My dirty shame.

  In my mid teens, I was terrified to come out as an - I won't say art lover but as someone simply deeply moved by art.

  I started drinking at a very young age.  I was around thirteen when I got sick for many weeks from alcohol poisoning but one of the great things about being a mid-teen alcoholic was the social negotiable accords that came with it.  I could capitalise on the tantrums when the pity failed and vice-versa so it was an inordinately beneficial loop once I learned how to pull the strings properly.

  One such act of manipulation was that I would tell everyone that I was going on a pub crawl with friends and everybody accepted my story because they knew that when it came to me and drinking, either I would win the argument or they would not.  And I would catch the 501 bus to the city and walk up to the NSW Gallery in the Domain.

  The revelation came when I stood in front of Georges Croegaert's 'Confidences' and wept unashamedly. For the Buddha and Chinoiserie.  For the beauty.  For the chiaroscuro. For the revelations intimated. For the satin and taffeta fabric.  For the amplified emotions and perfectly miniaturised world that Croegaert miraculously created.  You should realise that this painting is, in fact, less than fifty centimeters wide and seventy centimeters tall. If you can click and expand the picture above, do so and marvel.

  And then maybe get your arse to the Gallery and see it for yourself.  For I learned early on that prints (and later digital reproductions) can never do the real works an iota of justice. So you will be well rewarded throughout your long life for seeing these works of art even one time.

 Spencer Gore's 'Icknield Way' has exactly the same effect every time I'm fortunate enough to stand before it.  I cry.  I don't even like pink as a colour but this painting has arrested my complete attention for over thirty years.  I know nothing of art but I understand there is still some contention as to whether Gore was a post-Impressionist or formative Surrealist.  Frankly I don't care.  Gore to me is simply a stark reminder that if you do just one solitary thing in your life that transforms for the better the life of another human being, then you know?  That may be all you need to do. More important than that though, is to do what you love most.  Whenever possible.  Wherever possible. With passion.  With madness.  With terrifying amounts of unbridled joy.

  I've seen many works by many masters since but these are my earliest recollections of coming out.

  So gang, now you all know my shameful truth.

Summertime has come and gone. All used up with wishful thinking.