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Abbey Jean MacDonald |
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Effie Pryer, Montrose
I wanted this painting to reflect more than just one person’s experience of growing up. The subject of this portrait has just pointed out that although he’s in it, it’s mostly about me (he doesn’t mind). He’s right. Michael has just started his first full-time job and it reflects awkwardly on my own unemployed, directionless, student lifestyle. I unintentionally incorporated plenty of admiration, a bit of jealousy and a lot of anxiety into an image of Michael’s balancing act between youth and adulthood. Not that he handles a working lifestyle as nonchalantly as he likes to make out. His first pay slip was proudly tacked to the fridge door. He later admitted that there wasn’t anything he wanted to spend his money on; eventually, he bought a slot car track. Here he hangs from a bar, reminiscent of the monkey bars I was an ace at climbing, in his underpants and work socks. Michael allegorically (and literally) balances between maturity and childish glee, composure and abandon, life and work. From my perspective, he also wavers between the adult world of superannuation and mortgages, and that of monkey bars and slot cars that I’d often rather stay in. Belle, Michael’s beagle, represents the frivolity of childhood that I fear to lose. I remember getting into the car on a cold school morning and glancing back at my pet cat sitting smugly in the window, wishing I was a cat so I didn’t have to go to school. Yet the cat was there waiting when I got home. Belle replaces my first idea, an office chair, which was sterile and depressing. I find her cheery presence comforting instead. The result is an optimistic image that I hope conveys the idea that facing the adult world isn’t so bad with someone (however furry) to welcome you home again.
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