It is a big adventure, this writing life. There’s the adventure in the stories: characters experiencing things, discovering things, learning things; overcoming and becoming.
Then there’s the adventure of conceiving stories, writing stories, redrafting stories (repeat ad infinitum if necessary), before sending them out until an editor takes a shine to a particular piece and puts it amongst his or her pages. Then there’s the adventure of feedback. Who will like what? Or will no-one like any of it? Or will there be no feedback at all?
But there’s more: the places writing has taken me, as in real places. A homestead out of Braidwood. A gatekeeper’s cottage in Launceston. The writers’ house at Bundanon beside the Shoalhaven River. The monastic Varuna in the Blue Mountains. And, most recently, the Australian Defence Force Academy, courtesy of UNSW Canberra.
Then there are the people I’ve met, other writers, artists of all kinds. The conversations over coffees, lunches, glasses of wine, dinners even! It doesn’t take me long to be enthralled by those who are far ahead in this game; I become besotted. It is, to tell you the truth, one of the most exciting things: to spend time with extraordinarily creative souls.
I have been so fortunate. A highlight?
In January 2011, as part of a piece for the Canberra Times, I found myself in the Sydney home of eminent contemporary – or ‘pop’ – artist Martin Sharp. All morning we talked about the things that mattered to him: his great love of Vincent van Gogh, Tiny Tim, and, a little surprisingly, UK talent-show contestant Susan Boyle; about how he thought the best art came from school children; about how his thinking has evolved, his relatively newfound religiosity. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘conservative thinking is radical.’ This from the man who was once involved with Oz Magazine, whose London editors would end up being jailed as part of the infamous ‘Obscenity Trials’.
At midday, after he farewelled me, as I walked up his driveway, I thought – and I distinctly remember it – that this would be go down as one of my favourite days. Here was a great artist, but one without a skerrick of pretension. It was as though I’d just spent the morning with a slightly kooky but utterly charming uncle (who chain-smoked).
So, dear writing, thank you for the adventures thus far.
And, dear Martin Sharp, thank you for everything you gave us.
(First published in Panorama, The Canberra Times, 14 December 2013.)
8 comments
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January 25, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Jan
Gabrielle Bryden
I’m very jealous that you met Martin Sharp 😉 and just as well you met him when you did given his passing last year! I agree with him that conservative thinking can be radical for sure (but mostly in a bad way imo). Imagine being able to meet and talk to your favourite authors – I’d be sitting down with Edgar Allen Poe, Ibsen, Agatha Christie, Brecht, Mark Twain, Solzhenitsyn, Homer (whoever he was), Douglas Adams and countless more – I’ll have to give that a good think.
January 25, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Jan
Nigel Featherstone
Hi Gabe, that’s a mighty fine wish-list! Maybe we should start a blog where writers interview their favourite dead writers/artists?? I’m only half joking.
January 26, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Jan
Gabrielle Bryden
hahaha shall I organise the séance 😉 might be worthy of a blog post that’s for sure – we shall ponderate on the issue
January 28, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Jan
Tristan
Lovely piece on writing and your – I hope it’s not too strong a word – hero, Martin Sharp.
Soon after he died I was in the Art Gallery of NSW, a place I used to like visiting, given its location, but loathed stepping into, because it was so goddamn pretentious, but which, on this visit, I found myself feeling comfortable and at ease. You see, left of the entrance is, now, a large and energetic collection of Australian art – including, I was pleased to discover, Sharp’s. The whole thing seemed right. I recommend a visit when you’re next in town, Nigel.
Another thing: the idea of the hero intrigues and confuses me. Of course I have heroes, people I admire and want to emulate, either in their morality or in their successes. But, I wonder, how necessary is the hero? Is this merely a leftover, and a hang-up, from religion? Or are heroes essential? I don’t think there are any simple answers to these questions, but I value those who, in their own humble way, aren’t afraid of being heroes.
January 28, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Jan
Nigel Featherstone
Hi Tristan, thanks, as always, for your thoughtful and thought-provoking comments. I really need to get to the Art Gallery of NSW. The Australian collection sounds amazing. I sense a city trip coming on (though that would involve catching the train, as driving in Sydney sends me very close to the edge).
As to the whole concept of heroes: very interesting. I’m not sure Martin Sharp was/is a hero of mine as such. I admired him very much, especially as he was so humble about what he’d achieved. I was also in awe of his ability to live a life filled with art and creativity. I only met him that once, but the encounter did leave quite an impression, as is no doubt obvious. But I have other heroes, official ones, and perhaps they’re more on the literary side of things. Tolstoy is one, as is Chekhov.
Is our need for heroes some kind of religious hang-up? I think you’re probably right. And I really like your idea of admiring those who aren’t afraid of being a hero. Which brings me back to Sharp – I don’t think he would have been at all comfortable with being a hero. Perhaps he was very keen to be admired, but for his art only.
And, finally, are heroes ‘essential’? Absolutely not, surely.
February 26, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Feb
whisperinggums
Are heroes essential? Perhaps not, though I think life might be poorer without them. I’m thinking Martin Luther King Jr or Gandhi, I’m thinking unknown heroes such as one’s mother or father. They, with their warts, give us something tangible to aim for. We probably don’t NEED this tangibility but I sure think it helps. Or, is this a bit shallow?
BTW I know what you mean about driving in Sydney. From Canberra, we love to use the bus.
February 26, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Nigel Featherstone
Hi Sue, good to hear from you. Love your thoughts. No, it’s not essential to have heroes, I don’t think. Though perhaps it’s good that we can find people that we admire, and reflect on what it is that we admire about them? Perhaps it’s all just a part of a good mix: as I mentioned in the original piece, I also admire all the adventures I’ve been on throughout my writing life, and have experienced wonderful places AS WELL AS people. I hope that makes sense? I’m starting to think that I’m sounding like a crack-pot!
February 26, 2014 at 9:16+00:00Feb
whisperinggums
Ah but a good crackpot! Seriously though, yes it makes sense. Now, I’d better go get ready as I have an appointment with the Incas (and their ilk)