The Art of the Open Channel Part One
The Art of the Open Channel Part One

The Art of the Open Channel Part One

I have always been an artist. Or at least since I was four years old. Recall my first drawing was a train. It clearly was a train and that’s what it looked like. Of course, it was the drawing of a four-year-old. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was the first thing I consciously was aware that I had created with intent. From that moment art has always been with me in one form or another.

It means art isn’t about brushes or any particular media. It’s about how I think and how I go about creating and it doesn’t really matter how it is expressed. Just because I have painted and can paint, doesn’t mean because I stop painting I am no longer an artist. It means I am no longer a painter. More specifically I am not painting right now. That doesn’t preclude me from getting back into it again if I have the desire. Right now I am not painting and I am OK with that. It doesn’t lessen me as an artist. 

I grew up with an alcoholic father. He wasn’t abusive or physically violent. When he wasn’t drinking he was quite OK most of the time. He was pursued by his own demons however and that was obvious.  My mother mainly just had to cope with him being him, in all of his aspects. I think he probably developed self-awareness quite young and in some ways that liberated him and trapped him. In some respects that made him a better man, but it also allowed him to use his self-awareness to get what he wanted from people. The details of my father are the story for another time, but he had a fascinating life. The reason he is in my story is because of the role model he became. Both he and my mother were artists, but not when I was four. My mother rekindled her art when I was young in response to Father being Father. His alcoholism and general character caused my mother to return her childhood interest in art as a way of dealing with Father. Father really couldn’t be ‘dealt with’, he was a force unto himself. Father on seeing this immediately developed an interest in art more as a competitive game rather than a desire to be an artist. That said though, when he did take it on, he really took it on and pursued it passionately. What started as a competitive game became the real thing. He took art lessons but soon outgrew them and painted passionately. Mostly they were Australian country scenes of things that he had grown up with or had experienced in his earlier life. 

Art was all around me from an early age. It infused me. Mothers’ style was vastly different to Fathers. They both exhibited at the local Show and Father won seven years in a row and Mother once. I got second prize. All through school I constantly would draw. Mainly all ‘kid stuff’. Nothing outstanding but the constant drawing did improve my technique steadily. The school I went to had no art class at all. This was a small remote country town and being an artist was not understood or appreciated by most all people. If you were an artist then you must be gay and were treated as such. To be considered a Poofta or a ‘cat’ as it was called in my school was not a good thing. In my school also, it was considered necessary to prove oneself as a fighter or a good sportsman, otherwise, you would once again be considered a ‘cat’ or a poofta. There wasn’t any middle ground. In my case, I was a tall skinny introvert who didn’t fight and was not sporty at all and was an artist, well there wasn’t any doubt. I had to be a poofta. In their narrow worldview they couldn’t see any other alternative. As a result I took refuge in my art. That was fine by me. It was my safe place. It was mine and no one could take that away from me. Much like my Mother had done with Father .

For me to finish senior school we had to move from that little town to a larger town. This school did have art classes but I was convinced that no one could teach anyone art. One could only learn it through one’s endeavours. So I didn’t enrol in art class and continued to develop my art privately. Along the way, I learned something important. This was way before anything like the internet existed. There was no easy access to reference resources. To know how to draw something one needed reference. In those days reference was either books or through personal observation. I found it necessary to develop the skill of being able to ‘see’ what I was looking at. Not just seeing that something was a chair, because looked like a chair for instance, but seeing how it was made. Seeing how the light fell on it and created shadows. Observing the texture and colour of it and any details and imperfections that made it unique. It was only through this practice that I could develop my internal library of reference material. I knew that if I closely observed something and remembered the details I could draw it again from memory. This has served me well for my whole life. I still have the ability to observe and learn.

After finishing high school I applied to go to Art College. I figured halfway through grade 11 that I probably wasn’t going to go to University. I had no idea what I wanted to do and I wasn’t dedicated academically enough to put the work in. I looked at what I was good at and what I enjoyed doing the most and decided it was art. I looked at what I could use art for to make a living and found what was then called ‘commercial art’. This eventually was called Graphic Design. I had chosen my path at the age of fifteen. To get into art college I needed to pass English and have a good portfolio. I had 18 months to create a folio of work. That was my mission.

In those 18 months, I did only what was necessary at school to pass and put all my energy into creating my portfolio. I built a crude homemade drafting table out of two old shop display frames and suspended a sheet of plywood between. I worked hard and was dedicated to my task. At the end of grade 12, I sent my folio and application to the Art College in Brisbane and discovered that they had lost it somewhere and it was nowhere to be found. I had about six weeks to create another. Mostly it was made up of what I considered to be my second-rate work. I applied to two institutions and got accepted to both and chose the Queensland College of Art. Thus began the next stage of my art adventure.