My Beloved Australia
I had a happy childhood growing up in Western Australia. There were always pencils and paper at home and drawing came naturally to me. When other kids were still drawing stick figures, I was doing much more detailed pictures – arms and legs with two lines enclosing the shape of the limbs and real faces with real features.
My primary school teacher told me I’d be a fine artist one day and kept all my drawings. I was also lucky enough to have a wonderful art master at High School, Frank E. Mills, who gave me encouragement and taught me an enormous amount. With Jock Campbell, who worked for the education department, he organised some Saturday morning art sessions for gifted children in the metropolitan area. Anyone with talent was welcome to come along and simply mess around with the paints supplied, and eventually we had our own exhibition. When I was 16 I had my first solo exhibition in Perth, showing a collection of watercolours and a few oils of local landscapes. All the paintings sold and I had another show the following year.
I struggled at university. After two years I left and enrolled in teacher training college which I loved. My first job was perfect, teaching children to swim, but then something happened that changed everything. One day I found I couldn’t move properly and ended up in hospital, totally paralysed and fearing that I had polio. Fortunately, it turned it out to be a mysterious viral infection with similar symptoms and I slowly got better. During the months I was lying there, I had a lot of time to think and I came to a decision. I wanted to be painter. I wanted to go to London, the hub of the universe, to study art. In 1952, just before my 22nd birthday, I left on a ship bound for Europe.
Misty Morning Perth
