In early 1995, I was asked to make something guitar-shaped for this show. Anything, whatever you like, just make something guitar-shaped. I started thinking, and when that didn't work I did some housework in the hope that the vacuum cleaner might suck up some inspiration. Time passed, the house got cleaner...Finally, I happened upon a copy of National Geographic which featured an article on Fantasy Coffins of Ghana. The article describes how local Ghanian woodcarvers make coffins which are modelled on objects that are special or meaningful to the departed or future departed. You want to be buried inside a fish? no problem, just pick a piscene, pay the fee and it'll be ready when you are. How wonderful, I thought, what a great way to go. So the answer to the question what 'thing' to make in a guitar shape was answered - a guitar-shaped coffin.  The next thing I had to figure out was who was going to go inside?

I did some washing up and thought about great axemen and women of history.   Somewhere in the back of my mind Elvis was rattling around trying to get my attention. I didn't know much about Elvis but I knew I'd seen him with a guitar. I wasn't an Elvis "fan". I didn't own an Elvis record. Sure, I'd spent a lot of Saturday afternoons as a kid, watching him get the girl, punch out the Incredible Hulk (Bill Bixby), sip pineapple juice and be nice to irritating children. I knew nothing about him as a singer. His death passed me by. I let Elvis stalk around in my head for a while and went to meet the curator of the Tamworth show who wanted to know what I was going to do.

As is pretty typical in Australia we met in a local watering hole. A local pub. A friend of his was there who'd just come back from his father's funeral. He was toasting his father's memory pretty enthusiastically and naturally enough the conversation got around to death, dying, burial and because it's Australia... football, cricket, golf, tennis, soccer, darts etc etc. Eventually I could stand it no more. "I'm going to make a guitar-shaped coffin for Elvis," I said. "I'm going to make him the coffin he should have had. The most fantastic coffin in the whole world."

And so... the pub closed. I walked home through the quiet streets of Surry Hills. The stars were out. There was a breeze. All was well. I went to sleep knowing what I had to do. But all wasn't well. At 6 o'clock the next morning I get a call. My father had died suddenly. "You have to come home for the funeral".   I'd just decided to make Elvis a coffin and my father dies, go figure.

Anyone who's had a dead person in the family knows what happens next and I don't want to spoil the experience for anyone else so I'll just say that the next six months were spent working on my Elvis coffin, thinking about my father, thinking about Elvis. I imagined dad and Elvis together on a cloud somewhere - an odd couple to say the least. The eighty-one-year-old terry towelling-hatted Queenslander and the forty-two-year-old jumpsuited superstar. In my mind, the two became Heavenly compadres. I thought about them when I went for my driving test - both sitting on the back seat telling the examiner to give me a break. I asked them both to come up with winning Lotto numbers.
 

                                                                         More side detail showing 'tiles'

Making the guitar 

The first thing I needed was to hear Elvis sing. For the first time in my life I bought and played Elvis's music. Pretty soon, that's all I was playing.

I went to the library, I prowled the book shops for images of Elvis. When I saw the photographs by Alfred Wertheimer I was truly shocked at the sight of the beautiful young Elvis.  I was mesmerised, captivated. These were not images of Elvis I had ever seen before.  Soft, sexy, dynamite images.                 

I called the President of one of the local fan clubs  who introduced me to the hitherto unknown (to me) world of the Elvis fan. The more Elvis 'information' I got, and the more I listened to his music, the more 'fan' I became.

After I while I thought that the guitar shouldn't be a coffin to bury Elvis in, it should be something that would 'preserve' him, or take him to another world where maybe he would be better off. My brother said to me "Elvis's fans would have done whatever they could to save him from death at 42." And so the coffin became a space ship - a space ship to take care of Elvis.

So the outside of the guitar is designed to tell whoever or whatever encounters the space ship about Elvis. There are song titles and pictures of Elvis all around the side and underneath of the guitar.

Inside there is food for Elvis to eat, a TV, esoteric books, slot cars & circuit, a map of the Universe, some weapons in case he meets with any trouble.
 

Taking Tupelo 1 to the USA

After Tupelo 1 was exhibited in Tamworth...

and in Sydney I thought that really, the logical place for an Elvis guitar is Memphis Tennesee. When I found out that there was to be a conference on Elvis in Memphis (and an art show attached to the conference) it seemed that here was an opportunity for fans from all corners to see my Elvis tribute.

The Conference organiser, Dr Vernon Chadwick, managed to get support for the guitar to be flown from Sydney to Memphis. Through some miracle, I managed to get there too. How disappointing it was then to find that by the time I got to Memphis, a small number of Memphis Elvis fans had decided that some of the other art works in the show were offensive to them, and the whole show should be closed down otherwise there would be damage to people, artworks and buildings.   This was not what I expected from America and Americans.  Back waters of my own country maybe but the USA?
This is what I think happens to people who are scared of paintings.

Tupelo 1 is a shrine to Elvis - a very elaborate, delicate shrine.   It's also very big and very beautiful.   I spent six months of my life making it with love and respect. It's a unique art work and one day I hope you get to experience it.

Rosalinda 

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