Eco-friendly alternatives to traditional art materials
How can we as artists still engage as freely as possible in our passion without compromising the health of the environment around us? After all, the status of its health directly equates to our own personal health and that of the wider community, so it’s in our best interests to look after it!
Unfortunately, though, over time we have become so far removed from this notion that disposable paint palettes and mass-produced paint brushes, paints containing VOCs (Volatile Organic Compounds), and unsustainably produced canvases have become the norm… It’s a conversation that I bring into all of my workshops with community members and a mindful practice to which I am committed.
That being said, of course, there are still items in my tool kit that have been gathered over the years or generously donated to me which represent the opposite value, bringing to mind the debate of how much control we really have as consumers in a society that favours fast materialism… Indeed, none of us are perfect.
However, as time goes by, the potency of these conversations on a global scale is gaining traction and more sustainably and ethically made options for art materials are appearing.
To contribute to this optimistic flow from my own tiny neck of the woods, I’m offering more eco-friendly alternatives in my workshops to traditional canvas, in the form of recycled cloth and paper. Over the coming months, I will also be replenishing my art supplies with choices that are only made sustainably and ethically.
My take on Expressive Arts
Children are inherently creative; in fact, they are natural artists. The challenge is to nurture this unique sense into adulthood so that it might help us to be resilient in this wild world.
Too often we forget how to play! And with that loss comes a lack of opportunity to practice our behaviour where consequences are merely make-believe, and soon, we lose touch with the innate confidence of knowing that we can figure things out.
Approaching the Arts in a collaborative and expressive way - whether as children or adults - allows us to get rid of prescriptive ideas which can lead to a prejudiced mentality and struggles with idealism. When intimidated by ‘a blank canvas’, the method I often use to open the creative mind is: throw on the paint and see what happens… With a bit of practice, we can learn to trust our hands, bodies, voices, and our brains - after all, we knew what to do when we were five!
By remaining inquisitive to the process, we can remove the pressure of having to create exactly what we had imagined, and instead, we see that the creative process - as in life - takes on many unexpected twists and turns. In the end, we arrive at a completely unforeseen destination but can find beauty and meaning in that too. More often than not, the result communicates something to us that we needed to learn all along…
I encourage my participants to let their inner child come to the surface; to play and get messy, to move and shake it off, to sing it out, or journal to the heart’s content. The therapeutic value of this method is that we can focus on feeling, gaining a deeper understanding of our intuition and interpretation, in turn improving self-esteem and nurturing resilience.
With time, we can foster a positive sense of solitude in the Arts and adjust our ways of thinking to help us cope with the world around us.
To learn more, please reach out here to arrange a discovery call.
'Art in Chaos' : Youth Art Exhibition in Gladstone
An Exhibition of Expressive Artwork by the Youth of Gladstone
“Creative people are curious, flexible, persistent, and independent with a tremendous spirit of adventure and a love of play.”
Over 100 years have gone by since Matisse and his fellow creatives were recognised by a famous art critic as "fauves", or wild beasts. Their avant-garde approach to colour and composition which aimed to enhance their work’s emotional power yielded at first a severely negative reaction.
Expressionists too, who distorted the image of reality to instead depict the inner experience of thoughts and feelings, were a radical shift away from the neoclassical and realist styles of the 18th and early 19th centuries.
Nevertheless, these creative developments have since become significant landmarks in the history of art, and they continue to inspire us today.
‘Art in Chaos’ Exhibition runs until 24th September 2021
We now recognise that there is immense therapeutic value in playing with bright, bold colour like the fauvists, and revealing our inner experience in unrealistic and often abstract ways like the expressionists. The potency of such methods can aid in recovery from traumatic events and help us to cope with everyday life.
The creative output is also powerful, not only for the artist who builds resilience and self-esteem but for the viewer too. Just as the fauves intended, sharing artwork can evoke an emotional response in the viewer, stimulating healing and acting as a catalyst for their own inspiriation.
These approaches also have the power to normalise the dialogue of mental health and wellbeing via creative means.
Perhaps we are all wild beasts, and that’s okay...
In the wider, current climate, the ability to be creative is more valuable than ever. Younger generations are now forced to find solutions that allow humanity to live in harmony with our ever-changing and more turbulent environment.
Developing the creative brain through expressive art is therefore a skill that will serve our young people throughout their lives.
The paintings in this exhibition are only a handful of expressive artworks created by the youth of Gladstone, with whom I’ve worked for the last ten months. What strikes me most is the focus on nature, its creatures, and the universe. Isn’t it clear what they value most?
Many thanks to the community at the ARTmatters Gallery for their enthusiastic support in this endeavour.
Commissioning artwork
Thank you for your interest in owning a bespoke piece of artwork!
It’s a pretty cool idea, isn’t it? Having a unique piece of art in your home that was designed and created especially for YOU!
But I also understand that requesting a commission can seem risky. ‘What if I hate it?!’ ‘What if it doesn’t speak to me?’
I get it. It’s daunting, and naturally, I’ll need you to have a little bit of faith in my style and creative approach…
So, if you haven’t already had a good rummage around, please have a look at my paintings and sculpture projects to make sure you know what I’m all about!
Beginning a painting is loose, expressive, and always involves plenty of colour!
If you’re still here and you like what you see, then read on to hear about the commission procedure that I've developed to help us both feel comfortable during the development phase.
The first step in the commission process would be to organise a meeting, either in person or on a call. We’ll discuss which pieces or elements of my artwork you like, and chat about what kind of colour palette, size, artistic medium, and time frame you're hoping for.
This discussion will be documented then sent to you thereafter by email, accompanied by initial sketches. This Commission Agreement will also outline the price, the proposed timeline, and some terms and conditions around early termination circumstances, rush fees, online imagery reproduction, and Transfer of Copyright.
Once you're happy with the above information, you can sign the agreement and make a deposit of 50% of the commission total cost, then I'll get to work on your very own piece of original art!
Images will be sent to you of the work in progress after each development session, where there will be a chance to have further discussion about the direction of the work. Any major changes to the initial outline or further work to the piece after completion may incur an additional cost, which will be agreed upon in writing before the commission is delivered.
‘Man in the Mountain,’ Acrylic on Canvas, 60 x 50cm, 2020
Payment will be made in full on receipt of images of the completed commission, and ownership of the piece will pass to you on delivery.
A "Certificate of Authenticity" will also be provided to you as a PDF file as proof and documentation of original work.
Please note that I reserve the right to refuse a commission request, and cancel a commission or commission request due to poor communication, rude/inappropriate behaviour, or a breach of the Terms of Service as outlined in the Commission Agreement.
If this all sounds as clear as mud and you’d like to go ahead in requesting a commission, please contact me here to chat further!
Packing a painting
If you’ve never purchased a painting before, then understandably you may be a bit nervous about whether the artwork will arrive at your door in one piece.
Imagining all of the hands your beloved painting will pass through - let alone the conveyor belts and luggage carts it might be thrown onto - can leave you in a dizzy, empty-walled spin!
Well, there is certainly always an element of risk, and with all of my fingers crossed, it’s a miracle I can still paint!
But fear not, for the Australian postal service hasn’t let me down yet!
So far, I’ve shipped paintings to Canada, the UK, and France, and they’ve all arrived safely in one piece.
Plus, I picked up a few handy tips for safe and secure packing when I was working at a fine art gallery in Scotland, many moons ago.
The painting ‘Autumn Leaves’ packaged and ready to ship to France!
First off, I use recycled materials as much as I can. So thank you in advance for your understanding if your painting arrives in an old furniture/wine/toilet roll box!
Next, BUBBLE WRAP. Now, this is a key element to packing!
Your painting will be packaged with layers of the stuff to take the brunt of any less than dainty handlers. And it will be placed ‘bubbles up’ to prevent marking the canvas.
Of course, ideally, we’d live in a world without plastic, but seeing as it’s already here, I try to reuse and recycle those bubbles as many times as possible.
And I’d encourage you to do the same! Please consider recycling the bubble wrap that comes with your painting for any of the following activities: sending a gift to a mate, wrapping up your granny’s precious glassware for a house move, an abstract painting tool (of course), or some good old-fashioned stress relief.
Once the paintings are wrapped, sheets of cardboard are placed on top of the painting to prevent punctures.
If you’re an avid art collector of mine and are purchasing more than one painting, then I CAN’T THANK YOU ENOUGH. Your bubble-wrapped paintings will be separated by more cardboard, and then taped together to keep them securely in place during transit.
I hope this helps to put your mind at ease, but if you have any further questions about packaging, then please feel free to get in touch!
Sacrifice: A Poem
Sacrifice, by Jen Hollstein
Written for a photography project by William Debois
In memory of my ancestors, especially my Grandmother Val who loved to write poetry
Sacrifice, by Jen Hollstein
Written for a photography project by William Debois
In memory of my ancestors, especially my Grandmother Val who loved to write poetry
15,780 kilometres,
Plus or minus a few.
That’s how far away I am
From the place where as a child I grew.
Far from the heather on the moss,
The gowans and the gorse.
Far from our beloved hill Bennachie,
Our dialect Doric, similar to Norse.
Far from butteries, cullen skink, and salmon,
Cups of tea and a blether with mum.
Far from the mighty Scots pine and Douglas fir,
Transformed here to palm and gum.
Far from Nessie, and the bonnie stag,
The red squirrel, and the heelan’ coo.
My current neighbours on this Byellee land
Are the goanna, the snake, and the roo.
Some things here aren’t too culturally distant,
For example, stoicism, barbecues, and the scrum.
But when my eyes go wide hearing ocker,
It seems that I’m an alien to some.
So what does it mean to me? Sacrifice;
To give something up in return for another...
Losing the dreich weather, the ice, and bagpipes,
Well, for me, that’s really not a bother.
But what I would give to be able to teleport,
And laugh with my father, my mother, and brother.
Who knows how long I’ll have to wait?
Hopefully, I’ll see them next summer…
And in the meantime, I give my thanks
For the lessons that I’ve been taught,
Because now I know that paradise
Is only inside, not bought.
Working on the Great Barrier Reef
It's every divers dream to reach the Great Barrier Reef, and when I finally got there it did not disappoint. Sharks on almost every dive, green turtles as big as me, and a plethora of corals and sponges that blew my knowledge of Caribbean species out of the water!
My first position on the GBR was as a private guide on the Agincourt Reef complex east of Cape Tribulation in Far North Queensland. In this role, I was given a camera to record the dives for our guests, which also gave me the opportunity to play around with underwater photography.
In my second position as a research diver working in the Capricorn Bunkers of the southern GBR, off the coast of Central Queensland, I was part of a team monitoring and culling the invasive Crown-of-Thorns starfish. COTS, as they are referred to, are devastating the reef by eating coral polyps. Without enough natural predators like the Triton Snail, COTS numbers have gone out of control, so divers have been tackling the problem by injecting them with acetic acid (a slightly higher concentration than your average household vinegar). Within days, the injected COTS dissolve and the corals can resume growing and fighting their own battles with higher water temperatures and ocean acidification.
Being able to use my skills to contribute to marine conservation in this region was a natural progression from the work I was doing in the Caribbean, and this project fulfilled my aims as a professional diver.
There are endless creatures to discover down there in the deep blue wonderland. Click here to go on a virtual dive!
Working in Bacalar Chico Marine Reserve, Belize
Towards the end of 2018, I travelled to Belize in Central America to run expeditions with the NGO Blue Ventures who aim to rebuild fisheries by sustaining locally led marine conservation. Living in the heart of the Bacalar Chico Marine Reserve in the north of the country felt isolated. Very little phone service, no internet, and a three-hour round trip on a small boat to the nearest town to pick up supplies once a week. Our only visitors were our ranger friends from the fisheries department, pictured here with big grins, and groups of patrolling coastguard who would trudge for hours through the jungle minimizing drug trafficking activities in this alleyway between South and North America. They shared stories in English, Spanish and Kriol of encountering crocodiles and wild pigs, pirates killing their family members, and chasing the Mexican fishermen back across the border.
Asides from these occasional visits, the evolving group of staff and volunteers would live as a small community in nature for month-long stints. Our lifestyle was simple and barefoot. We went diving as soon as the sun came up before breakfast, culling the invasive and destructive lionfish, and surveying the coral and fish species, and would fall asleep just after the sun went down. On the windy days, when the monstrous waves made the passage beyond the reef too dangerous, we cleaned the camp, played volleyball, built huts, painted murals, and recycled waste into decorations. We lived alongside iguanas, snakes, scorpions, woodpeckers, mice that lived inside the mattresses, a family of trash bandits, otherwise known as raccoons, and Ritz - a tiny bat that hung above my bunk.
Our only other visitor came from the sea, in great waves of garbage that rolled onto the beach day after day, destroying the mangrove habitat and suffocating the fish and birdlife. Leaning over a thousand times to pick out toothbrushes, bottle caps, and syringes from the seaweed was a sobering reminder that we were not actually isolated at all. Due to the ocean currents, Belize was receiving a lot of waste from the rest of the Caribbean, evidenced by Caribbean soda brands such as Boom and Ting. When coupled with such magnificent moments like a manatee swimming around you on a dive, and dolphins and dolphin-sized tarpon feeding at the end of the crumbling dock, it’s hard not to let the heaviness of the reality bring you down. Perhaps when you need it the most, things come along that give you the courage to keep going.
After months of back-breaking work, one of our boat captains found a wooden plaque among the garbage, which had a message written on it in Spanish. It spoke of a marine conservation NGO in the Bay islands of Honduras over three hundred kilometres away, where I had begun my travels over ten years before. They asked the finders to report when and where the plaques were collected, so the group could learn more about the cycles of marine waste. It’s necessary to keep in mind moments like these to feel encouraged. There are many people out there who are also fighting to save the ocean. It’s also imperative that we have these brutally honest conversations about the environment, and find ways to improve our behaviours so that we may live in harmony with nature instead of destroying it.
A whale in Zanzibar
One of our Zanzibari boat captains had six toes on each foot. He was a respected elder in the Tanzanian island village and had three wives and eight children. Driving a traditional dhow which had been turned into a dive boat, he told me stories of haunted reefs, islands of cannibal communities, and historical massacres of dolphins. ‘Don’t go to the fish market today,’ he would warn me. ‘Many pregnant manta rays there today.’
As one of the oldest men in the village, he had seen the change in the seas and understood the importance of establishing protected marine parks to ensure a future of sustainable fishing. He also saw that tourists wanted to pay money to see marine megafauna, so conservation was a more lucrative option too. I pleaded to him for months - ‘When will I get to see a whale?’ - and he kept replying, ‘Soon, soon.’
Then, one evening, as I was walking home along the beach, I heard him shouting my name from afar - ‘JenEEfa! JenEEfa! A whale!’ I turned to see him pointing towards the horizon, and there, beyond the reef, an enormous beast was breaching onto its back, sending huge sprays of water into the sky.
Anthropology in Gozo
As an Anthropology student at University, I learned about a fieldschool project operating on Gozo - Malta’s sister island in the Mediterranean. Feeling rather shy and suddenly having no idea how to start a conversation, I began my fieldwork journey in 2009 sitting by the water’s edge, writing lists of potential study topics. Music, food, language…
Day by day, I tried to talk with people in the villages about these themes, but I didn’t feel like I was generating anything useful. I’d return to Xlendi bay to swim, and would duck beneath the surface to marvel at the octopus. My mentors helped me to realise that I was already in my fieldwork site, and that the locals I engaged with in diving competitions and dealing with jellyfish had become my informants.
Over several summers until 2015, I returned to the project to mentor new students in this often awkward but fascinating process, and continued my research in the local use of public, coastal space and the act of tixxowja - showing off.
Engaging with ethnographic photography as a research method helped me learn to be still and notice the details, while also connecting with local people by sharing portraits. At the weekend, we’d join our new friends at the summer festas, and stay up till the early hours to watch the beloved Maltese fireworks as they blew up along the street.
Wandering through Gran Canaria
I stayed with a local family who lived in a traditional cave dwelling about an hours walk up a rocky, dry stream off the tiny village road. The family were practicing permaculture, and with the exception of buying oats, they lived entirely off the grid. (At the time in 2015, their first crop of oat seedlings had just popped through the soil!)
They spoke to me about the importance of creating a food forest for their child, who they believed would always be rich because of this place. While they walked the child to school one morning (a two hour round trip), I had the most fun photographing their plants, roosters and goats, and then in the afternoon, I helped the father to prune their fruit trees.
I can’t deny that I was freezing and a bit spooked by sleeping in the ‘guest cave’ further up the hill, which was as barebones as the word ‘cave’ suggests, but the trip was special for me as my first solo adventure in a few years.
Engaging with permaculture concepts and cultures opened my eyes to the necessity of sustainable living, and inspired me with great ideas for my own sustainable future.