Of Goats and Visions

Fern the Goat - watercolour c2006

What vision can we hold for the future? This is a really important question to consider in such tumultuous times. Two paintings I did of our milking goats twenty years ago, remind me that we can become architects of our world, although the building may take a little time to complete.

I was reminded of this favourite goat painting I did the other day when I came across a video on Instagram. Climate economist Sage Lenier was talking about how we are living in a “rare moment in history” when “all of a sudden the future is no longer something to be inherited, it is a story to be written”.

“We need to be very visionary, very brave and very rigorous about putting forward blueprints into how we want the world to look” ~ Sage Lenier (@sagelenier)

Twenty years ago my world looked very different. I lived in a mudbrick house we had built in a eucalypt forest in the high country of northeast Victoria. We had a huge vegetable garden, chickens, bees and milking goats.

You could say we lived in the land of milk and honey. Everything seemed perfect, yet when I sat on the verandah and looked out over the hills, it was the smell and sound of the beach that I was craving.

One of of the exercises in Julia Cameron’s book, The Artists Way is to imagine what a perfect day would look like; how would it feel, smell and taste.

I remember writing down that a perfect day for me would be to wake up, have breakfast, walk through French doors to a flower filled patio, then go for a swim at the beach. I would ride my bike and go for a walk, make art in a beautiful light filled studio and after lunch sit in the sunshine and read a book.

This all seemed impossible from where I lived on top of a mountain in the middle of winter.

Yet here I am twenty years later and that is (almost) exactly my reality. I ride my bike and go for a swim at the beach, work in my sunny studio and have the time to read books. I eventually got French doors in my studio, although they open to the passageway and not the patio.

How did I get here? I knew that in order for this to happen it would mean leaving the farm, leaving the goats, moving somewhere near a beach, possibly one near a lighthouse. I was at TAFE studying visual art, very nervous about painting. We had to create a painting that was personal so I started painting our goats.

The first painting (below) was inspired by the lighthouse and beach cove at Yamba, a bit south of where we now live. This was a bit too literal. The painting teacher told me to ‘loosen up’. I created the ghost like image of my favourite milking goat, Fern.

I still love that painting. It reminds me of all the small actions that needed to be taken in order for my perfect day in the future to become a reality. Now when I create art, I put my visions into my work, bringing the spirit of place into the present to birth the future.

What kind of blueprint do I want to continue creating now? One of peace, of harmony with the earth, one where First Nations voices are heard and their connections to country can inform our way of relating to nature. One where logging old growth forests is illegal, where fossil fuels are replaced by sustainable clean and renewable energy.

I know this sounds like a big wish list, but every small step I can take in my life can work towards making this vision a reality. The goat paintings remind me to start somewhere. This year I’m starting with helping protect our forests and trees.

Fern the goat on the Yamba headland, c 2006.