Of the now-42 creatives who have answered my five questions, I know Jen Hsieh quite well. We have exhibited together multiple times and Jen has been on the receiving end of my rookie questions: how to rig up works on a gallery hanging system; how to ace the corners of a hand-stretched canvas; how to keep a work from pitching forward off the gallery wall. She, and so many artists in the all-women's Inner West art collective we are part of, Wet Paint Collective, has given me a cobbled together but nonetheless very useful art education – on-the-job training, if you will.
Jen, a Canadian-Australian painter, loves the floral motifs of the country she now calls home, usually rendered in brilliant detail onto ethereally layered chiffon stretched in multiple layers over wooden stretcher bars. The effect is jaw dropping. Stretching canvases is hard enough but attempting this with something as frail and airy as a translucent textile? It's wizardly. Regardless of this, Jen is as plagued with self-doubt as any of us and confided in me that a recent work of hers wasn't giving her joy and she wasn't fond of it. The piece, in her home studio, was as gorgeous a landscape as I'd ever seen. Now that Jen has just won the Greenway Art Prize with this exact piece, I haven't been able to stop rubbing it in. Jen - seems I was right.
Jen Hsieh. Image: supplied
Jen Hsieh is the 42nd in my series of creatives to take five questions.
When my creative process is stuck, I reach for… shears, dark chocolate, and a bar of soap.
Good thing I have a garden that always needs pruning! I take the shears to it, channelling my frustration like Edward Scissorhands. The dark chocolate is my reward to stop before I decimate the whole garden. Then comes a long, hot shower. The zen sound of water and the rhythmic lathering of soap puts me in a near-meditative state, where my mind can wander and explore new, untethered ideas to "make it work".
The weirdest thing about being a creative human is... I tend to stare at things, almost as if I am in a trance.
What might seem like just a crumbled dry leaf on the ground is so much more to me – I see the edges curled in, the shadows showing the indentation and uneven surface, the shifting of colors from section to section, the crispy texture with broken bits, etc. In my mind I’m working out how I can capture the same feeling and texture on canvas with brush strokes and color. More importantly, I take a photo of it mentally and file it away for future usage. You never know when I might need a dried, crumbled leaf in my painting!
The most unusual object in my house is...
I have always been fascinated with the Middle East, more specifically the crucible of art and culture as a result of the Silk Road. For our honeymoon, hubby and I travelled to Syria – just four months before the Arab Spring and the tragic onset of the Syrian war. At the time, the Old City of Damascus blurred the line between reality and a dream from One Thousand and One Nights – moonlight on narrow cobblestone streets, jasmine climbing over ancient walls, smoke drifting from cafés, the sweet apple scent from water pipes, and laughter spilling out of nearby restaurants. And just like the storybook, we chanced upon an old shop the size of a closet selling odd bits and ends, none of real significance. But hanging on the wall was an antiquated large skeleton key with its bow made from intricately twisted iron.
I’ve always imagined that the key unlocks the door to a traditional old Damascene house – unassuming on the outside, but inside, a centre courtyard with flowing fountain, surrounded by intricate tile works and exotic florals.
The key not only holds memory of a fascinating place, but also dreams of places it might open.
I celebrate my achievements by... dancing an ugly, embarrassing, all-out jiggle, where limbs are flying everywhere. Truth be told, you can’t really call it a dance, but a demented jumping jack crossed with the Carlton dance. The uglier, the better. Of course, this is usually done when I’m alone and in the privacy of my home.
After winning the Greenway Art Prize, in addition to dancing, I treated myself to some amazing new paint brushes. Good paint brushes can cost an arm and a leg, but they are worth it and can last for a very long time – some of my brushes I’ve had for over 20 years! I have always believed that a good paint brush to a painter is like a fine violin to a violinist. We have intimate knowledge of the instrument, how it sings, and together we create beautiful art.
Something in the world that already exists that I wish I had created is... VR with 4D technology. I would love to bring to life far-off places, places that are not easily accessible, or where exposure could lead to further deterioration. With this technology, I want to make art and culture more accessible to the general public, while documenting and preserving these sites in their full context.
Imagine being able to walk through the old Aleppo souk*, experiencing it with all five senses. Or students on the other side of the world immersing themselves in an Indigenous Australian smoke ceremony in the Kimberley. Maybe even visiting a remote tribe deep in the Amazon to learn their way of life.
I wish I had, and I am dreaming big of the possibilities.
*Al Madina Souk in Aleppo is one of the oldest markets in the world and historically significant as a major trading post between the East and the West. Unfortunately much of the medieval buildings are badly burned and damaged from the war.
Find out more about Jen Hsieh on her website and follow her on Instagram Jen Hsieh (@jenhsieh.art) • Instagram photos and videos.
Selected works of the Greenway Art Prize are on show until 27 October at Art Est. Art School, 10 Hill Street, Leichhardt. Greenway Art Prize finalist works are available to acquire online: ART SHOP | 2024 GreenWay Art Prize.
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