The Story of the Red Socks

My mother's mother is very dear to me; she is sensitive, warm and loving and we share a special bond.

When I was young girl, she told me about the day she went to school wearing red socks. When her classmates saw her in the red socks they teased her mercilessly, and being the sensitive person she is, it hurt her quite deeply. She never wore the colour red again. She was so cut by schoolyard teasing, that she let fear and low self-confidence take over and lived a life without red.

The above painting titled 'Let me hold your fears' (2006), I created with this story in mind. My nana is represented by the naked figure in the red socks, my mother is wearing the red wig, she would like to be red also holds the same fears of not being accepted, while I am the small girl in the corner, I just want to be red. I long to carry their fears for them, God knows, they've been holding themselves back for far too long. The painting and story is symbolic of all the fears we carry as Shipards and as women, not simply the colour red.

Three years down the track as I am in the midst of independent adulthood, I find myself questioning my moves, worrying about trivial things like how I dress and that I won't be accepted. I kick myself to think how much time and energy I waste worrying. Nomather how far away you go, your flaws and fears never escape you. Fortunately I have learnt from their mistakes somewhat, or at least I've know how wonderful they really are and how fabulous a colour red is on both of them.

Anybody who knows me would have picked up on my love of red, I wear it almost everyday, though I never made the connection between this story and my love of red. I love the colour, and went through a phase of collecting red objects. My mother also loves the colour and nana has began to admire the colour when she see's us sporting it. A few days ago I actually bought my first pair of red socks, and perhaps in light of my current state of worry, I shall wear the socks in public and prove to myself that there is nothing to fear. Maybe I might even buy my mother's mother a pair red socks, and tell she's beautiful and loved, and it's time to let go of her fears and wear red once more xx.

In My Room

By far one of my favourite ways to spend time, is decorating and rearranging my room and living space. I am most happy when I am surrounded by images, textiles and objects that inspire me, remind me of loved ones and special times in my life. I cannot imagine living in a space where I didn't have notirity to surround myself with inspiration, my artistic process depends on it. Above you can see textiles on my desk that I have collected from generations of crafty Shipard women, notibly in the front my mother's embroidery from primary school. In the centre of the desk is my beloved London telephone money box which is presently acting as a vase (since I don't have any suitable/like how the dried flowers look in there) to my treasured roses from the Stars concert, where the band ironically threw out roses to the audience as well as everlasting daisies collected during school cross country.

The ironic thing is that despite my decorating being quite a personal joy and process, is that I completely love looking at other peoples houses through sources like the Selby, magazines such as Frankie and Russh and homewares shops. Although I can't think of a time were I have seen something I liked through one of these sources and changed my room accordingly, however I can't deny their influence and inspiration. I believe though if you are truely going to have a space you enjoy and that brings you happiness and inspiration, it can't be contrived, it has to be yours. I admire people who manage to have a minimalist space, with beautiful and clutterless use of art, flowers and furniture, but alas my space will probably never be this refined. Mine is a mirad of colours, textures, pictures, random objects and downright crap. There are so many things I would incorperate or improve with funding, such as Florence Broadhurst wallpaper on the walls, the iconic egg chair and all the art and design books I could ever desire. Alas, that is why it is a changing space not a stagent one, as I am always finding ways to like it more xx.

"I'd like to thank..."

Like an aspiring actress performs their Academy Awards acceptance speech in front of the TV, I too have a dream. Everyone has a dream; or if they don't it is because they do not have fully realized interests. Mine, as a lover of all things artistic, is to one day win the Archibald Prize, the prestigious Australian Portrait Prize that has been keeping the art of portraiture alive in Australia since 1921.  

Abbey Mcculloch (work featured above) is a young artist from the Gold Coast who gained exposure in the first three issues of dearest Frankie Magazine.  She is now in her second year of the finals for the Archibald Prize, a most deserving winner if you ask me.  Best of luck Abbey, if you win, it means there is hope for me too! My fingers and toes are crossed for you xx.