“I was still living a funny old life after Margot died….I decided to ‘to go down the Franklin’” This was not Dad’s first visit to Tasmania as I was to discover. “My first contact with anything Tasmania was in 1944 in the army”. In 1948 Dad ventured across to Tasmania and it “lived up to its reputation as the place to find a difference” Dad wrote the story of his life as a gift to his family. I’ve chosen to present a series of paintings interpreting Tasmania through the photographs and eyes of my father who first visited after the war in 1948 with the Catholic Youth Group. Again, approaching seventy after his wife (my mother) died, he found solace and meaning white water rafting down the Franklin River. His stories were written with his pedantic attention to detail and humour, and respect for life. Of importance is his eccentric manner of phrase which are an integral part of the paintings, sometimes randomly chosen suggesting a greater life than a few words can give.

Liz Sullivan