After graduating from art school, like so many young creatives full of dreams, I packed my bags and set off for London. I had my heart set on furthering my studies at the Chelsea Art School, and I’d even sent in my portfolio and waited anxiously for a response. But when I arrived to collect it, I was hit with a harsh reality. They hadn’t even opened it. Not a glance. That was the first real blow in what would become a lifetime of both beautiful highs and some pretty tough lows.
That moment taught me something invaluable: in this life, especially as an artist, you need thick skin and an unshakable determination to keep going, no matter what. And looking back over a fifty-year career, I can say for certain that lesson stuck.
So, there I was, living in a little basement flat in South Clapham, London. It might sound grim, but those were magical days. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor with Tim - my lover, soon to be my husband, and partner through it all. London was vibrant and alive, and I threw myself into it. I’d spend hours sketching people on the tube, capturing fleeting moments of daily life. Sadly, I no longer have those sketches, but the memories of that time are vivid.
Tim and I were dreamers, and after a while, we set off to explore more. We travelled around England, soaking in the history, before planning what felt like the ultimate adventure. A four-month road trip around Europe in a camper van. We lived on next to nothing, wandering through galleries, museums, and backstreets, always discovering, always inspired. I sketched endlessly, and thankfully, I’ve still got those drawings from the journal we kept. They remind me of a time when life was wild and full of possibility.
Drawings from my sketchbook in Europe.
Then it was back to Australia. And the big question was what now? I considered going back for another two years of art school, but life had other plans. Babies. Like many women, especially artists, finding time to create while raising little ones is no small feat. But what an art it is, nurturing these tiny humans into the fabulous people they’ve become. I wouldn’t trade that part of my journey for anything.
And just when I thought life might settle, Tim came out with, “We’re going gold prospecting.” I should’ve seen it coming, really. So there we were in a long-wheelbase Landcruiser, a caravan, a two-year-old, and a ten-month-old, heading into the wilds of the West Australian Goldfields. It was madness, pure and simple. We carried enough food and water to last two weeks at a time, cooked everything over open fires, and lived miles from the nearest town.
Our little family living in the bush.
Christine in front of long-wheelbase Landcruiser at the campsite.
But oh, what an adventure. That time in the bush gave me a deep love for nature and the red earth, endless blue skies, saltbush plains, and those stunning white-trunked eucalypts. I’d walk for hours with the kids, teaching them about the plants and animal tracks, all the while sketching with coloured pencils as they played in the dirt. And every now and then, we’d hear Tim holler as he’d found a nugget!
Painting of the desert flowers in the Goldfields.
Sketches of the goldfields, it was so beautiful.
After a few years (about 3), it was time for Catherine to start school, so we packed up and headed back to Perth. Back to the city, back to a different kind of life.
We settled in West Leederville, and I began painting and beading Swan Brand t-shirts for a local fashion agent, something just to keep the creativity flowing. But it turned into much more. That little side project was the beginning of an 18-year adventure in the fashion world, running our own business in the rag trade.
And what a rollercoaster that was. But I’ll save that story for next time…
Sneak peek of a hand-painted rag trade tee.