being literal. The primed board was before me, waiting, I hesitated. To my left my oldest brother hovered over a large, paint encrusted canvas that absorbed all his attention. For days I had made it my errand to sit and watch this brother barely exist while thoughtfully lost, engulfed, painting. He was an engineer student at the [University of Western Australia] who painted in his spare time. Once, he turned and asked what I would like to paint. When next I arrived, there it was—this primed board propped on a sort of easel, my brother again unaware of my presence, and his question not yet answered.