A rugged corrugated iron bach perched precariously on the boulders at Rotokura — Cable Bay, Nelson, is my most enduring childhood memory. High tide on the estuary side cut us off from the world — endless hours of boats, fishing with my father Don, exploring. I loved the isolation, the smells and sounds of the waves and rocks. Storms brought the waves right up to the building and on occasions in the doorway. The redefining of coastal land occupation meant the demolition of this family gem in the early s.
Our home in Nelson city overlooked Te Tahuna a Tama-i-ea, the Nelson Boulder Bank — another place I explored frequently and which would later impact on my work. The open-ended nature of Art School was not what I had imagined.
I secured a place in the 4th year Honours group with Mark Adams, Boyd Webb and Phil Clairmont; but for various reasons I finished the year feeling somewhat conflicted and disillusioned, uncertain about my direction.
Of the teachers, I had respect for Don Peebles, and the few personal exchanges we had after 5pm were particularly thought-provoking. At the end of the first year Chris Booth and I travelled to back to Nelson, aiming to look for work and stay with my parents. I returned there each semester break — I loved it — slowtime, getting fit, hard physical work, and a stark contrast to the late 60s lifestyle of music, and a boundary-less existence at Art School.
Seeing and encouraging the potential of young minds was satisfying — but the hours and intensity played havoc with my attempts at art practice. Michael was to become my brother-in-law, and we went on to share a lifetime of intertwined pathways and exchanged observations of the art scene.
