"Vale Diana"

“Vale Diana”

Kerry Wright, 1997

Oils on Canvas

120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

My tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales, painted shortly after her death.

"Tehuti Transcendent"

“Tehuti Transcendent”

Kerry Wright, 1997

Oils on Canvas

210cm x 120cm (7ft x 4ft)

To be gay back in the 1980s and 1990s was to live in constant terror of falling victim to a disease that would lead to an agonizing, disfiguring and premature death. We all became familiar with such exotic and bizarre expressions as “seroconvert”, a euphemism for “your death warrant has been signed and your execution imminent”. And we came to know all about “T-cells” and how many one should possess in order to survive. It was a time of considerable anxiety and of great sorrow. Many bright and beautiful young lives, filled to overflowing with exuberance and hope and promise and love, were snuffed out prematurely throughout that sad time.

In 1994 an excellent, albeit distressing and tragically poignant exhibition was held at the National Gallery of Australia. It was titled “Don’t Leave Me This Way – Art in the Age of AIDS”. After visiting the exhibition, I was inspired to create artwork of my own featuring the issue of living in a time when plague had descended upon the land.

In this large work, “Tehuti Transcendent”,  I have drawn upon my background in calligraphy to create a swirling vortex of gyrating calligraphic lines surrounding a central crucible within the painting’s composition, in which a portal has opened. From within that portal, a feather has emerged. Attached to the feather is a standard parcel label onto which is inscribed the letter “T” in calligraphic script. The “T” stands for “T-cells”. The more T-cells you have, the more likely it is that you will survive. The tag is tied to the feather with a red AIDS ribbon. The feather floats arbitrarily upon the thermals within the vortex, signifying randomly whether its victims will live when it rises or perish when it descends.

The title of the painting, “Tehuti Transcendent”, relates to the ibis-headed, ancient Egyptian god, Tehuti (aka Thoth). Tehuti is significantly a lunar deity with a highly complex cult. He has many titles, attributes and functions. For the purpose of this painting, however, he is specifically referred to as the god who gave the gift of hieroglyphs (calligraphy) to the ancient Egyptians. It also relates to his capacity to act as intermediary between life and death, good and evil, this world and the next, and thus transcending each.

“Tehuti Transcendent” was entered in the Sulman Prize in 1998, but not chosen for hanging.

"Ave Atque Vale" (Hail & Farewell)

“Ave Atque Vale” 

(Hail & Farewell)

Kerry Wright, 1995

Oils on Canvas

120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

I painted “Ave Atque Vale” (Hail and Farewell) shortly after the death of my dear friend, Andy. Andy was a fun-loving, active, out-there kinda guy, with a stereotypically Italian exuberance and love of life. We met not long after he relocated to Australia from his home town of Vicenza in Italy’s Veneto region, not far from Venice. We soon became firm friends. It was the 1970s and we were both in our 20s. In a gay scene not then known for its macho role models, Andy really did stand out from the crowd with his handsome, smouldering Italian good looks and genuinely unaffected masculine demeanour. Heads would literally turn when he entered a room and he had no trouble in winning hearts all over town. Whilst studying to become a registered nurse at Sydney’s Mater Misericordiae Hospital, he took on part-time work at the Midnight Shift bar located within Sydney’s gay ghetto. I can still so vividly picture him behind the bar, surrounded by a clutch of effete, giggling admirers, all fluttering their eyelashes in his direction, in an endeavour to capture his attention. It was probably during this period of Andy’s life, in the early 1980s, that he seroconverted. Following graduation, he worked as a registered nurse at various health facilities throughout Australia, before ultimately succumbing to the virus in November 1993. His ashes were subsequently returned to his family in Italy.  I wanted to paint a picture dedicated to Andy and this image emerged as I set about that task. The figure depicted is intended to represent Andy’s spiritual essence at the time of his death and does not bear any physical resemblance to him as he appeared in life. In the execution of this work, I was inspired significantly by Kahlil Gibran’s beautiful words:

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?” 

"Ave Atque Vale" (Detail)

“Ave Atque Vale” (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1995

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

See original above.

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

Kerry Wright, 1994

Oils on Canvas

210cm x 120cm (7ft x 4ft)

Mother Inferior. Mother Abyss. Sister Venus de Lilo. Sister Volupta. They are all one and the same person, for they are all aliases of the one and only, singularly unique, notoriously flamboyant, stigmatically joyous male nun, Fabian LoSchiavo. A founding member of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in Sydney, Fabian was for many years a larger than life, instantly recognizable presence on the Sydney gay scene. He has since withdrawn from public life. When I painted his portrait in 1994, however, he was at the height of his fame and notoriety. I was looking for a celebrity personality to paint, for entry into Sydney’s Archibald Prize portraiture competition. The terms of the Archibald bequest stipulate that participating artists should paint the portrait of someone who has distinguished him/herself in public life. Fabian fitted the bill perfectly! The Archibald Prize is Australia’s most prestigious art prize. It is awarded annually by a panel of trustees appointed under the terms of the Archibald bequest. They are notoriously ruthless in their selections, eliminating the vast majority of entrants each year and only choosing a select number of portraits they consider suitable for hanging. Their choices are often contentious (“My five-year-old kid paints better than that!”) and invariably hit the headlines in Australia. Disgruntled applicants have been known to bring legal action against the trustees in the past (“That’s not a portrait, it’s a caricature!”). Alas, Fabian’s portrait did not impress the stuffy trustees, who deemed it to be not worthy of inclusion in the exhibition. I can’t imagine why!  All was not lost, however, for the painting was included in the Out Art Exhibition that year, as part of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Cultural Festival. The opening night was a glittering occasion with the resplendently attired Fabian in attendance, where he held court at the foot of his portrait for the duration of the evening.

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI" (Detail)

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1994

Oils on Canvas

Original 210cm x 120cm (7ft x 4ft)

Mother Inferior. Mother Abyss. Sister Venus de Lilo. Sister Volupta. They are all one and the same person, for they are all aliases of the one and only, singularly unique, notoriously flamboyant, stigmatically joyous male nun, Fabian LoSchiavo. A founding member of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in Sydney, Fabian was for many years a larger than life, instantly recognizable presence on the Sydney gay scene. He has since withdrawn from public life. When I painted his portrait in 1994, however, he was at the height of his fame and notoriety. I was looking for a celebrity personality to paint, for entry into Sydney’s Archibald Prize portraiture competition. The terms of the Archibald bequest stipulate that participating artists should paint the portrait of someone who has distinguished him/herself in public life. Fabian fitted the bill perfectly! The Archibald Prize is Australia’s most prestigious art prize. It is awarded annually by a panel of trustees appointed under the terms of the Archibald bequest. They are notoriously ruthless in their selections, eliminating the vast majority of entrants each year and only choosing a select number of portraits they consider suitable for hanging. Their choices are often contentious (“My five-year-old kid paints better than that!”) and invariably hit the headlines in Australia. Disgruntled applicants have been known to bring legal action against the trustees in the past (“That’s not a portrait, it’s a caricature!”). Alas, Fabian’s portrait did not impress the stuffy trustees, who deemed it to be not worthy of inclusion in the exhibition. I can’t imagine why!  All was not lost, however, for the painting was included in the Out Art Exhibition that year, as part of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Cultural Festival. The opening night was a glittering occasion with the resplendently attired Fabian in attendance, where he held court at the foot of his portrait for the duration of the evening.

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

Preliminary Study

Full Face

by Kerry Wright, 1994

Indian ink and charcoal on cartridge paper

Preliminary drawing executed prior to completion of the final work in oils on canvas.

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

Preliminary Study

Three-quarter Face

by Kerry Wright, 1994

Indian ink and charcoal on cartridge paper

Preliminary drawing executed prior to completion of the final work in oils on canvas.

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

"Mother M. Fabian LoSchiavo, OPI"

Preliminary Study

Left Profile

by Kerry Wright, 1994

Indian ink and charcoal on cartridge paper

Preliminary drawing executed prior to completion of the final work in oils on canvas.

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

Detail from my 1992 painting, "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa", revealing an image of my mother and I in the form of a devotional holy card of the Madonna & Child, secreted within the composition of the painting. The original photograph, from which this image comes, was taken in 1954 and can be viewed here:

 http://kerryoz.blogspot.com/2011/05/mum-me-1954.html

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

Detail from my 1992 painting, "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa", revealing an image of the Regina Caeli (Queen of Heaven) in the form of a devotional holy card, secreted within the composition of the painting. 

"Portrait of David" (Detail)

“Portrait of David” (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

Scroll down for original.

"Portrait of David"

“Portrait of David”

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

This portrait of my friend, David, was painted during a particularly turbulent period of my life. My mother had died the previous November and an all-enveloping cloud of deepest mourning and grief had descended upon me. I had been very close to my mother and I felt her loss acutely. Incomprehensibly, into my disconsolate state at that time swaggered David’s immutably laconic presence. We first met through a mutual friend in early 1991, not long after Mum had been diagnosed with inoperable, terminal cancer. I was in a deep state of despair, though I managed to function cheerfully when in my mother’s company and we had many happy times together in the final months of her life. David was everything that I was not. He worked as a tradesman and was from Sydney’s outer western suburbs. He was nine years my junior. He was confident in a cocky sort of way, with a decidedly contagious joie de vivre about him. He was a tonic. But there was also a dark side to his personality. On the night I painted his portrait, he gave me a small piece of blotting paper with a little printed image of a robot on it. I didn’t know what it was, but he assured me it would lift my spirits. “Put it on your tongue and let it dissolve,” David told me. I knew nothing of drugs. For a man in his forties, I was decidedly naïve about them. So when the LSD began to seize me, I had no idea what was happening. Initially I slunk into a corner and stared into space. But then, for no conceivable reason, I rushed to my easel, grabbed some paints and brushes, and started to paint David’s portrait. David soon grew tired of such esoteric pursuits and departed, leaving me to finish the portrait alone, working on into the wee small hours of the night with a manic intensity. I never really have fully recovered from my beloved mother’s death. I was sitting by her bed, holding her hand, at the moment of her death. And I know that she will be sitting by my bed, holding my hand, when my turn comes. David’s portrait presently hangs in his home in Sydney, Australia.

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa"

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa"

Kerry Wright, 1990

Oils and Conte Pastels on Canvas

90cm x 60cm (3ft x 2ft)

This painting utilizes a similar style to that of the previously posted "Portrait of Geri", albeit minus any pronounced Modigliani manifestations. Certainly, however, the influence of ecclesiastical stained-glass is most prominently present. Which is probably appropriate, given the subject matter. In contrast to my previous depiction of Saint Teresa's tryst with the arrow-wielding angel, this rendering of the same incident is executed in a lollypop palette of manic intensity. The saint's demeanour, with her panting mouth and head slumped sensuously backwards, again focuses on the carnal aspect of the encounter. The angel has been metamorphosed into a bent, blood-red beam of light.

This is the first painting I sold. I was working in a particularly gay-friendly environment at the time and, confronted with a starkly empty wall above my desk, thought it entirely appropriate to fill it with a painting of larger-than-life, high-camp imagery such as this. It appeared to be appreciated favourably by my predominantly female colleagues. When one of those same colleagues was given a promotion, meaning she would be leaving our office, she asked me if she could purchase the painting from me. As I have since lost contact with her, I am unable to reproduce a clearer image at this time. What appears here is a scan of a hardcopy photograph of the painting, taken for my records before it went to its new home.

"Portrait of Geri"

"Portrait of Geri"

Kerry Wright, 1987

Oils & Conte Pastels on Canvas 

90cm x 60cm (3ft x 2ft)

In the mid-1980s, I felt the urge to return to my roots in traditional studio portrait painting. However, because I was just then emerging from an intense abstract expressionist period, I was reluctant to return entirely to the strict discipline of the regimental studio portrait. Exploring new and exciting ways in which to do so was my challenge. I had always loved the sublime portraits of the tragic Italian painter, Amedeo Modigliani, so I guess it's not entirely surprising that my new technique was somewhat reminiscent of his contemplative, idiosyncratically introspective style. It must have been a subliminal influence, however, because I was most certainly not aware of it when I painted this portrait. It wasn't until when the painting was exhibited, shortly following its completion, that I started to get comments about how Modiglianiesque it was. Not that I would ever put myself in a class with such a towering genius as Modigliani, but certainly his influence is present here. The other blatantly obvious influence is that of stained glass. Institutionalised religion's insidious presence was never far from my psyche in those days.

"Paranoid Self Portrait"

"Paranoid Self Portrait"

Kerry Wright, 1983

Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

In case the image itself fails to convey an adequately definitive indication of what this disturbingly tormented self-portrait is attempting to portray, the title should provide the appropriate indisputable clarification.

"Objects on a Table" (Detail)

"Objects on a Table" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1981

Oils on canvas
Original 90cm x 90cm (3ft x 3ft)

This is all that remains; or more correctly, all that I am prepared to reveal; of the third and final portrait I painted of Daniel. In it, Daniel is depicted as sitting at a round table with a brown tablecloth against a dusky pink background. He is wearing a turquoise-coloured shirt, with the sleeves rolled-up to the elbows. Daniel's left elbow can be seen resting on the table. Laid before him on the table are three objects representing different aspects of Daniel's lifestyle at that time: a crumpled, discarded, red serviette; a dogeared photograph of an anonymous man; and a black pantomime mask. Can you guess what each of the objects signifies?   

"Portrait of Daniel"

"Portrait of Daniel" 
 Kerry Wright, 1980 
Oils on canvas
90cm x 60cm (3ft x 2ft)

I'm not exactly sure why Daniel agreed to sit for this second portrait. At the time, I understood he liked the first portrait and was pleased to sit for another. As it turned out, he didn't like either. What's even more quizzical is that he agreed to sit for a third portrait! I appreciate that it is sometimes somewhat of a confrontational experience to have one's portrait painted. We only ever see ourselves in reverse image, in the mirror, which is not how we appear in reality, to others. It is why people often don't like photographs of themselves. For the same reason, portraits often go unappreciated by the sitter. Certainly, that was the case with Daniel. It would appear that sitting proved to be nothing more than an abjectly enervating experience for Daniel. And it brought out the art critic in him. In fact, he became my most scathing critic. You can't please everyone, I guess. Not even when you're in the process of immortalizing them!

"Portrait of George" (Detail)

"Portrait of George" (Detail) 
 Kerry Wright, 1980 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

Scroll down for original.