Introduction: 09/24/2009
 
Picture
Introduction to my blog and me.
 Welcome to my NEW kathy-shell.com revamped retired artist's website and blog. This is the same domain name that I used during the latter years of my art career, It has been dormant for a while as I stopped painting major art works and sculpting and retired from teaching to downsize, travel and care for my husband.  Now I am ready to go public on the web, in a hobby blog writing form and look forward to interacting with my readers.

I only discovered blogging about four months ago and I am learning this skill as I begin to share a lot of the know how I’ve been able to glean from some wonderful teachers who have influenced me throughout my life.  My professional life might be over, but not my teaching, I can share through this blog and my other blogs and I can consider private students

Writing is a skill I have loved all my life, just as well because  I was profoundly dyslectic, I could not read the blackboard at school so like the headstrong disobedient child I was, I refused to go to school, took a live in job as a housekeeper and child minder of three younger children when I was eight years old and proceeded to educate myself with the aid of a 1948 World Book Encyclopedia, the Complete works of William Shakespeare and Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary.  Needless to say there are huge gaps in my learning, algebra and geometry leave me quite blank faced but I’ve a good general knowledge, LOL, of events pre WW2.

I was being inspired by the works of my ‘token’ late uncle seven times Archibald portrait prize winner  William McInnes and his wife Violet McInnes, (who painted the most magnificent flower studies), as I sat in their home and gallery listening to Scottish music and encouraged by the family to believe in my dream of being an artist.  

I attended evening classes at Swinburne University of Technology, Art School from the age of eleven while working during the day at anything from shop work, gardening, dressmaking, child care and cooking,  to pay for my art school fees and materials.

Oh there were plenty who told me that you cannot earn your living at the arts, and that is where my pig headed determination helped me out. The more people told me ‘it could not be done’, the more I believed I would do it.

From this, my love of poetry and writing was also borne.

In my late teens, while working three jobs, one as reporter for a newspaper, another as a free lance portrait artist and the last, as a fashion designer and hand finisher for my mother, who was herself a fashion designer, who having been borne in 1910, and had excelled in the styles of the late 1920’s through to early 60’s was totally out of touch with the new 60’s generation of fashion at a time when I was a teenager and was in touch with what I wanted to wear and I threw all my mother’s preconceptions that blue and green should not be seen together out the door and scoffed at her, ‘only prostitutes wear red’, lady like, clothing ideas and had my mum making backless  ultra mini skirt and sheath dresses which latter were syndicated under a few famous labels.  Would you believe that at that stage of my life, I decided I was ‘getting nowhere’, and I needed an education. 

I bluffed my way into university, saying I had my leaving certificate.  I had been doing art and my leaving certificate by correspondence but work pressure had not allowed me to time to complete them.  I was accepted and graduated with a science degree in my early twenties, promptly got married, did a little night duty nursing as my science degree was  in health, and then I got back to my art, as a free lance artist, trained as a councilor while I was a stay at home mum, wrote a few articles, and small self help publications,  ran an award winning home based business for a few years, taught and exhibited art.
 
Back in the late 70's I had a stroke that left me technically blind for a few years (I recovered), and it was at that time I took up pottery sculpture, working mostly by feel and contrast of light and shade which I still could see and I continued to paint, my light and shade training coming into good effect. 
I suffered another set back in the 90's when I had a pulmonary embolism and once I had sufficiently recovered I made it a stepping stone to do my best art works, 'then', not latter, having had several warnings that you do not put off until later the things you really want to achieve.  That was the uplifting moment for my art as I set myself major art works and won some major awards, represented Australia at an International artist's festival, was chosen by Westfield as one of the top 10 artist in one year and I owned and ran the award winning, Buninyong Gallery, featuring my own original paintings.   That was my career highlights.   I can laugh now that 'I'm not a has been, I'm a once was'. :-). 
During my successful creative career, Reg and I and also our children on occasions, traveled overseas where I painting free lance and art commissions.  Together Reg and I raised a family, two beautiful daughters and they have each given us two wonderful grandchildren.

I am now retired as I am a full time care giver and I now direct my creative skills from the former professional level to hobby as I enjoy and learn to live within the realities of my senior downsizing years . I had always believed I would turn from painting to writing at some stage of my life and this now is my time to write.

I will write in one or all of my blogs most days and hope readers will find something of interest to them within the pages.

Below is the poem and the artist's, that inspired me and helped me through what was actually a very troubled childhood for although, my artistic skills were encouraged, I knew hunger, malnutrition and lack of basic care and safety.  I was inspired by the skill and beauty of these artists and the positive message in this poem 
 
Picture
Miss Collins, 1924 winner of the Archibald Prize by William McInnes.
I was privileged to be able to view the home gallery of the former great seven times Archibald prize winning artist, as a child and to be inspired by his genius.
Violet McInnes, was my inspiration.

The gardens of the McInnes home in Ivanhoe, Victoria, were filled with camellia in flower when I visited and the home contained magnificent oil paintings of these same camellias, painted by Violet McInnes. 

I remember seeing a dew drop on a petal that she had painted and working for years, as a child,  trying to perfect the painting  of a dew drop. 
I adored Violet McInnes paintings, (see below) and I know my love for having 'an artist's flower garden' and for painting, grew more from my admiration as a child of Violet McInnes's work, and a desire to create beauty in what was a troubled childhood.

Looking at these pictures, now, still makes me want to block out life and set the easel up in front of bouquet of casually arranged, garden flowers.
Picture
Picture
The Ivanhoe, Victoria, home of the my Aunt Kath McInnes and Ian McInnes, was filled with the magnificent flower paintings by Violet McInnes, who lived in the 'granny flat', within the grounds of the home.  I never met her, I would have loved to have been able to tell her, how much I was in awe of her skill, both then and now.  Her work inspired me more than the work of any other artist. I was able to view it at first hand, on numerous occasions at an age when I first decided I too, would be an artist.
Picture
It couldn’t be done.
by Edgar Albert Guest 1881 - 1959

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
    But, he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn’t," but he would be one
    Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
    On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
    That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you’ll never do that;
    At least no one has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
    And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
    Without any doubting or quiting,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
    That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
    There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
    The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle it in with a bit of a grin,
    Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
    That "couldn’t be done," and you’ll do it

 
 


Comments

Beckie
10/08/2009 3:26pm

What an extraordinary life you've had (are having) and such a strong unconceivable childhood.

I loved reading about you helping your mother with her fashion designing and even pushing her concepts and boundaries.

This helped me know you so much more. Thank you for sharing your passion filled life.

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply