bilateral kellerberrin

Yesterday we took a punt and went in search of Greg, the “hermit-artist” that Donna had told us about. She had said that he lives in an old school building and carves polystyrene gorillas. She was right about these details, but by the time we had finished hanging out with Greg, it was pretty clear he was no hermit. I think he really appreciated our visit, and he kept saying he would do anything to have someone else come out there to live with him.

When we pulled up outside his place – the ex-North Baandee school, Greg came out to see who it was. We hopped out of the car and I asked “are you greg? We’ve come to see you!” He replied “Oh happy day!” which I took as a welcome. Later he told us that he hadn’t had a visitor since Easter.

Although he apologised for the mess, Greg’s ex-schoolroom apartment looked tidy and groovy. The light poured in from the bank of windows which make up one whole wall. He’d used two huge blackboards to make notes to himself about things to do, and also radio frequencies to tune in to. Above the blackboards, custom fitted plywood boards became photo frames for handpicked significant images from his own history. On every ledge stood carved figurines and nik-naks he’d picked up in his extensive travels – reclining tigers, egyptian guards, elephants, and of course, gorillas. A fourth wall had the beginnings of a large 1950s theme mural – James Dean, Marilyn Monroe etc – it was fully painted on one end, and just sketched in at the middle. I thought it was good “as is” – I didnt think he needed to do any more work on it.

I had tea, Cristina had coffee, and Greg drank a pepsi – his drink of choice – while we asked him a lot of questions. Greg believes in re-incarnation. He’d had a “stepping out” experience after an accident (forgot to ask about the accident). He was just leaving his body when two men came up behind him and said: no mate, you’ve been here 5000 years now, your work’s not finished yet. Reluctantly, he returned, and has been kicking on ever since. Strangely, he thinks he met those two men a few months later – one of them married his sister (or his daughter?) and the other was a mate of that guy.

Greg is “making something” of that old school – the first thing we saw when we visited was a small swimming pool he’d installed, with wooden decking in the shape of Australia. Trees have been planted everywhere, garden beds sculpted, lawns established. The place is becoming an oasis. The one thing which hampers his ability to get trees growing is the birds. 28 parrots and pink and greys galahs eat everything as soon as he plants it. We saw stubs of trees stripped of foliage all around the garden. Greg finds the destruction the galahs wreak extremely frustrating. This confused me. Arent they just trying to survive on whatever they can find now that nearly all the trees in the whole wheatbelt have been cleared? But according to Greg, the birds, like the ‘roos, have actually multiplied since humans moved in – we provide more food sources for them than they had before, and so the population has increased.

Ok, the gorilla! As an artist, Greg explained, his imagination isn’t what it used to be. By that, I think he meant, he is good at copying things but not so good at making things up. So in his shed he showed us a blow-up of the reclining tiger, carved in polystyrene, and of course the famous gorilla. He was hyper-critical of the gorilla – the front limbs need moving in, the arse is too wide, the head too cartoonistic – but I felt that this caricature element was exactly what separated his work from the lifeless (but cute) figurines on his shelves. The gorilla had an enormous head – he was a friendly beast who could turn on you at any minute – at least, that’s my interpretation. We carried the beast out of the shed so that we could see it in a better light, and, as Greg explained, catch it from the right angle (the best angle is from behind, to the left of the sculpture – I took a photo from this angle).

Cristina with the Gorilla

Greg adjusts the gorilla to line it up for the shot…

Greg wants to make money from his carving skills. He makes good money when he’s in his trade – building cool-rooms – but the building work is very physical, and its hard to get people to work for him these days. So it would be great if he could sell his sculptures. He asks my advice, but I have little to offer. I know nothing about selling art for more than four dollars. I suggest he might have some luck with the film props industry, or making stuff for TV commercials.

Cristina wanted to see kangaroos, so Greg led us out on a dirt track to a place where they usually hang out. We saw plenty bounding across the fields. Strings of them made a kind of mexican wave as they sped towards the cover of some nearby bushland. We left Greg after sunset and it seemed like a long way home. I had thought to send him a letter or some information about what is happening here, but he said he has to come to Kellerberrin post office to pick up his mail anyway. No-one delivers to Baandee North.
…..

Snails are eating my beans and chinese cabbage. I find a few and dispose of them each day – I am becoming more ruthless since Roger told me that a squashed snail is a great source of some mineral (is it potassium?) for the garden – but I think I am losing the battle. What can you do about snails? I expect that they strike at dawn, when its cool and moist, but I am always fast asleep at that time.