Dad would wash the brim of his hat
to get the shape right
What a lot of writing there is in this
painting. I've been putting prints away
in the Alexander Turnbull Library. And
one of them is a nice unchallenging
turn of the century watercolour called
Takitimu. What a dumb way to paint — this
is how I feel them.
Like many English people, Dad found the
emptiness of rural NZ depressing. Rather
than stimulating. I'm sure he thought
there should be lots of different dewy
shades of green. Like in The Lakes
District.
How hard the bench seat is! On pre-
Manapouri dam trips to Lake Te Anau for
Holidays, the feeling of being Nearly
There, bumping over the tremendously
rickety long road/rail bridge... on
my Painting I'm writing Takitimu. The
Oreti River. Dad's V-dub van, and an "A"
puffing off to Lumsden.
Briar rose turning scratchily yellow.
1984 acrylic on hardboard 900 x 600mm