Its origin...  In 1999 I had a studio up a laneway klektik in Salamanca Place. This small space gave birth to the idea of getting a donor to allow an artist to work to their potential rather than their means for a year.

       I had heard a rumour that there was an eccentric gambler who had a passion for antiquities living in our midst. One of his compatriots was sharing a loft space with a close friend of mine, another mercurial character Nigel Curtain-Smith who has been my buddy for many years.. Patrick Caplice. Both Pat and Nigel shared the terrible dilemna  of having kids with estranged partners. So there was a lot of pain to kill ..separation anxiety to placate.Hedonism and decadence was the way to stand the pain. Large quantities of pot ,alcohol, acid, with a biscuit or two, distraction by the score. This was at the other end of salamanca from my studio, at the top of a large staircase on the second floor..a bit of a climb. As you can imagine it became popular, a lifestyle funded by the world’s casinos. Patrick would be here for a couple of weeks then disappear off to the Dominican Republic or some other exotic location . Returning with  stories about what the casinos would get up to , to try and distract you from your game. Stories abounded. The numbers were staggering to mathematics avoiders like myself. Pat is no small man six foot three I’d reckon  , a big bear like quality,secure to be under the wing of... .generous without measure. He thrived on the connectedness of the loft. after finishing work at my studio  I would go there and watch the passing parade ,Greeks, Tibetans, Anglos numerate savants,the lumpen proletariat, monks and gamblers, with Nigel’s patois fuelling the momentum the door always seemed to be open...only because descending the stairs to get it that often would’ve been impossible . Some memorable parties, with food that was as good as sex. Pat eventually found his match in Anna Chilcott who cut through his mysoginy as only she can. One afternoon , outside my shop while having another cigarette, , waiting forthe rabbit, an aquaintance Lucia Rossi, a photographer . at a loose end, dropped by frustrated that she didn’t have the means to get a project happening. I went to the loft and asked Pat for the money to mount an exhibition at the Long Gallery which he agreeably consented to. The project was “Portrait of Salamanca”. The exercise was that she would seek subjects in the immediate area and she would take photographs, but with the condition that she could only close the shutter once for each image, thereby making the relationship between the artist and subject more precise , immediate ..intense? Lucia has this implied intimacy in her countenance which created a document that still resonates. The exhibition was totally successful and the feeling at the opening was exceptional. Not only did we fill the gallery with portraits, but also provided a feast in the courtyard adjacent to the gallery. Guy Roberts, a local treasure , a master of mixing large quantities of hedonism and great food this night cooked fifty kilos of abalone and Moorilla champagne flowed like water. The audience were in shock and awe at the generosity that was being shown. Rektango played in the courtyard for the first time, and lead to a friday evening gig that has become a local institution.

       The success of this show lead to the dilemna of how to replicate it every year?

   Years before Shirley Williamson (1929-1988), my mum, would come home from her studio in Bellerive every evening and wish out loud. “What i need is an angel that will pick up the bill for me to continue painting”, with a few expletives thrown in. For the last 20 years of her life she drew or painted for most of them. She lived on the single mother’s pension and quite often it was a choice between, a new tube of oil paint , some cartridge paper and food for herself and her kids. It was a struggle.She taught Adult education classes to try and plug the gap. It was a never ending problem that she took to her grave, the angel never came knocking.

  As always a prisoner of fate ..the angel walked by my studio some 12 years after her death , Dubsy. A mercurial awkward anarchic character, walks up the lane on his toes  in a quizzical  manner. when he is getting seriously into the subject he cups his hand around the ear. The idea of a scholarship is put to him  for the first time. he has a bit of a  nibble .something about the mercurial that makes you want to go along for the ride? Addictive..... He had a sister  a previous aquaintance of mine, Lindy who shared my passion for criminals and substances, before my kids got in the way of all that. He had bought a vineyard and filled it with antiquities . Had a passion for buying beautiful things, and got it right most of the time.The first transformation was to turn the home of a local vignoron into a delightful museum of antiquitiies.  The Moorilla Estate.         In the early seventies I had been there with Philip Brooks picking grapes with the Alcorso’s.  Claudio’s best friend was Philip’s father Kenneth Brooks whose passion helped give birth to Adult Education. Sitting down for lunch homemade Lasagne and bread baked in the kitchen. Looking through the she oaks to Mt Direction. Another world  “private property”.

   Fate turned this gem open to us, a boy from Jackson Street Glenorchy threw open the doors to the tune of Tex Perkins and Pinky Beecroft .

  Now instead of buying some priceless object would he buy an idea? Instead of buying some piece of art from El Fayez  that was thousands of years old, would he give the artist the means to make it in the future? Patronage for process rather than product? 

  Instead of approaching the benefactor repeatedly , I thought i should use someone from the inside of his gambling empire. i put the notion to Patrick Caplice that we could repeat the success of Lucia Rossi’s “Portrait of Salamanca” show but i needed someone on the inside to put the concept to him.

   The original request was a financial grant of $25000 per year and a studio space within the Salamanca Arts Centre. So the successful applicant would have the means and the space in which to work. That the arts centre situated in the heart of Salamanca would provide a studio for free. Their reward being a space within the centre that had a new artist occupying it every 12 months, rather than the current situation, where painters occupied studio space for decades and the only prerequisite was the ability to pay the rent.

    A meeting was set up with Rosemary Miller , the director come administrator of The Salamanca Arts Centre,Yvonne Rees-Haigh, Lucia Rossi, and I . Where we put the concept of “The Scholarship” to her, stating the reasons why the Arts Centre should support the project. The meeting lasted a couple of hours with this arts administrator ...a lower form of life. She managed to patronise us in such a demeaning manner for the whole period casting aspertions on David and his friends. Rejecting the concept of a partnership between the Salamanca Arts Centre and our prospective donor. In summary she said that we should ask the donor for more money and that the centre wouldn’t renege on having the sole choice about who occupied studio space within the building. A seriously dreadful experience. Belligerence rather than the nurture that a project in its early stages requires.

  Next a meeting was organised  by Pat between David Walsh, Zenon , Lucia Rossi and I . it took place on the floor of my studio, Klektik. right next door to the Arts Centre , we sat around on the floor on zabuton and we had some progress.. I wanted $25000 per year, and he responded with an offer of $8000, which I rejected , on the basis that the idea would starve to death. he responded with an offer of $12500, which I reluctantly accepted. Thinking in 10 years time you can add another zero. It was new money for the community pidling as it was.

What the scholarship’s aspiration was for an application process by which one had to imagine what you could achieve in the  next 12 months, a plan.  Hoping that any applicant worth his/her salt would go on and realize their idea even if they weren’t  successful. That you hadn’t wasted a whole lot of a young artist’s time. That it wasn’t the lottery that most art prizes had become. Where they compete with each other with a finished piece and all the exploitation that is implied in this .  Its about idea and process.

  Once David gave his approval we were off and running. I had been surveying new painters since the concept was still in its infancy. There was this young woman Phaedra Brothers who was painting these faceless portraits that were seductive in their beauty, and also had a chronicle quality, capturing something about our time. She was our canary that we sent down the coal mine. She was given less than 6 months to paint the show , serious pressure. Money was tight and we also had to get someone to launch the concept and announce the recipient  for the second year. My old mate Helen Garner stepped into the breach, she and I shared her airfares and accommodation knowing this would guarantee us a large crowd.  And we would get the bounce that was required , “any media attention gratefully received”.

  The launch was a great moment, but these were the days when David didn’t want his name mentioned in public.  A large proportion of the crowd were people who had applied for the following year’s scholarship.

  A few days previously we had to go to David’s house in Bellerive to decide who was next. Strangely enough it was just up the hill from my mum’s house. Eastern shore dreaming. We dump this load of applications on the table, with the rule that the last one left was the winner. What I mean is that if there were any doubts from any of us about the idea in question it went on the floor. unanimous was the only option. Andrew Evans got the guensey, a sculptor whose figurative carvings enlarged the soul. We were ready ,the Long gallery full of paintings (no mean feat), a national treasure to launch it ,an expectant audience and a winner for next year. All the ingredients we thought. But as soon as the winner was announced the people who had applied and weren’t successful left. I hadn’t accounted for the disappointment. of losing. We had to change the way the winner was selected.

Our new scholarship Andrew carved his huge, wooden figures on the site just behind the art school. Every two weeks, I would walk from Salamanca over to the art school ,take six pack of beer  and chew the fat..Checking the track , so to speak. We had a cheque account that both of us needed to sign to access the funds. So we would go over what he needed to spend in the next couple of weeks on materials , i’d sign a few cheques, then stroll back across the other side of the docks. We decided that the show would work best at Moorilla in and around the antiquities. lindy Lou Bateman as the host of The Museum became involved in the project, Andrew hit it off with her.

  I wanted to change the selection process at this point. After the “disappointment vibe” at the previous opening, i thought the evening should belong to the work of the artist not a lot of anticipation followed  by disappointment. That the applications for the next scholarship opened on the night rather than a winner announced. That there was a visual equation where a young artist  looked at the show hopefully they would think “I can do this”...then apply! Rather than a bunch of over confident “grant surfers” reading about it in the newspaper, someone who’d never think their application would be taken seriously  maybe?

  This difference became unresolvable  when we selected the third recipient Kathryn Faludi-Ball. I don’t know maybe something chemical, it was a disaster. The trust that I had assumed with Phaedra, Lucia and Andrew was exploited and I needed someone to take over the running of the idea. Lindy Lou , was the obvious choice. She is a hard nut when its needed and had the ability to run someone like Kathryn. I also felt what a better way of guaranteeing the perpetuity of the idea than giving it to David’s elder sister to run. She gets to be loved by some new young emerging artist every year . And in return she gives them the opportunity to work.

     I  thought I would have gained enough currency up to this point to engage in more ideas and research, but it didn’t happen  I never thought of myself as an administrator so it was time to let it be. Go back to my little studio at Salamanca and work on my own things.

     By my reckoning David’s “ownership” of the idea really began a few years later when Al Young received the scholarship. The show was held in the Bond Store, the basement space at the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. It was this incredibly vibrant pallet, and David’s mood matched, animated. Instead of lurking away in the shadows he stood at the entrance to the gallery welcoming us all. His demeanor seemed to have altered. It seemed like a realisation that anonymity had just created a small personality cult, with lots of  rumour and whisperings.

     it was time for a change.