A Weekend in Warialda

Saturday 31 October 2015, 3pm

I spent last weekend on an arty expedition to Warialda with fellow artist Chris Fletcher. We arrived in Warialda at 9am after I took a wrong turn near Texas, which cost us an hour.

After a burger for breakfast (yuck), we set off to look for Gragin Peak, crossing Murdering Creek along the way. Might have a fraught history. I’d bought some acrylics (also yuck!) and wanted to try some plein-air painting without using charcoal, which I hadn’t attempted in many years. The crudeness of the acrylic layer turned out to be an asset. It produced a much clumsier image than I would have produced with oils. I finished it from memory with oils over the top a couple of days ago. It has a rather tenuous connection with reality.

“Gragin Peak”

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Fletcher perversely ignored the obvious peak and did a stunner of the fields –

We moved on to get a distant view of the peak from the highway, stopping at a farm and getting permission to draw from their hill. This time Chris went for the obvious.

I ignored the attractions of the silos and drew the view –

“Twin Peaks”

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So late in the afternoon we found ourselves at Cranky Rock Recreation Reserve and realised we didn’t need to go anywhere else for the rest of the weekend. I started by tackling the massive rocks on the other side of the creek from the high viewing platform –

“Cranky Rocks”

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Chris tackled the same view later that night –

while I stayed put and drew the campground –

“Cranky Bins”

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“Cranky Trees”

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Next morning I was feeling a bit seedy, but managed to get started with a track near the viewing platform, followed by Warialda Creek –

“Cranky Track”

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“Cranky Creek”

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That night I drove back up the track to draw a field that had taken my fancy. Balls of sheet lightning were busy in the distance –

“Cranky Lightning”

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The lighter marks in the closest field were made by my clothes dragging across the charcoal. Chaos is my friend again. Later on, back in the camp I attacked Chris as he worked –

“Cranky Chris”

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“Cranky Camp”

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Tony the Tasmaniac's hand-crafted camper -

 

That naughty toxic waste mine near Texas -

I’m not feeling too well.

Flatlands 1

Thursday 8 October, 2015, 5pm

Flatlands

A two-week residency at the RiverSmart Wetlands Centre in Warren, NSW.

I arrived in Warren a couple of weeks ago after the long dreary drive down the New England from home with a wad of panels and a mess of different charcoals to try out.

I went out to the legendary and historic merino sheep stud Haddon Rig the next day and got straight to work. I was feeling a bit listless at first and knew the best thing to do was just to work through it.

The first obvious thing that hit my eye was the old shearing shed. It was cool inside and had the usual atmosphere and aromas that I’ve grown to savour in woolsheds over the years.

“Haddon Rig Merino Stud, EST. 1882”

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The title was taken from the sign on the shed wall. Just over the road was a Zen-like arrangement of sheep feed bins.

“Three Bins”

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After a pleasant night relaxing in the Jackaroo Lodge and having a beer or two in the old summer house on the Marthaguy Creek, I bounced out of bed at 5am and went straight to the creek where I drew the sun-blasted reflections in the water and one of the patrolling pelicans, who seemed to be scraping something off the submerged trunks of the drowned redgums for breakfast.

“Marthaguy”

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There’d been a long release from Burrendong Dam and the creek was looking quite healthy, but a bit brown. I got into the habit of spending the late afternoon in the old summer house and watching the birds on the creek. A mob of spoonbills and pelicans were permanently installed nearby.

As an aside, a working dog was ensconced in the dog boxes next to the lodge. I had a chat with him and drew his portrait to keep him company. He was chewing the rim of his bucket out of boredom.

“Bad Dog, No Biscuit”

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I drew the inevitable again, this time from the outside.

“Haddon - Not Rigged”

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This was four and a half hour’s work in the hot sun and thought I might leave it at that, but they were bringing the rams in to shear and one last drawing in the shade inside would finish the day off nicely -

“Crunch Time for the Rams”

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They wouldn’t stand still for long, being a bit restive with a human in the shed, so this portrait was a composite of a few different rams.

The next day the shearing was on, a big mob of rams (already sold) and just one shearer. Josh Pilley was a third generation shearer and wasn’t like those I’d met previously. He didn’t eat crap, in fact he didn’t even stop and have smoko. It was heartening to see once again that the fine art of shearing was continuing to be taken up by the younger generation -

“Josh Shearing the Rams”

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This was a tricky portrait, as Josh only adopted the pose I’d chosen for a few seconds of every ram, so it ended up taking a few hours.

Afterwards I thought I’d do something with the now abandoned shearers’ quarters, but only drove a hundred yards and spotted this bucolic scene –

“Shady Characters”

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They didn’t stay still for long, as their curiosity got the better of them. Everyone's a critic.

After a relaxing beer that evening with my gracious hosts, Sally and George Faulkiner, I set out for a quick nocturne on the creek at 9pm.

“Marthaguy at Night”

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A couple of images from Haddon Rig before I leave it, from the disused shearer’s quarters and a couple of racy pics from the men’s and lady’s loo –

Flatlands 2

Flatlands 2

I arrived at nearby Billabulla early the next day to find my new hosts Kate and Rod Mildner breakfasting on bacon and eggs. I was asked if I’d like a cup of coffee, which I accepted, then was told I’d have to wait a few minutes while Rod went out and milked the cow. They farm to sustainable energy principles and move their cattle through the paddocks so they don’t get flogged out.

After Kate gave me a quick tour of the property, I thought I’d draw the spot where the 8 mile cowal meets the 5 mile cowal with the sun setting off to the left –

“Where the Cowals Meet”

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The next morning I was ready for the lagoon/wetland with the sunrise behind me –

“Early Morning, Billabulla Lagoon”

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Then I went looking for the way to the river, which, due to the dense cover of rape and hidden sinkholes, was out of my league. So I drew this instead –

“Blue and Yellow”

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I went back to the homestead for lunch, wondering what to do next, when an extended family, camped on the river, turned up, and offered to escort me. Bob Fowler with his two sons and assorted progeny were enjoying one of their frequent visits to Billabulla,

On arrival at their camp, the Fowlers were keen to get me pissed, but I managed to fend them off for an hour or so while I drew the kids on the river (‘I’m doing my job, that’s why I’m here’). They’d caught a yellowbelly the day before, encased by an enormous cod. Unable to get the yellowbelly out of the cod, they chucked them both back in. A yellowbelly succumbed as I drew the kids, but shortly afterwards the river went up a bit, from a Burrendong discharge, and the kids started pulling in carp. Burrendong Dam controls the pulse of this river.

“Jimmy, Alby, Annii and Banjo Fishing on the Macquarie at Billabulla”

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That’s Annii with two eyes.

I asked Bob how the ‘new’ owners of Billabulla compared with the ‘old’ owners from the time he lived here 50 years ago. He was quiet for a while and I thought he must be trying to frame a diplomatic comment on the unusual (organic and energetic) practices of the Mildners. Eventually he said “I reckon about 20,000% better”. I regarded this as high praise from an old bushie.

The next morning I made a short trip to Boomanulla to draw the old ram shed on the banks of the Macquarie before returning to Warren to set up for the exhibition opening at Bill Phillip’s RiverSmart Wetlands Centre –

“The Old Boomanulla Ram Shed on the Macquarie”

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I decided not to draw the outside of the shed, as I thought it would take too long (I was knackered at the end of the week). The inside took me five and a half hours.

Flatlands 3

Flatlands 3

The opening in Warren went well and there was a steady stream of visitors over the weekend. I made a point of not preparing anything to say and entertained the assembled crowd with a string of off-the cuff remarks. I was memorably asked by a young man just out of toddlerhood “Why haven’t you got any hair?” After explaining that that’s what happens sometimes when you get old and he might not have any hair one day, he said “I don’t think so”.

On Sunday we shut up shop in the afternoon and went for a two-hour paddle along the Macquarie, travelling from weir to weir in about two hours. My arms were rather unaccustomed to this form of exercise and ached a fair bit.

Bill thoroughly enjoying himself.

Downstream from Warren.

A canoe tree. They’re everywhere on the Macquarie.

On Monday I drove to Kiameron where Sue and Michael Egan ran another large mixed farming enterprise on the Macquarie. After a short tour of Sue’s stupendous garden, I started off with the old part of the homestead –

“Kiameron Homestead 1871”

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This drawing took quite some time and later on that day after I’d recovered, Sue took me up to the top of nearby Mt. Foster at sunset. I was keen to get a drawing from one of the few elevated spots in the Marshes.

“North from Mt. Foster”

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The next morning Michael took me on the Cook’s tour of their property, with the result that I didn’t get to my next drawing at the nearby Mt. Harris until noon. It was stinking hot and I huddled under the narrow shade of the surrounding hedge while I laboured.

“R.I.P. Mt. Harris Homestead 1915 – 2015”

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That’s the Egan family graveyard on top of the hill. I finished the drawing in four hours and was completely drained. I went back to Kiameron and downed a couple of beers in rapid succession.

The next morning I was knackered, but woke early and was on site before sunrise. My target was the massive new pump that Michael had shown me the day before.

“The New Chinese 26 inch Pump at Kiameron”

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The pump’s Chinese, the turbo diesel is a John Deere.

I had a nanna nap for an hour to recover from the heat, then moved inside Kiameron to tackle the family memorabilia.

“Bibs and Bobs”

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I was due back in Warren that afternoon and I reluctantly departed from the pleasures of Kiameron. The only thing crossing the road in the early morning was a lonely echidna.

I’ve got one from my childhood just like this, although a bit more dilapidated -