Rachel Hannan | Dancing Isopages and Flannels | SOLD

Dancing Isopages and Flannels | 2021
153 x 122 cm
Oil on canvas

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Rachel Hannan

I have a connection to the landscape indescribable in words, but that I touch on through paint: the space between the stillness and the tearing winds; the ever changing relationship between forms and dancing light; the gap between what you see and what is actually there; the music of the colours that have no sound, the rhythm and energy of the elements that can't be stopped, won't be harnessed, can't be known. The landscape is passion, unpredictability, life, birth, sex, death; dangerous and harsh, yet comforting in its realness. It leaves me with the wonder of how to exist in such vast unkempt beauty.

I move through the landscape with reverence and respect. It is never the same, every moment perfect and fleeting, impossible to portray but exciting to try. I recently started exploring clay as a tangible representation of the ground, rock and flora. Playing directly with the earth feeds back into my paintings. There is a symbiosis that occurs in my studio as the 2D representational works combine with the organic 3D shapes that grow there, sharing lines, layers, forms and colours.

Being in the landscape is like being in love. I am drawn to its power, glory and terror, in the hope that I can hold it forever, but it won't be captured. It's a wild thing. This is what I try to recreate in my paintings; the exhilaration of uncertainty and surprise, the freedom of the unknown.

Light is an easy to read font, with tall and narrow letters, that works well on almost every site.

I am lucky to have come from a family of sailors on one side, and farmers on the other. I grew up in Newcastle, NSW and spent much of my time immersing myself in the natural beauty and the exhilarating unpredictability of the ocean and the land. I remember being lifted by the power of a wave one moment, then being pummelled in the sand by a dumper, rising sandy and dazed, but excited by the power that overtook me seemingly out of nowhere. I remember exploring bush and quarries, old train tracks and creeks on horseback, alone and free, with no time constraints or expectations. The land and sea offered me limitless scope for dreaming, imagining, meditation and play. I welcomed dramatic changes in weather - tearing winds that made sailing wet and scary, pouring rain that made horse riding slippery and dangerous.

In 1994, pregnant with my first child, I found myself in the Blue Mountains, NSW. The endless, cavernous blue horizons reminded me of the mesmerizing undulations of the ocean - an uninterrupted sea of bluegreen with no end in sight. The vastness and grandiosity was something familiar and comforting, and I knew it would be my home.

This fascination with the natural physical environment has endured for the 27 years that I have lived in the mountains. The extremes of the weather and ability to be lost within an hour of walking away from civilization entice me further and further into the unknown depths of the bush.

The mountains are perched ideally on a high strip 1000 metres above sea level with the ocean to the east, and the gradually reddening soil to the west. There is a pull from out there where the land broadens out and the skies expand, a different kind of harshness and unkempt beauty, open and exposed. This land will always offer me inspiration and solace, a place where I can truly be alone, but connected to the energy and the life of the place where I belong.

I search out landscapes that thrill me. Walking, scrambling, running, canoeing, biking, driving; I love the anticipation of the surprise that may await me around each bend. I love vastness and intimacy, dramatic cliffs and simplistic plains - wherever exists an energy, some rhythm, a breeze, a storm, some inviting movement. The interplay of active skies and static forms, and the surfaces that dance in between create a tension that I like to draw out. I try to bring the elation and ecstasy that I feel in the landscape back to my studio, reliving and forming it into a painting with loose painterly strokes and layers.

Music and art are inseparable for me. Having been a professional singer for over 30 years, music imbues everything I do. In the landscape and in my paintings, I hear melodies in the unpredictability of forms, colour and movement. I feel the rhythms of the repetition and patterns in the natural architecture and the never ending abundance of different flora, water, clouds and surfaces. I bring the visual into my improvising when I sing, and similarly the music flows through my brush when I apply my marks.