Welcome to a vibrant corner of art blogs Australia, where creativity meets conversation. Join Danielle B Latta, a seasoned artist with a passion for storytelling, as she unveils the world of art through her unique lens.
A wander through the Venice Biennale’s Giardini, from a folded gold ribbon and a piano under a rippling ceiling to feathered figures in a colonnade, plus the 1907 story of how nations came to build permanent pavilions here.
Ten minutes from the queue at St Marks, in a Benedictine church off the tourist route, the exiled Belarus Free Theatre have built the loudest thing I have seen at this Biennale.
Before the Biennale crowds arrive, a dawn walk to the Arsenale, once the largest shipyard in pre-industrial Europe, where revealing a shipbuilding secret meant execution. Now filled with contemporary art instead of warships.
The walk to the Biennale, not the Biennale. A mask maker s bench with forty open pots of paint on it, a gondola holding perfectly still, and a calle you could touch both sides of.
Before the Venice Biennale crowds and heat arrive, one early riser crosses from Mestre to Dorsoduro at first light, finding empty canals, leaning campaniles and a Grand Canal all to himself.
An artist crossing Italy by train skips the Duomo and Last Supper entirely, and instead finds Milan’s real spectacle in Milano Centrale, Ulisse Stacchini’s 1931 station of arched glass, iron ribs and backlit crowds.
A rest-day ride on the UNESCO-listed Bernina Express leads to Morteratsch Glacier, where year markers since 1878 trace two and a half kilometres of retreat, and to Alp Gruem’s donkeys, stone barns, and Segantini’s Alpine light.
Off the Bernina train and up the valley to the Morteratsch glacier, which has been walking backwards for a hundred and seventy years. Bare moraine, flowers moving in behind it, and two mules on the way home.
A sketching day in Varenna on Lake Como. Train up, walking trail through the olive trees to Castello di Vezio, eagle owls at close range, then gesture studies on the ferry pier as the lake week wraps up.
Up the hill above Varenna to a thousand year old watchtower, where they cast a new set of ghosts every year, fly owls over your head, and leave raku ceramics out in the grass.
A business day in Como and Cantù, where silk built a city and lace built its neighbour. Talks with a silk printing house about printing ink work on fabric, plus 62 reference photos for the studio year ahead.
I said the camera did the heavy lifting in Como and then showed you none of it. Here it is: one iron bracket, one painted ceiling, a cathedral that took nearly four hundred years, a sleeping dog, and a price tag.
The other half of the Colico day. A crow on a chimney with a mountain behind it, and then five hours at the table working through the week s photographs in biro.
A day of sketching in Chiavenna and Piuro, the alpine town buried by a landslide in 1618. Mossy alleys, soapstone workshops, green-glass river water, and evening pages turning gathered photos into working ink drawings.
A July ferry trip to Bellagio on Lake Como, where the crowds rewrote the plan and a stone house covered in retired bicycles stole the day. Five photos, all texture and geometry, for future linework.
Giancarlo Vitali spent ninety years painting Bellano and filled Milan’s Palazzo Reale at 88. A day at the Orrido gorge and art set into the village walls becomes a lesson: look harder at what you have.
Back into the gorge at Bellano properly this time. Fifty metres of limestone carved into folds by one stream, walkways bolted to the wall, and the best drawing lesson on the lake.
Skipping the glamorous end of Lake Como, an artist sets up a travelling studio in a village house near Colico, planning a week of daily sketching trips to Bellano, Varenna, Bellagio and Chiavenna.
A sketching day in Florence from the Oltrarno side: gesture drawings in the Boboli Gardens, gallery research on Via Maggio, and the strange story of Giovanni Bastianini, the sculptor whose bust fooled the Louvre.
Inside the Pitti, where the pictures are hung five high and one of them stands in the middle of the room so you can walk round the back of it. Bronzino settling a four hundred year old argument about painting and sculpture.
Hello there! I’m Danielle Latta, and this is where my journey as an artist and storyteller unfolds. In the bustling landscape of art blogs in Australia, I bring you Running Duck Studio’s Art Blog, a special space where art isn’t just seen—it’s felt and experienced.
From the days of crafting animations at Walt Disney to now, black and white drawings that capture the essence of nature and emotion, my path has been one of endless discovery and creative expression. This blog is my personal canvas, where I share those discoveries with you.
Here, you won’t just find posts about art. You’ll step into my world, where each article is a piece of my heart and mind. I delve into everything that makes art a pivotal part of our lives—from my passion for black and white and the inspirations behind my work to the little joys and challenges of being an artist in Australia.
Whether you’re an art lover, a fellow creator, or just someone stopping by, I hope you find something here that speaks to you. Maybe it’s a tip that ignites your creativity, a story that resonates with your own experiences, or simply a moment of beauty to brighten your day.
So, come along on this adventure with me. Let’s explore the vibrant, ever-evolving world of art together. Welcome to the Running Duck Studio Art Blog—where each post is a new chapter in our shared love for art.
As we reach the end of our current collection of stories and insights, I’d like to take a moment to extend my gratitude to you for joining me on this artistic adventure. Your presence and engagement make Running Duck Studio’s blog a thriving community of art enthusiasts.
The world of art extends beyond our individual experiences. It’s about connecting with others, sharing our passions, and growing together. In that spirit, I invite you to explore Tawny Trails, a wonderful platform where the beauty of art and nature intertwine in fascinating ways.
Additionally, for those of you interested in connecting with a broader network of artists and art lovers, the Moreton Bay Arts Council is an incredible resource. They offer a wealth of opportunities, events, and collaborations that enrich our understanding and appreciation of art in our community.
Your thoughts, feedback, and stories are what make this blog a living, breathing part of the art world. I encourage you to share your reflections on the posts you’ve read, any art experiences you’ve had, or simply what you’d love to see more of in future posts.
Don’t forget to subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates, stories, and special behind-the-scenes glimpses into my artistic process. And if you’re not already following us on social media, join us there for daily doses of inspiration and community interaction.
As we part ways (only until the next post!), I leave you with this thought: art is not just about what we create, but also about the connections we forge and the stories we share. Let’s continue to create, share, and inspire together.
Looking forward to our next artistic rendezvous on the Running Duck Studio Art Blog!
