Over the last nine days since I last wrote, I've made a major change to my upcoming journey through life. First of all, I'm not going to do a Certificate III in Hospitality. I don't think I'm too old to work in the industry—I've just found the one path I've been looking for this whole time.
I've decided to study a Diploma of Screen and Media (Animation, Gaming, and Visual Effects) at TAFE SA starting next year. That will then lead into an Advanced Diploma of Screen and Media (Content Creation and Design) the following year.
I want to explain where the animation, gaming, visual effects, and content creation and design side of things comes from for me.
3D printers can now print out body parts. As I understand it, they use living cells or tissues, making the printed parts technically alive. But it raises a powerful question: you could theoretically 3D print an entire human body—organs, limbs, everything. So, what separates that 3D-printed body from a real human being?
It’s the breath of life. And where does that magic come from? What animates the inanimate?
Without going too deeply into that, I started thinking: I would love to have the skill set and creative control to create high-quality 3D prints, especially of the human form.
My vision is to create 3D wall hangings, framed like traditional artwork, but with the artwork extending out into the space around the frame—challenging the flatness of traditional painting and embracing dimensionality.
Ultimately, my work will be a fusion between technology and traditional art forms—casting, sculpting, gilding, painting—all anchored in strong conceptual frameworks and executed with technical skill.
Since my true goal in life is to travel the world, I’m hoping these qualifications will give me enough skills to earn income, support my travels, and still have enough left over to live a comfortable and meaningful life.
To get ready for TAFE, I'm getting a tutor in 3D modelling. I found him through a reputable website, and I’m meeting up with him next week when he gets back from a holiday. I’m thinking of booking him for four hours a week, just to give myself a head start on the qualification next year.
I’ve changed my life’s course so many times, and honestly, I’ve literally wanted to do every single job I’ve seen someone doing. I’ve started studies in a number of different fields, and while my employment has mostly been in customer service and secretarial roles, I’ve worked in so many different places.
But now I know exactly what I want from life: I want to travel. I want to see the world.
And I don’t think I’ll ever get to do that unless I sit down and figure out where the money is going to come from.
I know in my heart that the best way for me to earn a living in this life is through the creative arts—through writing and making things.
So even though I’m not currently studying writing, I’m going to keep blogging, keep working on my novel when I can, and mostly… just get it all done. Quietly. Consistently.
I know I can freelance and create artwork—but only once I’ve developed the technical skills that will give me complete creative control.
That’s enough about my study plans. I feel like anyone following this blog will think I’m a madwoman—still changing direction every two seconds at age 43.
But the truth is, I want this, and I’m going to make it happen.
Last Thursday, the 13th of March, Mum and I met Maureen—my former tutor, substitute daughter, and friend—at the Botanic Gardens for the night session of the Dale Chihuly glass exhibition.
My mum struggles with mobility at the best of times, but she thought she’d be okay to walk around the gardens—and she was, for a while.
While it was still light, we saw two pieces. The first was called "First Boat and Niijima Floats," made out of blown glass and a wooden boat. The second piece was inside a glasshouse-type structure and was titled "Glacier Ice and Lapis Chandelier," made from blown glass and steel.
I hadn’t been to the Botanic Gardens in what felt like a lifetime, and as I walked around, I realised just how beautiful it really is. I didn’t remember it like that.
Then we came across a fountain—and I absolutely love fountains. Even more than that, I love when people throw a coin into the water and make a wish. One day, I can’t wait to get to Italy and see the Trevi Fountain—and all the wishes people have made there.
The only sad thing about this particular fountain at the Botanic Gardens was that there were no coins under the water. Not one.
So I decided I’d start a trend. I threw twenty cents into the fountain.
Mum kept watch so no one would see me do it—but really, I wanted people to see. I wanted them to follow suit, to start wishing again.
Below, you can see the fountain and the twenty-cent coin I threw in.
I knew they were bats—I’d seen them before around the Botanic Gardens—and I pointed them out to Maureen, who swore they were birds. I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but I insisted they were bats.
Mum decided it was time to leave because of her discomfort, and as we began the walk toward the front gate, we got closer to the bats—and Maureen realised she was wrong.
She still didn’t want to admit they were bats, though. But she’s a smart girl—she obviously knew.
Below, you can see the bats.
It was a slow walk to the gate, with Maureen—who’s a nurse—really helping Mum along. We saw a number of pieces that looked spectacular lit up, but the two below were my favourites.
The first one is called Polyvitro Chandelier, made from polyvitro and steel. I think this one was my favourite of all the pieces we saw.
The second is called Lime and Lava Red Tower, made from blown glass and steel. You can see the bats flying above it.
I think this sculpture had exactly the effect on the audience that Chihuly, as an artist, probably wants. I saw a young couple sitting on a bench, cuddled up together, just gazing at the sculpture. It was romantic, and the piece really set the mood.
We did manage to see a couple of other pieces, but Mum really needed to leave. She struggles with mobility sometimes, and being at the Botanic Gardens really highlighted that for me.
We caught an Uber to The Parade and had some gelati, then headed home.
Seeing Chihuly’s work made me think more deeply about art. By that stage, I had already made my decision to work with 3D modelling, so I found myself really looking at his pieces in terms of form.
One thing I don’t like about the art world is how pretentious it can be. Each one of Chihuly’s sculptures would be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I had to wonder—is it worth it?
They didn’t appear to have any deeper meaning beyond what they were: large, colourful blobs of mainly glass. What really made them awe-inspiring for people, in my opinion, was the scale. They’re huge.
I honestly feel that any skilled glass artist could create similar pieces—but theirs wouldn’t be worth nearly as much, simply because they don’t have a brand like Chihuly does.
So is that the key to art, like so many other things in life? Is it really all about branding?
