In the Studio.Sydney 1985.When I moved across to Europe to live, I had limited funds and no real prospects....other than a good education and a passionate teaching methodology.
I had only imagined what living in a different country might have been like......alas everything became a reality....very quickly indeed.
Europe was where most things happened......all through history, the most enlightening and enthralling evidence......occurred there.
Life was about taking yourself everywhere and experiencing the traps and the higher plains....in order to gain your knowledge. I recall the wise words of my Grandfather....whilst becoming his hairdresser at an early age......"Now my dear....do you know what the term black dog means"?......no Pa....I don't I said......he then explained it to me.
It seems from his many observations that some creative types have a predisposition to a sorrowfulness, which can lead to despair........something about ......what he thought was an extra sensory perception.
Leonard....my grandfather.......was a wonderful teacher.
Years later when I had been living in London for several years.....he wrote me a letter.
Knowledge he said never really leaves you.....my dear....take the Cutty Sark...for example.
Now you live in Greenwich you will recall our conversation regarding the Maritime Museum.
And he was right....I had remembered everything he had taught me.
I find it so incredibly ironic that my first and most rewarding position I held in London,
was at the NPG in the archive department.........simply because it was my grandfather who coached me on all the wives of Henry the VIII and the Tudors.......not to mention the symbolist's and the Scottish Colourist's as well...........perfect prerequisite for the job.
As an artist.....geography is one truly distinctive subject area.... I adore. Having travelled extensively across the globe.....I found my artistic endeavours, to be the best experiences of my life ...so far.
Self Portrait.He wasn't happy about me becoming an artist......he cared about where the money would come from.
On most occasions he would often talk to me about his home town in Italy......simply because he subconsciously knew that one day I would be there.......exploring his favourite spots.
His heart was always there.........and could sense mine would be there too.....he without knowing...was an artist himself. My passaport and citizenship de Italia......was our most treasured topic of conversation, hands down.
All roads lead to Rome........................and where my fathers ancestors built magnificent aqueduct's and splendid fountains with colossal mermen blowing into giant seashells.....he built roads too.......
that's where his heart was.................and mine too.
The Romans were the best road makers the world had ever seen and as I had to deliver my fathers eulogy......the words were clear.....my father made beautiful roads, remember that, the next time you travel on the Hume Highway..............one of the best.
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