I have the privilege of doing an art exhibition with my Dad next month. Here is a photo of us, pointing at you, inviting you to come.
Our show, called EXCUSES, is at the Honeybones gallery in Melbourne, Naam. Opening night is July 17th, and you can RSVP HERE! The show will also be open over the weekend for you to come and peruse, bask, gently called back to your own creativity.
I am trying to use my words to describe what a special thing it is to do something so vulnerable, so magical with your own parent - but I cannot find them.
Instead, I would love to invite you to read an interview between us. I asked my papa, Stephen McNee, a series of questions. And then he did so in return! My Papa’s answers / responses are always in orange.
Do you remember the first time you realised you might be an artist?
Well, yes I do actually - Year 5 at school art class was 2 hours on a friday , Mr Capstick the teacher was quite laid back so while many of the kids took it for time off to muck around - I was engaged - and when he took me through using oil paint - I was in! The feel of the palette knife sold me - it didn’t have to be perfect - lots of colour - I wanted to be Arthur Streeton reborn!
What did creativity look like in your house growing up? Was it encouraged, dismissed, ignored?
Well, hahahahahahaha! Focus was on pragmatic, practical outcomes, very little dialogue on what was liked. I would have loved to do piano but I don’t think an 11 year old can arrange that without some support … and a piano! Poetry was ridiculed at home and at school - it was taught like French for the Math inhibited Physicist. We were allowed to do some copper enamelling for a bit! Flames, and hot metal - no worries!! I accumulated a photography kit and pursued that in later teens - sadly it was not considered a real pursuit for my parents. My Dads’ motto was ‘perfection is nearly good enough’ - I presume he got that from his own dad, so art and poetry were never really going to feature in my childhood.
Was there a version of you that wanted to be an artist when you were young? What happened to him?
Well, yes the young boy wearing an Orange striped shirt who loved paints and photography. He saw things in a different way - he loved collage, chopping things up and gluing them in a new way. He’d have done those things all day. I didn’t have any mentoring to discuss what a creative future might be - I was only told about the practical need to have a job that earns and a degree to attain that job. So orange striped shirt Steve was buried. ‘His art was only going to be very average’ - do the right thing , obey parents. My mother wanted a Uni graduate - so off we went, Accounting Finance and Systems and the inevitable train crash!
What excuses do you think were passed down to you?
Well, Must have a Money making secure job, ‘how are you going to buy clothes’ and put food on the table? My art was only ever gong to be average. Poetry is ridiculous.
When you had your own family, did you consciously try to do creativity differently with your own children (me!) ?
Well, yes! My wife, Kath a gifted primary school teacher meant we were very aligned on having pens papers paints around! I hope there was lots of opportunity to have creative play - cubbyhouse, make the fish tank the thames by putting all the broken cups in it etc. We saw education as our joy and responsibly, school might help - but it wasn’t the only part of education. Breadth of experience was key. Music, Art, Drama and sport and English and History and and and … so you could discover what you enjoyed and what you were good at - I had a bad school experience, so my drive was to try and deliver a good one for you!
What did it feel like to watch me pursue the arts with the kind of hunger you might not have been allowed to have?
Well, that was always the plan young one….heehee! Delight! Delight Delight
What is your current most potent excuse ?
Well, No formal training jumps into my brain - i don’t have all the arty language correct - I actually don’t want it as I feel it would restrict me, so maybe later… Also ‘What I do is a bit weird and bespoke’ - so it’s not photography, it’s not painting - so how can it be art? That is mad to read written down but the story lives comfortably within my head.
What do you think I inherited from you creatively?
Well, The radar for identifying when things are wrong, the radar for seeing people, the joy in creating, and sometimes the joy in the imperfect result, the beauty in possibilities… mmmmm relishing the feeling the wind on your face…
What do you think you have inherited back from me?
Well, that’s a big list: What others think is irrelevant, changing myself to ignore those projected views. Working to see what may be done, not what the world says must be done. The putting aside time to create. Laying aside goals when creating - just create. A belief that art can change the world - all that remains is art, art is emotion, art is a fixed piece of time that brings us all definition - truth love, brokenness, hope, tomorrow - a bumble bee in flight.
It’s not a competition - it’s not a nil sum game, of victor and conquered. I think many, many would hate this view - but I want to exit the world where winning is the only goal - defeating others with disregard to all others. Art is not sport or politics or war. We need to encourage each other and sit and marvel.
Do you think men of your generation were allowed to be creatively vulnerable?
Well, No - Definitely no vulnerability, no emotions other than anger and lust allowed. The need to protect yourself and your loved ones takes control and set the rules.
I found release in gardening - gardening was allowed. Art I did in private, secret.
What has art given you access to in yourself?
Well, huge healing in who I am , my feet now feel the ground again, it expands me way beyond the working employee, I am searching and painting the evening mist, chasing the stars at my finger tips. It gives me access to more emotional maturity - separation from others agendas. It allows me to be me.
What do you hope people feel when they see your work?
Well, I hope they have to double take. I hope they really see each piece, emotionally. I hope they feel the joy in the creation, a sense of ahh I didn’t see it like that at first! I hope they feel the bigness of our world - oh the places we shall go. I hope they see the delight in a back street of no importance. I hope they realise there there is beauty in all things.
One thing that has fascinated me since you were tiny is your ability to sense other’s emotions, what they’re feeling and thinking. Can you tell me about your ‘radar’? What does it feel like? Is it perhaps why parties and groups are exhausting - so much data?
I feel like I genuinely have another sense. I can feel the slightest shift in someone’s emotional state. It is an remarkable thing to experience but I am also learning that I have honed this ‘skill’ to give myself a feeling of safety. As I get older, I have realised that I only feel safe if everyone around me is emotionally stable. So whilst I genuinely deeply care about the wellbeing of my beloveds, I am trying to teach myself that I am safe when others around me are not good. It is hard! It is almost certainly why I hate large groups, gatherings, parties, there is too much input, and I cannot monitor everyone at one time! (But nor should I have to!)
Do you have a Favourite colour - if you can share that?
Oh I don’t know if I can share that here. That’s a little personal, Papa.
How has your Amie radar helped your writing novels? Writing we need your art? working with artists??
For fiction, noticing the minutiae of people’s internal worlds in real life has allowed me to create characters that have a lot going on. I want them to feel like you know them, that they are real people who are filled with all the complexities of you and me.
For my work with artists and creatives, it is supremely useful. I know when you’re fucking with me. I can smell perfectionism from a mile off. I know when you are desperately excited about a project, but trying to squish it down because it is also frightening you. I SEE you Creator!
I think you also have the gift of Gravity - not the weighty gravity - but the orbital facets of gravity - your ability to stand just close enough to influence, to pull in the right direction. You don’t push. You simply stand close enough that they begin believing something different about themselves.
This was a fucking lovely thing to read about myself, especially from my Papa. I am a person of deep conviction, perhaps this is part of what you are talking about. I know where I am going and what I want. I know I am here to create. I am here to delight. I am here to play. Every day I know it more. Perhaps it is this knowing that feels a little bit gravity-y.
You’ve woven together so many seemingly unrelated threads, English, history, drama, the gym, love notes, conversations, books, people. Most collect individual interests, you seem to weave them into one tapestry, tell me about that?!
If it is something Amie loves, they are connected. They are weaved together through the weird and magical thing that is Amie. I am the link. The one who loves all those things. They live together in me! My body is their home, where they cohabitate together, joyfully. I do not believe in Niching down. I believe I am the niche!
You were onstage a lot as a kid, what was it about you and the stage?
I love to tell stories!! I am sure that is the main drive. I also love attention, I love to inhabit the other. I love to pretend. I love to imagine. I love to tell stories with someone else! The shared delusion, the flow state with another creative, there is so much magic in performance. The only thing I didn’t love about acting is that it is so often done at night … I like to go to bed by 9 at the latest.
Where do your love notes come from?
All my love notes are notes for me first. I have never written a note I didn’t need. I often get asked where they come from, and how I make so many, the answer is: I create every day, and so I am faced with resistance, confusion, delight, overwhelm every day. The loves notes are a map of my own journey and the things I have navigated. I am so honoured to share them and to know the resonate with other’s too.
I’d told you that rooms would one day be full of people because of your words and your art… what do you think little Amie would have said?
I think five year old Amie would’ve been amazed I was writing books.
I think thirteen year old me might’ve been bummed out I wasn’t on stage.
I know 19 year old Amie would’ve been in awe.
I know 26 year old Amie would’ve fucking wept with joy. I am doing exactly what I want to do, and that is such an incredible thing to be able to say.
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