ART AUCTION! A collection of styles and genres, linked by my need to express something at the time. If I was being posh, I’d call it a retrospective.
You’ll find the galleries at https://jenimcmillanart.wordpress.com
This is my brilliant idea to send works out into the world before I go. I’m on my way to Europe for a year so I’m packing up my life.
The process is still fluid. You can bid over 3 days from 16h (AEST) on June 1 until closing at 20h (AEST) on June 3rd. I’ll be at my computer, responding to bids and offering any information that you need. I’ll keep a reserve price on some but who knows what bargains will come up?
You can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
or message me via my Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/muesli.muncher
and feel free to comment here on the blog!
The sizes are below each image in the galleries but if you need a work posted/couriered, please ask for the weight as it’s a consideration, especially for overseas posting (I think that the canvas can be taken off the stretcher and rolled up for overseas.) Organising postage/courier is up to you.
I appreciate everyone who loves a work enough to make an offer. In case you’re wondering where to start, the larger works in the French series and the Athens series will have a reserve. I know this is a scary business but it’s also exciting. I hope these paintings and a few random ceramics will finds good homes but I also understand that we all have different tastes and aesthetics so I’m fine if you don’t like the work or can’t afford to bid.
PM me if you need to come by and look at the work beforehand and once the auction is finalised I’ll contact the best bidders. I leave on June 19 for a year so I’m up to my armpits in organising, packing, storing and spending lovely final moments with wonderful friends … so your help and understanding is greatly appreciated.
I have no idea if the French Consulate will approve my long-stay visa, apart from an inkling that the rendezvous was positive. In a reckless sort of way, I’ve been preparing to leave anyway. At least for three months. If my application pleases the administration I’m off for a year, with the option to renew. Holy shit! there’s a mountain of ends to tie off.
Being a visual artist is heart-poundingly beautiful. I spend my days soaking up images then pouring my passion onto canvas, computers and sketchbooks. I get to run around in the forest, chase clouds down the coast and occasionally throw my clothes to the wind. But there are some drawbacks. Stuff. The walls are disappearing behind mountains of artwork. Fortunately my housemates are tolerant.
I was dreaming up possibilities for art shows when there was a loud knock at the door. I assumed it was another parcel for New Housemate but the floppy plastic envelope looked oddly familiar. It was only a week since my interview in Sydney and I expected to wait two months. Was this a quick refusal or the long-awaited ticket to Europe? I opened it up… and I haven’t stopped smiling!
PS I really do need to move my paintings. Stay tuned.
It was a good photoshoot. We hid the torn denim shorts that I thought were cool. Francesca, like so many women, preferred to keep her thighs under wraps. I believe that I nailed her vanity, her insecurity and her strength. This friendship was uniquely ours. Not to be repeated or understood. We came from very different backgrounds. Me, the wild Aussie girl. She, the American lost in France. We painted our world with ambition. Shared artistic passion was our glue. It didn’t make sense when Francesca wrote from her hospital bed. It didn’t make sense when she died. I only knew her full of life.
There’s a summer happening here, in realtime. Greece can wait. The UV is burning and the capital is empty. Everyone has fled the work ethic and dived into coastal holiday mode. I’ve had my share of joyous outpourings and returned to pluck at my canvas. Ah the music is sweet! But first I dropped into a moment of intense solitude, meeting New Year’s Eve with a sober stare and a promise of hanging out another time. I needed to think. Then I dropped into depression. I needed to process. On the third day I rose from these dreamless depths with curiosity. The world still existed post Donald Trump. It was bright and somewhat magical. Politics excepted.
And here I find Paradise, nesting as omnipotent eyes in a fugitive’s crown. I am one with the Goddess for she dances regardless of time grasping beneath her feet.
The sun flails my flesh with his ardor. I know nothing of time. I balance between two worlds, willingly giving myself to the salt on his breath.
There is tenderness in the ruins. I know the story before it unfolds but I have nowhere to go but trace the heartless path with my ink.