Collection of Short Stories (ink on paper)

Collection of Short Stories
ink on paper
45 x 29.5cm

click to enlarge

This new drawing is an addition to the 'Interiors' division of my new Interiors/Exteriors (working title) series; investigating space indoors and outdoors, man-made vs nature, a sense of competitiveness; not sure at this time. Despite the meticulous mark-making this new work 'Collection of Short Stories' portrays a minimal still-life set-up that assumes the property and environment of a supposed owner; the presentation of the books illustrating the organisational habits of this unseen party. The liberty in providing this much detail provides the context to these 'Interior' works that are less subject to nature and have been purposely arranged to retain this composition for a period of time, thus providing the amount of time to sit night after night under artificial light and carefully render these objects with selected detail in a virtually undisturbed environment.

Artwork belonging to the 'Exteriors' division, being far more exposed to the elements and subject to nature's daily cycle (even just in terms of light) are much more fleeting, gestural and likely sketched as a foundation on paper for a final work or derived from brief studies made on the go.

Jim S

Three new landscapes by Jim Shirlaw (click to enlarge)

17.01.12
acrylic on paper
66 x 47.5 cm

29.12.11
acrylic on paper
69.5 x 43 cm

07.12.11 ('in that doorway' -g. reaper)
acrylic on paper
75 x 55 cm

Since being back home from overseas (new home/new studio) i've endeavored with my new found time to properly kick off some new directions with painting that i've been plotting for the last twelve months. These works tie in with the Interiors/Exteriors focus for the next little while, that whilst in a completely different style to their bright red acrylic/pastel cousins tie into the same movement at the moment to explore an abundance about nature and then a restrained, governed man-made environment with the Interiors.

In these early works the focus clashes between the man-made world (suited for Interiors) and the more expansive landscape gestures, the monochromatic use applies to the urban setting. Whilst first putting these ideas and divided aesthetics into play these works serve as initial studies borrowing from both sides of the Interiors/Exteriors investigation. As early work these paintings are pleasing enough.

Much much more to come,


- Jim S

Final Newport Commission

Untitled* Bilgola (?)

oil pastel and acrylic on paper
2012

click to enlarge*

Here lies the final installment in my Newport commissions from 2011. This last piece is my favourite. The work shows the best development with understanding and displaying natural light in this vision of the sea from Bilgola headland, eventually something reminiscent of Pointillism..?



- Jim S

Jim 'Poetry' Shirlaw 2011/12 (part II)

Actor's Outlook

Acts of courage during our life
later prepare us
for an easier deal with death

Reverberation

The guitarist’s sweeping maelstrom of reverb

Seemed,

To provide an infernal overlapping soundscape

For the fat-headed front man’s ego

to irresponsibly wander through

SHAG

suppliers of fine vintage clothing

The phone rings and my eyes reassemble their task of saying ‘No’. The male voice phoned up from a call centre and asked to speak to the owners. l told him that the owners live in Melbourne. The baritone hushed back, ‘well, what are you doing in the office, shagging?’ l asked what he said and he repeated it once more.

I asked the voice where he was calling from and he replied ‘your mother’s cunt’. Vaguely in the background, beyond the words, the routine sounds of a season-less morning stewed in the call centre.

‘what?’ l exclaimed, ‘your mother’s cunt’ he said, l hung up the telephone.

Sun (lack of) Poem I

Wild as they were,

Just as the sun revolves behind a cloud

So their time was received

Acts of courage during their lifetime

Prepared for an easier acceptance of death

And some day

The sun will return to fight us

Our greatest foe

For death must be as natural as life

To survive the process

Of taking that first rapid breath

Is to accept death’s quick taking

Sun Poem

The sun reaches

The amplitude of noon

Light like life from above

Solemn,

as the fixture on a basement ceiling

Appearing,

over the window frame

Eyes open with vague caution

Fearing immediate attack

Who won the war, mind or body

That knows such a feeling?

Death for twelve hours then awoken

By something the sun didn’t see

World of Skin

(or Swans)

What will skin see? That’s already harmed itself, let me harm it with ribbons of ink, driven to the arm; what tragedies will it endure? What fascinations will it see? What overcame you that morning, that your scars can’t forget?

That high-pitch still ringing in your ears, like a distant applause beyond the hillside. Where does the dirt beneath your nails exit? That you dragged out of the earth while scrambling, resisting your last disaster?

‘some things need to be endured’ (?)

‘the body never forgets’

Working title*

'They emerge unscathed to see
all nations are just like one
and to value their disingenuous fun
is liberty untouched,
even when available and free'

To see how each city persists
with it's legends of the past
i sit poised place after place
prepared to say
the people are so nice
the air is so clean
the weather is so fair
the metropolis is so,
gentle and forgiving

Once, the light beyond the door
pushed the hinges slightly
enough to hang a bright ticket
over my reaching tips
l spent whole days
celebrating how lucky l was

The olive green parcels
of eucalyptus, ash and earth
resigned to the emerald dialect
to peer into a grey mirror
the cold with no scent of snow
the sun swindled by noon
the student's hidden hash
the immigrant's wet passport
monochromatic and misleading

Just as the travel agent foresaw
alone in an ancient grey cafe
now clamer to the shore or breath
the ocean like wind, the temptation
to keep one of Europe's own cities
you don't speak just listen, nor return home

Jim S

Jim 'Poetry' Shirlaw 2011/12 (part I)

(enlarge, enlarge!)

One coffee in Two Hours

Entering the store, their eyes light up

Approaching the counter, they see the flyers and posters

Cradled under my arm, the anticipation in my eyes

The anticipation in their eyes

Dwindles with every step I take forward

Their hearts descend

Into wells of disappointment

As I left the café I heard muttered darkly;

‘One coffee in two hours’

Morning Star

When distressing whispers are heard

But no one else is around

All emotions gripped in frost

I stare up at that first love, faintly shrouded

I need to squint, only viewing a blurred edge

Who and what could she be now?

A wild hair-dress, a tangled silvery ecosystem

Orphan birds travel to nibble and breed in?

The syntax around her filled with a strange spilled speech

Reminiscent of her beloved Greek, having long forgotten English

Love Talk

Listen to the view

Inspiration was a gift but the course it set was folded between billowing clouds, and from a distance his crime was to say nothing.

But his heart was made of the finest ingredients, and from a distance it seems to say ‘untitled’

Women by that age reach that difficult threshold, when a man’s life obviously becomes filled with important professional criteria and their blind misguided findings of teenage love have worn off for the need of pure results.

I have your portrait next to me so i’m always sleeping by you, whether you like it or not.

What then? Just the simple wish that men drop everything in their lives and return to the teenage puppy-following, the heart-shaped eyes blindly skipping through the flower fields; oh if only things would stay that way forever?

Wild the were but just as the sun goes behind a cloud so their time was received.

My proud daughter

And while I’ve signed over to say, i’m your indiscriminate fan; your indiscriminate head shrunk to the size of your inconceivable hate begs for

It springs from a red glow above the tree line; like a witch-hunt rummaging beyond the town; flames licking the college doors

Indistinguishable pain to come

Two patches of damp skin, each behind an ear
Suddenly touched the morning air
At the release of my headphones
left hanging from my neck

The wind whistled over those shallow pools
remnants of my morning shower
An enlightening sensation followed
lifting my last steps onboard the scaffold.

Indistinguishable pain to come

I swore not to forget the words this last pleasure told me
the temperature and texture of wind against water
flesh gently painted with the ripples of the pulse
Rapidly submerged, by an angry crowd

Indiscreet Songs

(Abstract of Nature)

(Conspiracies Extinguished)

When the sun reaches the amplitude of noon, lighting solemnly waves from above like the fixture on a basement ceiling, above the window line, and only then do eyes open for the first time, feeling bruised.

Some day, the sun will come back to fight us and it will be our worst enemy, when a violent end stops only happening to a friend of a friend.

Who won the war, mind or body to create such a forsaken feeling upon waking; the feeling of having being dead for nine hours then awoken by something they didn’t

No fear for Death; must be as natural as life. To survive the process before taking that first breath, is to accept Death’s quick taking.

Sex Poem #46

'... the light of love was in your eyes'

Ruffled beyond recognition in a Berlin hotel room,
my words, the whittled desk lamp tells me
have become so boring, that they're not worth
five seconds to read.

I don't remember arriving home but must have
been wary of the smell. After some unsteady removal
that night (your clothes never wholly discarded)
we kissed by the light of your laptop,
we danced to the narration of South Park

Common, that the sensitivity to so much flesh calls
for little light. I caught what l could
when a bright snowfield touched the screen.
Your ample breasts wore a youthful pout,
the skeleton protruded, exploring
where any lie could hide

Your teeth looked on in wonder, a tiny glow giving them eyes.
The Empire State Building looked on from afar.

Your petite frame wrapped in sheet's teaching
inspired such miracles and a yearn for protection.
The heart tumbled and lust exhaled,
above the call of a cathedral organ.

Just as we'd kissed in parks before, l reached
into the hall of your throat, chasing an ominous tail
of pleasure l couldn't call by name. Pushing myself
deep inside you, a desperate attempt to make
two ends meet repeated with every second.

My left hand wrapped around your right wrist
while my right curled like a python
biting your ass with enough vigor to leave
it's dental records the following day,
recounting every thrust of the attack.

Your clitoris was witness
to the engine of blood flow,
teasing a row of pins
jeweled with teeth


#46 reprise

A tempting offer,
I can see my circumstances now.
Chained to the turning arm of a winch,
pushing all day and night alongside a donkey
following suit.

A bucket hangs from my neck
catching precious blood and tears falling
in the effort to grind corn, the desperation
to keep my Visa buoyant.

From time to time you pass
the creaking slots in the timber
my ceiling, your flooring.
Guests know of no workshop below,
only the wondrous refined flour, famous for
it's shade of bright coral
due to the master's blood spilling toil

Could l be sponsored to operate this grisly machine?
Could l return to the Jane Hotel on Thursday evenings
to party with my fellow 'flour monkeys'?

This silent monologue raises it's finger gently to your lips.
Please don't worry, i'll always be at your mercy.
If ploughing is my duty, l will attend
to my 'cash-in-hand' job for as long
and with all the vigor you demand

My experience so far
sewing that fresh field with seeds
begs to be hired overtime.
Before the harvest floats
down the inside of your thigh
for the final time this night abides.

- Jim S

Two Recent Drawings About Love (click to enlarge)

Jim S.
2012

GRANDIOSE: Lakes of Switzerland

2012

(click on image for grandiose)

Jim S

London + learning how to only love once

Should you only learn to love once

you'll never forget how
that scoldering sensation
never surfaced again

I can't feel the difference
having an erection or near-crying

Jim S.

NYC

My time is New York was tremendous, wholly inspiring and as the first destination l landed in after leaving home, caught me with all my energy and proved to knock me flat and be utterly overwhelming! Lots of images on this post so they can do the talking but i've got to say NYC is incredibly straight these days and seems to really be governed with an iron fist; don't watch Taxi Driver and Midnight Cowboy and the plane over and expect to find the same place upon arrival. The buzz they talk about though.. still exists!

Enjoy,


Jim S