Remembering Rix Wright | Poem, photos

John Cupit may call Sydney home, but his family can be traced back to the south-east region, and perhaps their greatest legacy is one of Eden’s most iconic modern monuments.

His father’s cousin was the late Rix Wright of Delegate, whose ‘Hand of Fate’ sculpture forms the centrepiece of the National Timber Workers Memorial.

While being in Eden brought back strong memories of a man John knew well, it was a comment he overheard that prompted John to share a poem he wrote to honour Rix.

“When we were in the museum on Saturday, I heard David [O’Connor] talking about local poetry while we were tuning up for the show,” John said.

“I have not written many poems, but I have a poem to share with you, which I wrote the week Rix was slipping away from us in October 2009.”

The poem tells the story of Rix and his extraordinary parents, Edgar Percy Wright and Hilda Rix Nicholas.

As the poem explains, Rix could very easily never have been born.

“Edgar Wright survived [the Battle of] Pozieres, but was the only one in his trench to survive,” John said.

“When they dug him out, a bloke lifted the helmet and the damage was so bad to his head he pronounced Edgar as ‘a goner’.

“To that, as the story goes, uncle Edgar said, ‘Dig me out and I will walk out myself’.

“The great land battles were terrible, and if Edgar had died that day, Rix would not have been born, and the timber cutters monument would not have been made.

“It’s our history.”

As fate had it, Edgar returned from France and crossed paths again with a woman he had met some years previously.

He would eventually marry Hilda Rix Nicholas, one of Australia’s most famous female painters, and they settled at Knockalong, a grazing property in the Tombong Valley near Delegate in 1928.

Edgar would live to the ripe old age of 94, not only running Knockalong, but two other nearby farms.

Rix was born two years after the marriage, and big things were expected of the son of such a well-known pair.

“My father had such a time with Rix as boys, as Rix attended Geelong Grammar, and my dad attended Sydney Grammar,” John said.

“In school holidays, both lads would go back to the farm and knock around down on the Snowy River at Tombong and Knockalong.

“Hilda used to get them to put on pantomimes at Christmas – there was a purpose built studio on the farm, and it was very theatrical and sort of bohemian for a grazing company.”

Rix grew up to be someone John describes as “one of nature’s true gentlemen”.

He was involved in everything – making a name for himself as a poet, pastoralist, surveyor and dozer operator.

But it is for his work as a sculptor that most people remember him.

The Timber Workers Memorial ‘Hand of Fate’ was produced in Rix’s Delegate studio – the same place he made many unique frog scultpures.

“He was a lovely man, and an Australian treasure – I’m lucky to have known Rix well,” John said.

“It brought back strong memories for me, visiting Eden on the weekend.

“Rix made everyone he met feel worthwhile, and I would love to be more like him.”

E.P. stood upon the Somme, the bravest of the brave

And though his mates were sent to god, E.P. himself survived.

They faced their fate with dignity their mates they could not save

The trenches dug to shield themselves became their hellish graves

Had it ended differently in France that awful day

Our lives would not have been so rich in many varied ways

For Edgar courted Hilda Rix so far across the sea

They came to live at Knockalong, and then the two were three

With little Rix beside him now Oy Poy* would have felt tall

His injuries surmountable, forget about the war

With one eye fogged, and croaky voice he taught the boy to ride

He taught him how to think and shoot and where the dingo’s hide.

The snowy river cradled him, his home amongst the hills

And Rummy** taught him how to love the trees and birds and things (including FROGS )

Rix grew up with influences rich in life so cultured

To live at home with Hilda Rix meant dreams were finely sculpted,

With sketching painting carving sculpting and plays at Christmas time.

And Sir James at Geelong Grammar taught him language so refined

A playwright, poet, pastoralist, a gentle caring man

A sculptor and surveyor planting trees and building dams

Consultant to his neighbours a caretaker of this land

One only has to look to see the produce of his hands.

In Rix one has an instant friend, encouraging and fair

He shows you he has trust in you, believes you’re on the square

Whenever one spends time with Rix a better world we see

It is like Rix is more than man, more like him one should be.

With trees he planted round those hills, and dams and water free

As pretty as a picture was his Jackanory

The roos roamed free and ducks and trout and sheep and dogs and cows

And later those alpacas kept wild dogs at bay for hours.

As fate brought Raddy** home from France and determined he strove forward

Fate will touch us all again, his example we strive t’ ward.

We think of Rix as best of mates and better you’ll not find

We think of generosity, of heart and soul and mind

A fellow you will always know will be there at the end.

How fortunate is any man who calls Rix Wright his friend.

NOTES

*’Oy Poy Royt’  was a nickname given to E.P. Wright, aa a result of a Delegateg grocer’s inability to pronounce his name.

** ‘Rummy’ and ‘Raddy’ is how Rix Wright pronounced ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’ as a child.