Hmm, that’s a provocative headline. My Dad Lied to Me. Well, in a way he did. And in a way, he didn’t. Let me explain.

Dad has been trying to get me to go with him to his weekly art classes in Mt Waverly on a Tuesday afternoon for several years. He thinks, because I haven’t painted much since high school, that my Rembrandt-esque talents are going to waste. My artistic dreams and enormous potential are not being fulfilled. (huge sigh…)

Like most parents, he has an over-inflated perception of his child’s ability. I am not Rembrandt, not ever will be. My artistic talents compared with the great master would add up to the amount he had in one atom of his smallest toenail. But Dad is right in one sense. In Year 12, I studied art as a subject and had visions of being accepted into the Victorian College of Arts. Yes, I thought I had a future as a painter.

But look at what I painted back then…

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Murky waters by teenage Jennifer.

Ewww. A muddy, impressionistic interpretation of Aussie landscape and as far from the sort of work accepted by the College of the Arts as you could imagine. So you can picture what they thought, this hip school of laid-back cool, when I stupidly turned up for an interview dressed in my Sunday-best. Naively, I thought it was appropriate and respectful to arrive on time and dressed conservatively, in a pleated skirt, neatly ironed shirt and new shoes. FAIL. I remember their comments as they looked me up and down in disbelief:

‘So you liked 19th century Australian art and the likes of Frederick McCubbin, huh?’ ‘Hmmm, did your art teacher do that for you?’ ‘How do you think you will survive as a painter?’ ‘You do realise that most artists have to waitress or stuff sausages to get by? Can you see yourself stuffing sausages??’

Stuffing sausages was something I hadn’t considered.

Then they suggested I go downstairs to visit the studios where the students worked. I knew straight away I wouldn’t get in. Abstract images in huge slabs of colour were plastered over massive canvases – aka artist Mark Rothko – alongside soaring geometric sculptures. Students dressed in goth garb, ripped t-shirts and paint-spattered black jeans eyed me disparagingly.

When I returned to the interview room, my paintings had been packed up and placed outside the door. Goodbye.

I didn’t paint much after that.

In recent years, I decided to experiment with modern art. Here is what I made for the main dining area of our sunroom. It’s my abstract interpretation of a mouth, because, after all, the dining room and the mouth go hand in hand. Eating, laughing, conversation, tasting etc…

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