Dear Lizzie, (15 April ‘26)
Oh gosh, this letter has been whirling around in my head for the past week, while I’ve been out in the field harvesting the walnuts, driving home from Shepparton, packing for my trip. It’s early and quiet so here I am, so happy to be finally writing to you.
Our harvest has finished. When we look towards it, harvest always feels so big and daunting but after 20 years, D really knows what he’s doing, we all have tasks, friends and family give up precious weekends and Easter and the long days begin. It’s dusty and loud and busy. The hum of machinery through the long days, so many cups of tea, hot cross buns, a slow roast here, a pub meal there. Cold beer and wine at the end of a long day. My main work is driving The Flory. She’s an old girl that runs up and down the rows of trees and literally sweeps the nuts into a row. I love it, long hours under the canopies of our trees, the huge sky above, Autumn light at 4pm, grateful to be outside after many years of being a bit stuck inside when the girls were little. Now I see my daughters out on the back of the harvester, messy buns and high vis vests, our trees such a reflection of years passing and children growing older. I think about all of this while moving up and down the rows.
Sometimes harvest feels like the only time I really contribute to our family finances, it’s a very annoying thought I know, not only undervaluing my art practice but also the work of the stay-at-home parent. It’s been an ongoing thing for me, equating success and money, often wondering if it is maybe impossible to love your work so much and make a living? Do you think there is a thing around money and art? Like we can’t talk about money as artists? It’s a vocation for me, not just a “creative pursuit” and so I do think about how to sustain a living, I want to contribute more and take some of the load off D. I drive myself mad with this ongoing narrative.
Having said that, this time next week D and I will be in Paris on our way to see our eldest daughter. I find myself justifying/explaining another overseas trip and then saying something lame like “lucky my husband isn’t an artist ha ha”. I mean I am visiting my show Berlin, it’s almost like I need permission to be excited. Good grief I need to stop.
I have so much to do, of course the most important is working out what art materials to take. I am hoping to do a lot of preparatory sketching for my next show, doing a deep dive into British Modernism, painting in cafes or wherever I can find a little space, in the afternoons. I am so disappointed to be missing Rose Wylie’s exhibition at The Royal Academy, but I do have a ticket for the Matisse exhibition in Paris. Prepare to be bombarded with photos.
I better sign off, I know you always feel like this, the less time we have to paint, the more that’s all we want to do. I love how you find moments in your busy school holiday days to make the most glorious little paintings in your sketchbook. I think I need one of those moments today. I’m also on a knitting deadline, 12 more rows of my travel shawl, can I do it? So sorry not to see you before I go, so grateful for these letters Lizzie.
X Stacey
