on giving. 

To the work held within New Hall: on entering the space, audiences were met with sound artist Ben Talbot-Dunn’s sonic installation, seamlessly transporting the viewer from the outside world and into the world of the exhibition. I enjoyed watching many linger here before being carried into the hall to meet the rest of the work. Talbot-Dunn created a moving atmosphere that gently enabled the viewer to move into a contemplative space with nuanced and layered sound. 

Once inside the hall viewers met the paintings and sculptural works of Suzie Wyllie. Wyllie moves effortlessly between forms to bring attention to fine details and the repetition of symbols featured in both paint and clay, calling to each other across the space. Wyllie interrogates themes of time, movement and mapping within motherhood in contrasting textures and concepts, delicate and weighted. There is literal and metaphorical room for interpretation within the work, seen within individual pieces and the body of work as a whole. Wyllie’s work will continue to interrogate these themes working towards a larger exhibition in collaboration with my own work early next year at New Hall. 

My work similarly (and dissimilarly) explored themes within early motherhood, grief and death. Working within literal and conceptual forms which are very new for me, the work explored impermanence, grief and resilience, placing process at the forefront of the work. 

Again, inside the main space, sound enabled the viewer to linger with the work and concepts at play. Nick Huggins played live within the space creating a dynamic that was both stirring and poignant. Drawing from the same body of work ‘No Wind Behind the Hill’ the sound and paintings spoke to one another in a language unique to the artist. Many people spent a significant amount of time here, floating upon the sound to other work in the space. The palette and depth of Huggins’ paintings ask you to look and look again, sharing something new in each viewing. 

And there you all were, looking and looking again. We were so moved by the generosity and presence of the community who engaged with our work across the weekend. How wonderful to witness an audience open and attentive, generous in both their presence and feedback. 

To those who lingered and visited again, who asked questions and shared their response to the work with words, stillness, tears, smiles and eyes exchanging experiences unspoken but felt – we thank you. For it is you, the audience who is the final and crucial ingredient in bringing our work to life. 

What a joy to open the doors of New Hall to share our work and have the community receive it in this way. Bravo Point Lonsdale and the Bellarine Peninsula, we look forward to sharing with you again very soon. 

If these walls could talk

“What we seek, at the deepest level, is inwardly to resemble, rather than physically to possess, the objects and places that touch us through their beauty” 

Alain De Botton, The Architecture Of Happiness

Is it possible that buildings and objects carry their experiences within the form and architecture of their being? If only walls could talk, to tell us of all they have seen. In our experience if you spend enough time in a space you start to hear and feel it’s history and learn also of it’s present desires. The Lighthouse Arts Collective heard such whispers on a quiet back street in Point Lonsdale. It’s requests were few but telling; a dusting down, a new coat of paint, unobstructed windows to let the light in and people. On Sunday evening we stood in New Hall, admiring its simple yet beautiful form, contemplating all it has seen and it’s desire to hold space for gathering and for communion; through music, poetry, art and performance, through conversation with one another. We feel and see the building joyous in being full of music, community and life. We were met with so many smiling faces coming through the doors and how inspiring that the front row consisted of the youngest members of our community. Chaotic and joyous they remind us there is no fourth wall and what a revelation it is to knock it down! As the night was in full swing we embody an overwhelming YES, from the building’s walls, from the vintage theatre lights, from the bodies young and old saying hello to each other and the possibilities of this space, to dance together. Lighthouse Arts Collective and New Hall are quite taken with the beginning of this new chapter and the exciting experiences to be added to the architecture of this humble space, oh what these walls might whisper now!