2000 - 2002 Early Handprints

"The fine art of painting, which is the bastard of alchemy, always has been always will be, a game. The rules of the game are quite simple: in a given arena, on as many psychic fronts as the talent allows, one must visually describe, the centre of the meaning of existense" Brett Whiteley

Self-portrait (2000)

Hands were one of my principle subjects when I started painting. I am not sure why they fascinated me so. Perhaps it was because they are symbolically associated with ideas of strength, protection, power and spirituality in most cultures – although I didn't conciously know that at the time. Perhaps it was because they signal something very human. It's through the hands that we intimately connect with others, and it is through the hands that we make out intimate creations.

Geometric Hand (2000)

Valentine's Day (2000)

Walking Hand (1999)

As well as using hands as a way to access various questions on the self, I had did a lot of paintings that had Australia's national identity as the subject, which in many ways, was also about the self. Athough the Australian identity is a common subject to be anguished about in the humanities, it is quite a rare subject in the Australian visual arts. Admittedly, arguably the most famous Australian artworks are by the likes of Tucker, Drysdale and Nolan who were focussed on the Australian identity, but they have been dead for a long time and they also didn't go to art school.

It was in the painting “Mad as a Cut Snake” that my motif of a snake composed of three threads first appeared. I used it again in Conception of Genesis and later it evolved into a kind of DNA rainbow serpent signalling birth and the interconnection between many things.

The Touch (2000)

An Australian Supper (2002)

From the Deserts the Prophets Come (2000)

Australian Story (2000)

Our Ned Kelly (2000)

Mad as a Cut Snake (2000)

Conception of Genesis (2002)

The Others (2002)

When I was starting out, I did a short course on painting at the ANU School of Art, but aside from that, I was largely untaught. In hindsight, I am quite thankful for not going to art school because it probably spared me a few negative influences. Firstly, had I been at art school, I would have had to talk to teachers about what I intended to do and then stand before assessment panels and justify what I had done. I find that this is more of a left-brain activity than a right-brain activity where my art comes from. If pushed, I could have given a justification for the processes or themes that I used, but the truth was that I really didn't know and not having to justify gave me the freedom to access the illogical part of my mind. Secondly, necessity is the mother of all invention and since I didn’t have skills about how to paint, I had to invent some. One of my early techniques involved doing an under layer, painting a thick layer over the top and then scrapping it off with a screwdriver (see Australian Story.) I don’t paint with that technique anymore, but I think there is some merit in it and I may return to it one day (on the downside, I created a lot of crap because I lacked the skills to paint what I wanted.) Thirdly, I don’t think I would have painted any Australian subject matters had I been at art school. Since World War 2, perspectives on the Australian identity have generally come from artists who have not had formal art education. I am not sure why that is. Perhaps it is because art schools have a tendency to cocoon their students and encourage them to see themselves as somewhat above the mainstream. As for me, although I was creating in isolation, I was not socially isolated. My social network was composed of Australians from diverse walks of life. This engagement probably prevented me from seeing mainstream Australia as the enemy, as is common in the arts. Another possible explanation for the lack of focus on Australia as a subject matter is that it is too confronting. Australian history is a very violent one, and it is also a very morally ambiguous one, which makes it quite a problematic subject to deal with. For me, that uncertainty was an attraction, but I think lots of artists prefer activist-based subjects where right and wrong is easier to ascertain and which has already been defined as such by their peer group. I would guess that the gravitation towards safer subjects has something to do with the vulnerability artists feel when they display they work. In many ways, exhibiting work is like standing before a crowd naked and one's confidence can be enhanced by adopting an ideological viewpoint that an audience is likely to concur with.  Standing there naked and being unsure about why one is naked is a very vulnerable feeling.

When I was doing my short course, my teacher said that the principle difference between those who have been to art school and those who haven't can be seen in the amount of variety in the respective exhibitions. Art school trained exhibitions tend to have a singular concept and the paintings are in a singular style. Non-art school exhibitions are all over the shop. For example, there might be a landscape, a portrait, and then something that is abstract expressionist. As far as the teacher was concerned, such exhibitions were a bit silly because the variety just seemed to communicate that the artist liked to paint, but had not put any thought into what they were doing. When I look at my early work, and my work in its entirety, I realise that I am also all over the shop, but I don’t see that as such a bad thing. Because I don’t begin with a concept, my art can be process of discovery, not a declaration of what I already believe. Additionally, I respond to my environment in my art and since my environment has often been changing, it is to be expected that my art changes as well. That said, I agree that an exhibition that is all over the shop looks like a unappetising dogs breakfast. Ironically, when I go to graduating exhibitions, and group exhibitions of art school graduates, I look at the work on display and think it is a dogs breakfast because there is no commonality amongst the exhibiting artists aside from their desire not to appear common. It seems students are told to start with a concept, but ensure that no one else in their class is also doing the concept. For me, this focus on individuality hinders cultural learning.