Chapter 81

"Two more weeks," I said.

"What?"

"Just two more weeks: last lectures on the 30^th."

We were en route to my parents' for dinner. I'd stopped at the Market, so we'd brought a mass of flowers for my mum.

"Have you decided?"

"I think so. Have you?"

Rachel was working on a big question, too: exactly what to do if, as we hoped, we remained in Sydney. Her options were all academic: do a fourth year at Sydney; do a programme elsewhere that wasn't a doctorate (curating, preservation or something like that), or apply to a doctoral programme somewhere – most likely UNSW or Sydney.

"Yes," she responded. "If we remain in Sydney, I'm goint to look at UNSW. Either the Master of Curating and Cultural Leadership or merely the course in 'Exhibition Management and Curatorial Studies'. Either would enable me to transition to a Ph.D. research degree."

"Right. Is it meantionable?"

"Only if we need to take pressure off you."

"Well, we'll see how it goes in a few minutes."

It didn't take a few minutes. We were hardly out of the car when mum asked: "So you're giving it all up?"

"What?"

"You worked at the law for three years and you're going to just throw it away!"

"I'm not sure I agree with you." I took a deep breath. "These [the flowers] are for you."

"Thank you. But you're not getting off that easily."

"Well, mum, let's go inside and sit down so I can find out what I've done, OK?"

Rachel had remained silent, as had my dad, who was standing behind mum. We all trooped inside and Rachel walked over to a wall and looked at the Williams. I think it's the only thing she covets.

"Wine?" dad asked.

"Please," I responded, sitting on the divan. Mum disappeared, returning with a bottle and four glasses.

"May I try to elicit what your mother failed at?"

"Certainly. We're both considering what we want to do next."

"Both?..." gasped mum.

"Yes," I continued, "Both. Rachel's choices are all academic: whether to do honours, to earn a certificate or another degree, or to enrol in a doctoral programme. Mine are whether to become a lawyer following a traditional route or a deviant one."

"You make it appear simple," dad remarked. "How deviant?"

"I don't know yet. That's why mum took me aback." I sipped my wine. "May I outline my plans without getting bitten?"

"Please."

"On Monday, I'm phoning Craig to learn his notions. If they seem at all interesting, he will arrange a meeting with the Aboriginal Council. Subsequently, I'll need to think through all that's been said and Rachel and I need to talk about it. And then we'll make decisions. Simultaneously, Rachel will visit UNSW and talk to Winnie and to folks at Sydney." I paused and sipped a bit more wine.

"Is this on canvas?" Rachel asked.

"I think so, why?"

"Williams painted on canvas till about '67. Then, for over five years he pained on paper. The 1976 Gorge series are all on canvas, but the Seal Island paintings are on paper. This is signed, but undated."

"My guess is early or mid 1960s," dad said. "It's been around all my life."

"The gums are from about then. The Turritable Falls paintings are '79. Interesting."

"She's really into Williams," I said.

"Yes, we could tell," dad said, drily. "Now, Patrick. Where do you stand?"

"Well, I went to the information session of the College of Law. So I know what's in store there. And I told you what I'm planning otherwise. So that's about it."

"I thought you'd made up your mind!" mum interjected.

"Far from it. In fact, Rachel's closer in some ways: she knows where she wants to end up."

"And?..."

"Let her tell it."

"I want to study the Australian landscape."

"Not painting?"

"No. Nor photography. It seems to me that Max Dupain and Fred Williams were both gripped by the Australian landscape. Though Dupain was older and lived longer, they

were contemporaries. Sidney Nolan fits in there, too, chronologically. But his subjects are very different. Dupain and Williams employed very different media. I want to look at how they 'saw' and how they 'expressed' the Australian landscape."

"Sounds like you've already done your thesis – or at least your prospectus," dad remarked.

"It's not hard. Once you start thinking, the questions arise by themselves and the way the work will unfold becomes transparent."

"Will a department find it OK? I mean, this isn't at all the sort of thing the typical Fine Art or Art History dissertation does."

"No, Gordy, it isn't. But I'm sure that I can convince a few at either UNSW or Sydney that it'll be acceptable. Perhaps in another state; in Melbourne or Adelaide or even Perth."

"I don't get it," mum interjected. "You've been talk about law for years. Now you're giving it up."

"Not at all. I'm going at it your way."