I am fascinated by politics, mathematics, history, the natural world, and the sciences hard and soft – but I am an artist born. At six I made a career decision: to be a ballerina, and by 17 I was dancing with the Australian Ballet. I was 27 by the time I realised I might have been happier as a musician, even a singer, and 30 before I remembered my love of the written word.
From my earliest memories of sitting by my mother or father as they read to me, the story on the page has held me enthralled. The sounds and rhythms of language encoded, the size and structure of the tale, the art of narrative. I am split between (and unite within me) the intrinsically embodied art of dance and the essentially abstract art of language. Who knows what I might have done had I any grasp of strategy?
Instead, the path that appeared so straight at the outset turned wayward indeed: performing arts collided with ideas, options multiplied then disappeared, faith hit disillusionment and inspiration splintered. It took a long time to find a way. But I am nothing if not resilient, and I found (and am still finding) ways. In my fifties, I am a writer of fiction and essays; a dancer, elite coach and dance writer; a choreographer and director; a vocalist, a lyricist, a sculptor and artists’ model, and sometimes a renovator and decorator. How much time I have for each of these fields and their projects depends on a volatile mix of money, passion, discipline and luck.