Sydney Phillips

Can't give up

The nuns of St Mary's didn't quite know what to do with an inquisitive blue-eyed Ballardong boy, so they put me in the corner with some paper and a crayon.

I'd stare out the window for hours, absorbing the landscape of my ancestral boodja (country). In summer, the heat would shimmer across the oval, reflecting colourful abstract mirages off Lewis Rock. The old bush buildings to the west sat silently decaying as if waiting for the people to return. I watched the colours change with the seasons. From crackling tans and yellows to rich reds, greens, and browns, with tinges of blueish moss coating moisture-laden rocks. To this day, I paint abstract landscapes.

My memories of St Mary's aren't so bad. I made some really good friends there, wadjelas (whitefellas), and that's where my art started.

Things only started going south when I when to high school.

The ugly face of racism and bullying came into play. I copped it from the Noongar, and I copped it from the wadjela because I was one of those 'half castes'. That said, I also enjoyed protection from both sides of the cultural coin from family and footy mates. I was no stranger to violence. For many young Noongar of that time, domestic violence was a part of life, but that didn't make it any easier.

Eventually, I retaliated, and of course, the other boy was sent back to class, and I was sent to the police station…we used to call it the ‘White House'.

Not long after that I was picked up by ‘the welfare’ and driven to a youth work farm. I thought I was going to the beach. When I look back I find myself thankful for that time. I gained valuable practical skills and learned how to put in a full days’ work. The only thing I resent is that I had a promising football career and the time spent away flushed my one dream, my one chance, down the toilet. Footy was my constant…no matter how much trouble my big mouth got me into, I always rocked up for footy, always there for the team.

After the ‘home’ I found shelter with my Nanna Fruits (RIP) down in Armadale. She was Nanna Fruits to a big Mob, she taught us to share, care, respect. I lived and breathed footy and art, with a considerable amount of partying in between. My cousins and I would follow our older brothers around, acting like big shots in the big city. I can’t count how many times I was smacked in the mouth for being a smart-arse.

I survived my teenage years, moved up Bruce Rock way, started a family, played footy and painted, drew, carved, and sculptured on any surface available. Sitting painting with my daughters while my son crawled around was a happy time. I had family, footy, art, and work, life was good. And then it wasn't.

I got the call on Boxing Day. My youngest daughter was dead. Accidental drowning at Sandy Beach in Bassendean. I was inside out with grief and anger. All I wanted was answers and there were no answers. I hit the bottle in a big way. Not long afterward I lost my beautiful mother and several other family members, the grief kept piling on…I kept drinking. And I stopped painting. Stopped living.

The crux of the story is that I dragged myself back up. I did it for the sake of my children, my mother, and my culture. I got sober, I went to Sydney and studied a Diploma of Community Development, and came back to Armadale thinking I was going to change the world. I had every official door slammed in my face, maybe because everyone remembered the drunk me. My kids came back into my life, I found us a home and I started painting again…just a bit.

In 2016 I discovered I'm a direct descendant of John Septimus Roe (Australia's first Surveyor- General). A casual chat in a local art gallery led me to JAK Films and the production of a documentary about my story ‘Finding Moort’ (since previewed on the digital tower in Yagan Square), my art hangs at the Waterwheel Gallery, I'm Tenant Artist and Ambassador for Housing Choices Australia, I'm contracted to design coffee cups for Change Please, I’ve done a fair bit of public speaking, and I've even met Sally Morgan.

My goal is to pay it forward and instill positivity in the community. You're not alone. I'm here.