- Rod Gardner used to sleep on the streets and now he paints them
- After many years as a homeless drug addict, Rod was inspired to get clean after he moved to Cairns, Qld with his partner Katrina
- He and Katrina then moved back to Launceston, TAS and had two sons, who changed his life for the better
- Rod had always loved art, and decided to take his passion seriously, painting on the streets and selling his art on Facebook
- He’s since received many accolades for his work and now gives back to the art community as a teacher
- Rod Gardner, 45, from Launceston, TAS shares his inspiring story below
I stood outside the beautiful old building and looked up.
It was an art studio and gallery with lovely arches, and inside I imagined people standing at easels painting landscapes and portraits.
“I wish I could do that,” I mumbled.
“Move out the way,” a stranger said roughly, pushing me aside as he walked past.
I shuffled off, knowing people like me weren’t wanted inside buildings like this.
Read more: I ditched my hubby to marry a homeless charmer
It was 2004, I was 27 and had been a drug addict since I was 18.
Having smoked pot as a teenager, I got a job as a cleaner in a hospital in Launceston when I finished school.
There, I made friends with a medical student who introduced me to amphetamines. While he could control his drug usage, I quickly became an addict.
In time, I became hooked on heroin and ice, and most nights I roamed the streets, alone with my thoughts.
My mum, Shirley, despaired of me because my father had been an alcoholic.
I spent years sleeping rough on the streets.
One day, my girlfriend Katrina, who also used drugs, decided we needed to go to Cairns.
“Why Cairns?” I said.
“I think it will be good for us,” she replied.
Her parents had confiscated her car but somehow we convinced them to give it back to us.
We got a ferry ticket from the Salvation Army in Launceston and made it to Melbourne. The plan was to drive to Cairns from there.
We stayed in The Gatwick Hotel, a hellhole for druggies where people got murdered.
“You should be out surfing, not in here,” an old user told me.
“I know,” I agreed, but the pull of drugs was just too strong.
Every week, we spent our benefit money on drugs.
But eventually we made it up to Cairns and found a BnB that backed onto the Kuranda rainforest.
There were no hard drugs up there then, and that became our saving grace because we were forced to get clean. It was painful, but we were driven by our surroundings and by each other’s
determination to build a better life.
Katrina got a job with the rainforest station and I did odd jobs with a builder.
Over two years, we made enough money to pay back our debts to our friends and family back in Tasmania.
“I’m ready to go home now,” Katrina said one day.
“Me too,” I agreed.
We drove back to Launceston, ready to make a go at a new clean life.
And when we got there, Katrina fell pregnant.
After years of drug abuse, we’d thought she couldn’t conceive.
“It’s a miracle,” Katrina said to me.
“It’s our gift for cleaning up, Trina,” I said.
Our son Charlie was born in 2009 and that’s when life really changed for me.
It gave me empathy and made me realise what it was all about.
I carried on doing odd jobs and Katrina worked for a charity finding housing for homeless people.
She went on courses and got qualifications. I was incredibly proud of her.
We had our other son Oliver in 2010.
I’d loved art at school as a kid so one day I started doodling.
“You’re good!” Katrina said, surprised.
“I think I’m going to take this seriously,” I said.
I bought some canvas and an easel and experimented with watercolour paints.
I painted a portrait of my uncle Michael Mansell, a Tasmanian Aboriginal activist, and it was put up in the Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre.
After that, people suggested I apply for grants from the Tasmanian Arts Council which I did and things just took off from there.
What I loved most was painting the streets that I used to roam when I was living on them.
I set my easel up and strangers would walk past and stop and comment.
“That’s wonderful,” an old lady remarked.
“How much do you want for it?” another said.
I loved that when I looked at the painting later, I could remember the people who stopped for a chat.
I set up a Facebook page and sold my paintings on there.
For my first exhibition, my mum and family all came to support me.
“I’m proud of you son,” Mum said.
Every morning I woke up, itching to get going.
At first, I copied what I saw but as I got more experienced, I started capturing the feeling of the place and that’s what seems to resonate with buyers.
In 2018 I received the Vita Brown Bursary, a grant for emerging artists, and also won Tasmanian Aboriginal Artist of the Year.
After that, I got contacted by Leoni Duff, a famous local artist.
“Would you like to come and teach at my studio?” she asked.
“I’d be honoured,” I replied.
That first day, I was absolutely terrified.
But as I walked up to the beautiful old building on Brisbane Street, I was suddenly struck by how far I’d come.
I thought back to how I used to look up at that building as a drug addict, feeling intrigued and intimidated.
And here I was, about to teach painting to others.
It was a wonderful moment.
I now teach classes there to adults, and I also teach Aboriginal kids to paint.
Awards and accolades are lovely, but after those years on the street what means the most to me is having a home to hang a painting up in.
I’m also proud of Katrina and I. Not many addicts maintain their relationship after they get clean.
There was a point when we had nothing, now we have a home and a beautiful family and I love my life. I couldn’t be happier.
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