Amelia Draws

I once visited a lighthouse down on a rocky tip of the southern Australian coastline. The carpark to the lighthouse was a white walk. The damp cold breath of the Antartic air was blowing thick against the shore. Bright white fog swallowed the sea, the coastline and the path. It didn’t just blur the edges of the landscape, it obliterated them.

I walked down sandy pathways with other walkers that were heard first and seen suddenly. The path went around a corner where the hard white edges of a white, tall and squat lighthouse danced with the the soft white edges of a dense and swallowing fog.

This is the moment I really understood the salvation, the light in the darkness that was a lighthouse.

It stood against winds and lashing rains for generations. It could, would, and did light your boat across the waters to safe harbour.

Appearing often in stories of haunting and isolation the lighthouse can be a foreboding structure. Perched on cliffsides and lonely rock outcrops, a bold and solitary structure.

As a child I loved the story of the Lighthouse Keeper trying to protect his lunch from the greedy seagulls. A jaunty, happy, childrens book that still spoke to the isolation and loneliness of the lighthouse.

In Round the Twist, a wonderful Australian tv, show the family lived in a lighthouse. It was odd, quirky and fun, and also haunted by longing ghosts

I think about this mix of whimsy – in the structure of the lighthouse, its often red and white striped painted body mixed with the sense of responsibility and duty. Thinking on this, this building laden with weight, history and hope is how the lighthouse has come to pepper my artworks. For myself, the artist, they are symbols, buildings that endure hardship so that they may be there to steer you away from dangerous waters. They literally light the way.

So, if you see a lighthouse in my work know that it is blessing from me to you that you always find a safe journey to the shore.