André
24 members found (show all)
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Andre Gascoigne
Australia
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André Gonçalves
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Andre Wenham
Australia
172 creative works found
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Well this is the shot that made it into the 2008 channel ten weather calendar, so I’m pretty proud of that.Getting this into the calendar was my first… ‘public’ recognition of my work so this is a pretty special shot to me. it is lightning over Adelaide looking down from Mount Osmond. It was taken in December 2006 and featured on the following nights news broadcast.
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André’s creation: eclectic pleasures
by Maxwell EdwardBlack and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words…
Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words. This jazzy rendezvous has always been André’s favourite ear-food. He just loves the way its beauty, splendour, radiance is ‘unleashed’. André stares at the canvas for over a dozen times. Here he is staring at the blank space which is future marvel…or was it to be past marvel? Had he missed his chance, missed the boat which would have sailed to sentimental stardom? He refuses to collaborate more than a sentence for any one idea. Any idea that deserves a sentence must deserve no doubt. Any canvas is only worth the greatest ideas. Two André’s exist; though only one at any one time. The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions. On rare occasions the other character may appear, the intensive, massively determined André who acts on impulses. Impulsive André must be begged out. A Pandora’s Box of surprises, his job will at least never cease to astonish. “Dearest André, Through years have you befriended my son Louis, so therefore I am offering an opportunity to benefit both of our interests (with intent towards your gain). Litton inc., my company has stepped up towards mainstream success. We require visual arts for our newly bought edifice. I understand you have been painting for the eight years since high school. To your discretion I would like to require a painting; just one will suffice. I would like something vibrant and colourful, yet deep and meaningful; Contemporise to your own vision. Much thanks, Dr. Raymond Fonck.” The commissioned paper lies stuck on the wall. André has read it. Now it is time for the future. It has been too long sitting around (or rather bouncing around); too get too much productivity from anything. Someone once said to him that anything is good experience. True perhaps, although he prefers productivity, especially in a time of intensity such as this; three days left until confrontation. His vigilant eyes stroll around the room, searching for advice. He is not bored, nor has he painters block, for such a term does not exist and will not ever for him. His eyes strike the clock. The clock glares 5:48 pm back. What a disgusting fierce look it has. Not 5:45, nor 6:00 and only one uncomfortable minute in-between. For at this time these uncomforting three digits add to the frustration in the actual time. “Aw!” André suddenly realizes the importance of the time. It is the one factor which never seems to be on his side but actually encourages his total progress. It is an epiphany like that of a mother to the newborn. André decides to let his hands take / control. They are the secret key, (sometimes the gatekeepers of unleashing impulsive André) His dominant left one picks up the brush (over time it has made up for its fault of statistically losing him seven years). His right hand decides to lose cognition. It dips itself into a little puddle of Sangria oil paint muck. Than it flies onto the near-centre of the canvas, smeared diagonally. His left hand takes initiative once again, waving lines of smudge to and fro. Right hand brings more paint to its destination. Myrtle, Indigo, Olive, Magnolia…and no, not that…Yes, yes, even black! (Well seal brown to be precise). All of these contextually beautiful colours unleashed! There are no thoughts in André’s mind now. This is impulsive André now; organised thought is of little importance! That colour is important here. This colour is unimportant there. A few lines of any colour are important right here or there, but perhaps a darker colour is better. More negative space up and down the edges. Shape is forming. Lines are bolding. Complete non-representational form is diminishing. Visualizations; the visualized images in mind are being…unloaded bit by bit. It is coming about. What is it though? No one knows. If anybody could guess it definitely would not be André. André knows he has the power to bring out the reality in it though. In a seemingly paradox situation he must not connect to reality at the moment though. Now, after these hours of painting, André is in the painting. He would not know it has been hours besides the constant glare of the illuminating digital clock staring from across the room; it unconsciously processes its recognition into André. The phone screams out, ‘br-ring, br-ring!’ Like the other external matter it creeps into André, until finally its screams become too annoying to ignore. It’s too late now…impulsive André has vanished; his conventional counterpart has replaced him. The phone persists though. André decides to take it (typical for his returned mannerism). He dives across the room horizontally attacking the corner where that nuisance phone lies. ‘Aw, aw, aw, aw!’ A tube of paint has squirt from underneath his stomach. Agonising that his material friend can be so painful at times (like any of his life long friends). He picks up the phone; only the tone. He has missed whatever, whoever it was. Once again, missing the boat… Now thought and all that comes with it has returned. Why now out of all times possible? There is only sadness, misery, all this escalated from these small miniscule misfortunes; all has turned to turmoil! What can one do, when feeling like crawling into a hole? His secret minor disorders such as his claustrophobia would prevent him from crawling into that hole, even if he had one. At the moment everything feels like one big hole. Not surprisingly André’s eyes begin doing the only thing they know to do in times of unrest; wander. It is impossible to ignore what is there; it has been there all along, yet has never been seen. It is beautiful! It is splendour! It is radiance!! It is interrupted by another scream of ‘br-ring br-ring’. André picks up the damn phone. Without contemplation he whispers, “Sir, madam, I’m very terribly busy, could you perhaps call back sometime?” A deep sophisticated voice replies, “Raymond Fonck, André. Listen, I need to know about the progress of the painting. How is it going; ready to sell on Friday?” Many emotions garner at the speed of light inside André allows these emotions to clash inside of him. The painting; it is beautiful, splendour, radiance! How could he give it away now, after an indescribable series of emotional contributions? It is something that has not been attempted before; yet it is new but the expression of old. It is everything, at the moment, hopefully containing more interpretive inoculations for the future. It is a subject, of just some time, yet it contains a collaboration of detail separated from time. It is…once again interrupted by screams, this time of another sort; the infuriating talking of man. “André. Are you there?” Feelings of great rebellion sweep André off his feet. He knows how he will revolutionize his life, because after all; this painting has revolutionized his thought already. “Mister Fonck. I am so sorry. Some things have come over me…a type of sickness…although I am sure you are not aware of this mad syndrome I am suffering due to it. Well to the point, I must say I will not be supplying you with your wanted artwork. Thank you for your understanding. Hopefully we can collaborate something in future.” André hangs the phone up without replies, without a stated understanding from the mister Fonck. Without even the knowledge of acceptance or approval from the mister Fonck…it does not matter. All that matters is this new painting, this contemporised vision. It is everything. Most importantly of all, it is…unleashed!
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Last Anzac day we had a fireworks show down at Brighton Jetty (on south austrlia’s western coast) just after the sun went down. Here’s what i came up with. / ps. ANZAC stands for Australia / New Zealand Army Corps, and we celebrate ANZAC day to remember all the fallen heroes in our country’s history.
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For tafe we had to find a studio portrait image and copy it as best as we could so that our images were as close as possible to identical. This is my resulting image… / her mum doesnt know about this shot yet :S
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Emily again (shes too gorgeous not to use as a model) in a small shoot where we had to attempt to copy other photographer’s portrait styles. This one is a copy of Jill Greenberg’s work.
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Another shot of my beautiful girl Helga. Some late night puddles in a carpark in norwood set the scene for this mini shoot. this is the complete other end of the spectrum from Helga 1
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This is one of my silver award winning prints from the 07 AIPP State awards. / I spent the week up in Surfer’s on the Gold coast – Hence no updates or nice comments for people. This is just one of the hundreds of photos i came up with – a simple pan of some of the hi-rise apartments. / The big pointy bugger is the Q1 building – the tallest residential building in the world.
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Acrylic on stretched canvas 460 X 460 mm / Copyright © SARA CATENA CLICK HERE TO MY WEBSITE
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Acrylic on stretched canvas 51 X 61 CM / Copyright © SARA CATENA www.saracatena.com CLICK HERE TO MY WEBSITE
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Just a quick photoshoot that i did today, learning about Contemporary Food photography. Light from the back, fill from the front!
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A picture of my girlfriend emily. Pretty much its the standard view i get of her, but i deserve it for teasing her so much.
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just a play around with long exposure and using a hand held flash. A 1976 Porsche 930 turbo.
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Last nights Sunset at Brighton Jetty, South Australia. 5sec at f22
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& Up jumped the boogie Model: D’Andre / Lighting: Dominic O’brien / Body Art & Styling: Alateia / Photography: Myself as well.
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Acrylic on stretched canvas 51 X 61 cm / Copyright © SARA CATENA / www.saracatena.com CLICK HERE TO MY WEBSITE
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Acrylic on stretched canvas 920 X 1220 CM / Copyright © SARA CATENA www.saracatena.com CLICK HERE TO MY WEBSITE
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GREAT WOMEN OF DIFFERENT CULTURES. / THIS BEAUTIFUL & SOULFUL PERSIAN WOMAN PLAYS THE TRADITIONAL / KAMANCHEH…..IN TOTAL CONTENTMENT AND GRACE. Acrylic on stretched canvas 100 X 100 CM / Copyright © SARA CATENA ORIGINAL PAINTING AVAILABLE TO PURCHASE $ 12750.00 AUD / @ www.saracatena.com CLICK HERE TO MY WEBSITE
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This is my other silver-print award winning image. Its just another simple panorama of Burleigh heads in QLD just after dusk.
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Just a quick snap i grabbed whilst trying to dodge falling raindrops yesterday. I was getting back in my car and saw the shot, and wanted to try it out with my new lens. I’m pretty happy / 1/125th at f4 : (400 iso) i think the smashed bugs on the front add ‘character’ Taken in the carpark behind ‘DK Fabrics’ on Port Road, Hindmarsh /
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