zoe young paints
LUCY CULLITON Portraiture is not easy—nothing will ever ask more of the painter than a face—but one of the great things about painting people is that you get to meet them. I’ve had some great conversations with Hollywood film directors, Olympic sports stars, fashion designers, writers and a list of incredible individuals who have enriched my life beyond the portrait. In this series of works for Galah, I have embarked upon ‘Goodtraits’, a project to find and paint individuals in regional Australia who are cultivating some good, in their own way. I first met Lucy Culliton when she was judging the local art award at The Raglan Gallery in Cooma, southern New South Wales. At the time, I was living at our family hotel at Crackenback. After one of my woodcuts won an award, Lucy invited me to visit her home and studio in Bibbenluke. I didn’t know how to drive then, so Mum offered to take me, no doubt hoping some of Lucy’s creative success might rub off. Lucy said we were welcome to join her for ‘feed time’, as she proudly showed us her mob of rescued sheep, dogs, cockatoos, lambs, chickens, geese, emus and horses. We were delighted by Lucy’s frank tone when it came to her animals. ‘If you want your dinner, fucking stand back,’ she said to one boisterous sheep. Mum had been dubious about the sustainability of my life as an artist. The recent announcement that I was pregnant hadn’t helped. But I saw a spark of hope in her when she met Lucy. She was absolutely riveted by this self-assured and independent individual; the only woman she’d ever met who had made a success of the path that I, too, had chosen. Since then Lucy has been, for want of a better word, a ‘mentor’. She’s never advised me to do anything; however, she has led by example and has been a generous and honest friend when I’ve asked questions. While Lucy was at art school, a lecturer announced to the room that, of all the art students there, statistically only one would make it as an artist. Ever the individual, Lucy smiled to herself. ‘That’s me,’ she thought. Lucy has the most integrity of any artist I’ve met. She competes with no-one, yet conquers all. From a pet sheep in her bathroom, to common weeds elevated to the status of prized peonies, under
Lucy’s gaze every inch of the painting, even the air, is painted with a sincerity that is hard to emulate. While other artists scream for attention with the shock of the new horrific, in this year’s Archibald Prize Lucy sang a soft ballad of the farmer next door, her neighbour Charlie Maslin, quietly bringing our attention to the regenerative work he is doing on the land. Lucy’s home is full of love, work and care. It’s a smorgasbord of collections, clusters of figurines, draped crochet and works by her friends Ben Quilty, Reg Mombassa and Euan Macleod—testament to the way she is respected in the art world. Windows frame a view onto the cascading garden of hellebores, blossoms and daffodils, swaying in the spring breeze. ‘Lucyland’ is enchanting, but beauty is not enough to keep devastation at bay. This year has been tough. Lucy’s parents lived on a farm in the Blue Mountains. During the bushfires, she moved them to Bibbenluke to escape the fires. The fires found them anyway, as flames licked the nearby pine plantations. The exposure to smoke did its damage and Lucy’s mother died 11 days before her father. ‘I really miss him when I finish a painting,’ Lucy says quietly, during our sitting. ‘He was always really excited to see a painting and was interested, I miss that.’ Having the same relationship with my own father, I can’t begin to fathom the void left behind. Since painting Lucy’s portrait I’ve been thinking how those in her orbit are touched by a generosity not just of things, but of thoughts. So often we think being generous is about how much we can give in things, in objects. But really, generosity of spirit— giving people the confidence to pursue their dreams, believing in people—that’s true generosity, and Lucy has it in spades. n Lucy Culliton lives and works in her studio at Bibbenluke, on the Monaro, New South Wales. One of Australia’s most recognised female contemporary artists, she is the only female Australian artist to be a finalist in the Archibald, Wynne and Sulman prizes in the same year. Her work can be found in the collections of the Art Gallery of New South Wales; Parliament House, Canberra; the National Gallery of Australia; Macquarie Bank; the New England Regional Art Museum; and Tamworth Regional Gallery. Words and artwork Zoe Young
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