"Portrait of Jim"

"Portrait of Jim"

Kerry Wright, 1995

Oils on Canvas

61cm x 46cm (24in x 18in)

"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 He has since withdrawn from public life.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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"Portrait of George"

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

The question is sometimes hypothetically posed, "In the event of a fire, with what precious belongings would you flee the burning building?" I have no hesitation in responding that I would choose to take this portrait of my dear friend, George, along with the portrait of my mother in the blue dress (scroll down). They are my two most precious belongings in all the world, primarily because they represent the two most precious people in my life. George was 30 when I painted his portrait in 1980. He was a portrait painter's dream subject, with his broodingly dark good looks and startlingly attractive blue-grey eyes under a knotted brow. So very Alexandrian! He is painted in a favourite red shirt of the time, resulting in a friend once christening the portrait "Velvet George", even though the shirt was of cotton, not velvet. It was through a mutual friend that George and I first met, at Long Reef in Sydney in February 1973, not long after he left the Royal Australian Navy. He has been an integral part of my life ever since. I can't imagine what my life would be like without George in it. 

"Study for Portrait of Daniel"

"Study for Portrait of Daniel" 
 Kerry Wright, 1979 

Graphite on cartridge paper

Preliminary profile study completed at the time Daniel's portrait was painted in 1979. 

Scroll down for original.

"Portrait of Daniel" (Detail)

"Portrait of Daniel" (Detail) 
 Kerry Wright, 1979 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in) 

Scroll down for original.

"Portrait of Daniel"

"Portrait of Daniel" 
 Kerry Wright, 1979 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

Daniel and I have been friends for 40 years. He kindly agreed to sit for this portrait in 1979, when he was 30. Daniel's Slavic heritage, courtesy of his father, is clearly evident here in the  prominent aquiline features, heavily hooded eyes and luxuriant leonine hair, all of which contributes to his sombrely melancholic demeanour and expression of  bemused cynicism. 

"Emily Flora Wright"

"Emily Flora Wright" 
 Kerry Wright, 1979 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

This is not a happy portrait of my beloved mother. In reality, Mum had a bright, cheery laugh and a lovely sense of humour. She laughed often and had a wonderfully warm, giving personality. This portrait, however, captures my  mother during a particularly sad period of her life, not long after the death of my father. They had been inseparable and my mother was in deep pain and mourning when I painted this portrait of her. And it wasn't just spiritual and emotional pain that she was experiencing. She was also physically unwell and was hospitalised for surgery at that time. Mum never fully recovered from Dad's death. She always became quite down during May each year, the month when Dad died. Come June, she seemed to brighten, but May was never a good month for her. It's not only Mum's sad expression and hunched demeanour that conveys the impression of loss and mourning here. It is extenuated by the sombre, cool palette of blue and grey, and by the solitary string of beads Mum is wearing around her neck, above that decidedly melancholy, drooping blue bow. I love my mother dearly and will always have this portrait hanging in my home, wherever I should live, for the remainder of my days.

"Study for Self Portrait"

"Study for Self Portrait" 
 Kerry Wright, 1971 
Sepia ink on cartridge paper

The resultant original oil has long since vanished and only this preliminary self-portrait sketch survives. I had leaped over the monastery wall and was in the process of setting out upon my exciting new life. In this image, I gaze fixedly at the reflection looking back at me from the mirror before me. Analytical self-examination has always been an ongoing theme in my life. 

"Self Portrait in Carmelite Habit"

"Self Portrait in Carmelite Habit" 
 Kerry Wright, 1970 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

I have been sketching and painting my own image since early childhood and the above self portrait is one of my first serious attempts at capturing my likeness in oils on canvas. In the painting, I am gazing intensely, sans spectacles, at my own reflection in the mirror above the sink of my cell at Mount Carmel Carmelite Monastery in Sydney. I had entered the cloister in order to study for the priesthood. Alas, however, over a period of time, I came to realize that I did not possess the religious vocation I had so fervently hoped and prayed would be mine during my adolescence. So I leaped over the monastery wall and got on with my life in the secular world. It was a memorable experience and I met some wonderful people while I was in the monastery. Certainly, I harbour no regrets about my time spent within the Carmelite cloister. In fact, I'm glad I went in, because if I had not done so, I would always wonder if I was meant to be a priest. It was a time of intense self-reflection in my life, which is evident in this self portrait. George and I recently made a pilgrimage back to the site of the monastery and were very saddened by the overdevelopment of what had once been such an idyllic, sylvan setting. The monastery grounds had once occupied an entire vast hilltop in outer Sydney and comprised a small working farm as well as the monastic building complex itself. Everything has long since fallen victim to the city’s ever increasing suburban sprawl. The grounds have been subdivided into new streets of gaudy, ostentatious McMansions. The beautiful monastery building itself, with its pretty little chapel, laid waste by the bulldozer’s might. There’s not even a plaque to signify a monastery once stood there.

"Portrait of Gordon"

"Portrait of Gordon" 
 Kerry Wright, 1969 
Oils on canvas
60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

One of my early attempts at portraiture in oils on canvas. I was in my teens when I painted Gordon's portrait. I was very happy with the finished result, but I fear Gordon may not have been so enthusiastic. Certainly, he didn't appear too concerned with wanting to collect the finished product, which is why it's still in my possession. I painted several portraits of various friends around that time. As with Gordon, I've long since lost contact with them all, and subsequently don't have copies of the original portraits to post here. For unlike Gordon, all my other sitters were pleased to take their portraits with them. I suppose I should be grateful to Gordon for not wanting his portrait, for if he'd taken it, I wouldn't be able to post a copy here.  Maybe some of my other sitters will see this post and allow me to photograph the portraits I painted of them back in the 1960s. So there's an invitation to Ian, Michael, Tony, Mark, Chris, et al. If you see this post and you still have the portrait in your keeping, contact me via this site and I'll post it for the world to see. I haven't seen Gordon in over 40 years. He was quite dashing back then, in the height of fashion with his Swinging-60s haircut and mutton-chop whiskers. (P.S., The love beads belonged to me)