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Solo exhibition at Carmel

On Saturday, 10 October at 5:30 p.m., my one-man-show opens at Camel Art Gallery in the Constantia Village Shopping Centre, and you are invited!

And for those who can't get there on the day, all the work on exhibition can be seen on the website of Carmel Art, here.

I look forward to seeing you all again!

Come up and see my etchings

Who was it that used the immortal words, "Come up and see my etchings sometime..." with its delightful innuendo and wickedness?

And who hasn't dreamed of saying it one day?

Last month I learned some of the delicious secrets of etching, and I love it. The alchemy of turning base metals into gold...

So please, come up and see my etchings sometime.

Lucid dreaming

Imagination is a form of dreaming, and working from imagination taps into this dream state.

If we go with our imagination we have no control over the subject matter; all we can do is to watch it. In a lucid dream we become aware that we are dreaming, and often we can change the dream, somewhat like directing a movie. It is as if our waking consciousness directs the subconsciousness.

In lucid waking it is the dreamer who becomes aware that we are awake, and that as in a dream, we can influence the flow of reality.

We imagine, often vaguely, some sense of place, some sense of light, and by allowing the dream consciousness into our thought process, we can observe the gradual unfolding of the scene. It is a process of accepting, not directing. When we try to paint an imagined scene, we have to wait for it to reveal itself, often in blurred silhouettes. The trick is to welcome the mystery and to enter into it. In a painting it can often take months for a figure to resolve itself. Patience, and a sense of joy are called for. We can no more choose the subjects of our imagination than we can choose our dreams.

This, in the end, is the aim and end of art, to enter, half-conscious, into the perfection of the grace of nature; to dwell there, and sometimes, sometimes, to celebrate its joys.

Focke-Wulf FW-190

I was little more than a boy. In 1964, after doing guard duty at Central Flying School at Dunottar, night after endless night, I started to explore.

Inside one of the hangars I discovered a treasure of mythical proportions. By the light of my torch, I made out the grey camouflage shapes of several Second World War aircraft. Moving my torch from side to side in the cavernous hangar, I passed the shark-like fuselage of a Messerschmidt 262, suspended from its swept-back wings, two predatory jet engines, poised inches from the ground.

In the gloom beyond I saw a monster, hulking in the dark: a Focke-Wulf FW-190.

In my memory it is painted a dark blue. On its wing, in German, warnings about where to place your feet as you get into the cockpit. The seat was hardened steel, without a parachute to sit on, very low, but for me, just right. The bubble canopy slid forward smoothly, and in the dark, the controls came to hand naturally. My greatest concern was not to touch anything that could start. Uh, when were ejector seats invented?

I must have been the only airman who looked forward to guard duty. Like Snoopy atop his kennel, night after night, I flew the night skies of Europe and of Africa.

Last month, in Johannesburg, I went to the War Museum, and there it was, polished, cleaned, sterilized, my old friend, the Focke-Wulf, and by her side, the Messerschmidt 262. It was a bittersweet reunion, like finding a tiger you once knew, in a zoo.

Website

http://artistvision.org/

Ryno Swart Exhibition, Carmel Gallery, Constantia, 10 October until 19 October.

For details on workshops and classes in Cape Town and Europe, click here

The art of Ryno Swart