Sunday 21 April 2024

About One Boy And The Other Boy Who Lived...

Life can often be described as a bittersweet symphony. Tragedy and comedy. Swings and roundabouts. The rough with the smooth...

Between 1987 and 1991, I had three sons. Christopher was born on 18 April 1987. A feisty and cranky little premature scrap of humanity, he survived crisis after crisis before succumbing on 5 June on that year. Never leaving Neonates at the Children's' Hospital (then PMH), he fought so hard to stay alive. Some babies die. 

Devastation doesn't even come close to what I perceived as failure. I desperately sought redemption to carry and deliver a healthy baby to hold and cherish.

Getting pregnant was never an issue for me. Within two months of Christopher's death, I was carrying identical twins. Unfortunately, my stars in the night sky, Zoe and Melanie were both stillborn in January 1988. My self-belief was once again severely shaken. I felt that God had totally deserted me. To try again or not? We decided to have one last roll of the dice.

After an emotionally traumatic and difficult pregnancy, Callum Timothy was born - prematurely of course - on 14 April 1989. Noel French, our superb and caring Neonatologist, fought to keep Callum from being ventilated during his first twelve hours of life. This complication would have led to Callum being transferred to the Children's Hospital, and Noel, knowing my history, was determined not to separate Callum from me. He won. Callum was pink, roaring and he lived.

He became the happiest baby, thriving after a slightly dodgy start. He smiled with his whole body, always delighting in our presence. Callum provided me with the unconditional love that I needed, just by being himself. I absolutely adored him from his birth. Callum's personality and development were both ridiculously routine, which gave me endless hope as his very anxious mother.

Alex Christopher, named after his brother, was born on 11 April 1991. Whilst in utero, Alex was diagnosed with a very complex heart defect, similar to Christopher's right sided heart lesion. If Alex had been born twenty years earlier, his survival would have been very unlikely. With advances in paediatric cardiology, babies who may have had a terminal diagnosis were living - not just only into childhood but into adulthood.

Tricuspid Atresia, previously a killer of infants, was subdued by a Fontan Procedure, essentially a palliative surgery that bypasses the right side of Alex's heart. This was a three stage operative sequence beginning when Alex was eight weeks old and culminating just after he turned three. Alex became The Boy Who Lived.

An undiagnosed stroke after the second stage of the Fontan Procedure, plus his Autism diagnosis defined his early childhood. All the tubes inside Alex's head were narrow, resulting in multiple surgical interventions to remedy those issues. These were often very traumatic events as Alex was non-verbal until he was four years old. His Acquired Brain Injury (only confirmed by MRI when he was thirty years old) added processing and language deficits to those that he was already experiencing through his Autism Spectrum Disorder. He also developed physical disabilities as a result of the stroke - right sided weakness, low muscle tone, scoliosis and foot abnormalities.

Alex is our Autistic Superstar. He turned thirty - three ten days ago. He approaches his life with optimism, cheerfulness and gusto. He attends a gym with physiotherapy support and has an active social life.  He is surrounded by an excellent allied health team and his Support Co-ordinator at Alinea, which also manages the Paraquad Cafe, Alex's workplace three days every week. He has fantastic specialists who monitor his asthma and ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat) issues. He has been with the same GP since he was six years old. His neurologist may not have the greatest of bedside manners, but he has provided us with significant information about Alex's ABI. He is under the care of the Adult Congenital Heart Disease Unit for his long-term cardiac monitoring. I am so bloody proud of my lad.

Callum's life has not been handed to him on a plate either. A bright and inquisitive child, he blossomed at daycare, which was just as well as he spent much of his early years there whilst Alex was attending appointments with me or in hospital. Junior primary school still met his needs. However, upper primary and high school were both incredibly tough for him. He was harassed by bullies, so much so that I became beyond exasperated with the private Catholic school he attended until Year 10. The public school that I chose to move him was not totally ideal - just somewhat better. What saved Callum's well-being was his ballroom dancing family - ever constant and non-judgmental. Then, at university, he rediscovered his social status.

Fast forward to 2024. Callum turned thirty-five on 14 April. He is a Performing Arts Specialist teacher at a large northern suburbs primary school. Happily married to the gorgeous Bronwyn, they are the parents of our two divine granddaughters - Imogen and Violet. Immy started kindy this year. Violet has just turned one. These four members of our immediate family are just so adored. We are very lucky to have this wonderful foursome in our orbit.

My two boys fill me with delight and pride. They have both overcome immense challenges to prosper as themselves. I could not be happier as they continue forging their lives with confidence and enthusiasm. 

How lucky am I...

 
Alex learning to surf...

 
Paraquad employee of the year 2022...

 
With his fantastic support worker, Pascal...

 
At the Warehouse Cafe in Shenton Park...

 
On the counter at the Warehouse Cafe...

 
Alex is an uncle - December 2019...

 
At his Dad's wedding with his brother Callum and sister-in-law Bron...

 
Callum at eight months...

 
Cal at nine years of age...

 
Cal at 21....

 
Latin dancing star...

 
With Bron...

 
With some random old fart - March 2024.

 


Sunday 24 March 2024

The RETURN Of My GOOD HUMOUR!

I had the need...the need to vent spleen. Like a dummy-spitting Joan of Arc, I mounted my High Horse of Righteous Indignation to launch a withering diatribe at the unfairness of the Universe. Joan and I were joined at the Hip of Time and Space, a valiant Crusade against the Bad Guys, whilst being shafted by the Good Guys. With a virtual Rod of Fury shoved firmly up my arse, I railed against the injustice of our still limited presence in Western Australia's art community and venues. What did I actually want? I wanted more buck for all my banging of course...

I wise friend took courage in hand and suggested I was chucking a "sad". Initially, I was mildly outraged that I might have been thoroughly milking a "woe is me" moment. Then, naturally, I cooled down and considered my outrage and her measured response. Wise woman, she is...

The East End Gallery and Giftshop has been our Labour of Love. We chose quite deliberately to follow our vision. We bought a broken down building in a great location on Beverley's main drag. Did we have any idea what we had done? Absolutely not. Did Michael envisage being covered with dirt, dust, rat pooh, fretting plaster and broken bricks for four and a half years? Definitely not. Did our money come to a screaming halt with our entire project unrealised? Yep! Have we still built the dream of an inclusive Gallery and Giftshop on tireless enthusiasm and boundless passion? You bet we have.

Which means I really can't complain. If trying to raise more revenue means changing our style, charging our artists and artisans to be part of  the Gallery and raising our commission, that is not going to happen. I could no more be a Stuffed Shirt Front-of-House than enter a Silent Order. Michael could become very disciplined and carefully timetable his creativity. We could set up a Rigid Regime of workshops and have him teaching welding for art with me in the background wielding the whip.

Bollocks to that. We are definite about who we are and what we want. We promote and support artists who have a connection to the Wheatbelt or to us. We share their hopes and dreams. We know their stories. The End.

So, what prompted my blast of momentary misery and aggrieved anger? Misplaced jealousy and envy. That we have a thoroughly unfair and unequal share of art dollars flowing in our direction. My pragmatic socialist views were being booted out the window. My God, I had turned into a greedy Capitalist!

This cathartic journey of self discovery has appealed to my sense of the ridiculous. Stuff money. I am sure that if we ever were really against the financial wall, we could prevail. Somehow, we always manage to produce enough funds out of our bums to pay the insurance and rates. We have teetered of the edge of ruin more than I'd like to admit. Knowing that cash is going to materialise to pay for essentials would be nice, but much more boring!

Now I shall cease to behave like a despicable despot (think Jabba the Hutt), climb down from my soapbox and have yet another cup of tea.

And I have made a new resolution today. I am going to embrace my curves, rather than shudder at them. I accept me, I accept my beloved Michael, I accept the East End Gallery and I accept what will be.

Stay tuned!

 

 
Who said I needed a megaphone?

 
And boy, did I let rip!

 
Like Joan of Arc on her horse...

 
With a rod of fury up my arse!

 
Where's the vino?!

 
Can't say I could become a Stuffed Shirt or a nun. I run off at the mouth far too often!

 

 
Bugger all these beliefs...

 
Absolutely...

 
Hence the "Sad"...

 
I temporarily morphed into an unpleasant creature...


 Until I had a cathartic light bulb moment!


Friday 22 March 2024

This Is An Impassioned Plea From The East End Gallery

I try not to give way to histrionics very often, at least not through my written words. I pride myself on being positive, ever optimistic, pragmatic and accepting. What I actually say out loud, particularly when I am frustrated or angry or disappointed, has the capacity to make even me blush.

I have spent this week revitalising the East End Gallery and Giftshop once more. We have welcomed another new artist and accepted new works from existing artists. The East End Gallery resembles the TARDIS. With one hundred and fifty square metres of art space, we always are able to squeeze in just one more piece, just one most talented individual looking for any recognition. We don't have to seek artists out; they come to us. We pride ourselves on being the most welcoming and inclusive art space we can be.

Unfortunately, our joy and our passion aren't enough anymore. We have been playing this game for over nine years. We have always run at a loss. We have begged and borrowed and scratched for funds to pay for the building insurance and the rates and the utilities. Forget maintenance and paid advertising. They don't even enter the equation. We just don't have the money.

We are constantly being praised for having an eclectic Gallery, a beautiful Gallery, an exciting Gallery. We have striven to provide a fantastic experience for our guests. We offer a chance to see Michael in his Studio. We offer welding tuition for creating art. We have tried Artists' Play Days. We have set up artisan demonstrations. We hold Sundowners. We have tried and failed with a website, because the web designer deserted us. I am on social media - Facebook and Instagram on a daily basis. I write this blog. Our monthly newsletter has over four hundred and seventy contacts on the mailing list. What else can I do to promote our Gallery and Giftshop and attempt to give us some sort of income?

Beverley is not Fremantle or Yallingup or Margaret River or Albany. But the East End Gallery and Giftshop also does not have the Fremantle or Yallingup or Margaret River or Albany prices for our displayed artworks. We have affordable prices. We believe that everybody, regardless of their financial circumstances, should be able to own a piece of original art. 

Our latest endeavour is a "Celebration", which hopefully will be held on Friday 3 May from 6 - 8pm in the East End Gallery. We plan to have this event catered, provide decent beverages and encourage our supporters to attend and purchase art from our artists. The RSVP date is currently 3 April, so we can give our caterers (local of course) the numbers. To date, we are looking at no more than fifteen responses.

We can't run the "Celebration" with under thirty attendees. We can't keep operating the East End Gallery and Giftshop without adequate numeration. If we close our doors, over one hundred artists and artisans will lose a home. We can't keep afloat on the sniff of an oily rag.

Please give us a chance to impress and RSVP for our "Celebration" by 3 April.

An artist we know reasonably well has two Galleries in successful tourism spots in Perth. He is a lovely chap. He also had a sizable (to us) profit last year. We would give our back teeth to have a fraction of his profit. We are so tired of this financial hand-to-mouth existence.

Our local non-for-profit Gallery has had a recent plug through the print media. I contacted ABC 720 after listening to a rundown of a suburban open studios in Perth. They didn't even respond to my e-mail...

We survive on pensions and the consistent rent of one shop. We currently provide lodging in an en-suite room in our house to an elderly gentlemen, but we are parting company in two weeks. We have absolutely no guarantee of securing another suitable tenant. We both have health conditions that dislike the cold, hence we try and head north for at least part of each winter in our battered 1997 A-liner. Which of course needs repairs.

The solution? We need our supporters to do just that - support us. We needs those who can to buy the art from our artists to do so. We want to believe our networking will be successful - that those with an eye for interesting or the different or the tantilising or the engaging will turn their vehicles to the East for ninety minutes rather than three or four hours hours to the South or South West.

Please keep our dream alive for us and our artists at the East End Gallery. Come and buy art.

And because this is what I do, week in, week out, here are the latest photographs from our beloved Gallery and Giftshop, taken this evening...

 
Sculpture by Michael Sofoulis
Oils by Lorraine Pichugin...

 
Watercolours by Val Burns...

 
Fabric and feathers by Kira Thompson...

 
Cards, soaps and oils...

 
Northern Giftshop wall...

 
Giftshop goodies...

 
Acrylics by Shirley Gillis
Eco printing by 

 
More Giftshop treasures...

 
Whatever you can envisage, we think we have the answer...

 
Dorothy Lullfitz...

 
Cloches, brooches, pottery, a skull and octopi...

 
Photos by Anna Harris
Pottery by Jan Cross...

 
Need a present for that special somebody? Find an original item at the East End Gallery and Giftshop...

 
Dorothy Lullfitz...

 
Brian Aylward...

 
From the Giftshop to the Gallery...

 
Marri resin, ink and watercolour by Irene Perry...

 
A curtain of Irene Perry pendants...

 
Upcycling by Ian Kay and Michael Sofoulis...

 
Jess Spring and Michael Sofoulis...

 
Paintings, mosaic and metal...

 
A touch of French brandy by Mark Price...

 
Kimberley scenery by Mark Price...

 
"The Blues"...

Gallery view...


 
Gallery Eastern wall...

 
Jane Gates and her fantastically whimsical artworks -

 

 
Last view of the East End Gallery... for now...