A Beautiful Story

Chapter 1: Why I Love the Truth

At an age when many young people are starting a career or university I was in jail for armed robbery. I was finished. I'd destroyed my life. All was blackness. Why would I now shoot myself in the foot by putting this story in the window of my beautiful shops. Well I love the truth. So here goes. First, I'll go back some years.

Chapter 2: An Idyllic Country Town and the Secrets of Hard Work

I grew up outside an idyllic little country town called Exeter, near Sydney, with my mum, dad, brother and 2 sisters and grandparents on a 40 acre property. I inherited from my mother and grandfather a work ethic second to none. My mother is a beautiful and dynamic woman, my father exceptionally kind, my grandfather one of the toughest men I ever met. His axe hangs in my shop, a reminder of the beautiful days we worked together. (When I later faced mongrels in prison I'd think of him and despise their corruption). The energy I learnt from them I took to another level. I revelled in the secrets and rewards of hard work. By the age of 17 I took myself to Europe on money I earned from working on local houses and properties. I liked to count at least 100 hrs a week and still do. In the same year, I built my first handmade building single handedly on a friend's property in the bush. It was mudbrick, with second hand building materials, a pizza oven outside, water from a creek. It was unimaginably beautiful like something from another time in history. I realized that I could do anything, I had great confidence. Our family at the direction of my very smart mother went on to build a handmade family home. It was outstandingly beautiful.

Chapter 3: "You're Not Going Anywhere"

One day when working on it my passion collided with my mother's passion and we had an argument. She called the local priest, the local doctor and the local policeman. They all asked me to go and see a psychiatrist. Being a highly curious youth I went along with it. The psychiatrist asked me to spend the weekend in his hospital to ensure my mother that I was OK then I could go home. At the end of the weekend I went to go. He said, "You're not going anywhere". He indicated to 3 male nurses and they pounced on me and with headlocks and arm locks and dragged me off to a cell. They then stuck big needles full of diabolical drugs into me. Some days later, dressed in pajamas they took me before a magistrate. The magistrate asked me some questions and I responded in a drugged stupor. He scheduled me to six months. This was a hundred times worse than any "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" film. This was a sordid REALITY unfolding. From the beautiful life I'd already known I wasn't fooled by their ugly world for a second. I knew for a fact how stupid they were.

Chapter 4: The Little Bastard's Escaped

At the first instance I escaped. I was in the secure section so it wasn't at all easy. My background of hard work gave me the skill to dismantle a window with a spoon and make a gap big enough to slip under the bars. As I darted from the building I heard a nurse call "the little bastard's escaped". About 200 meters from the building was a creek full of reeds. I got down into the creek and hid amongst the reeds, terrified. A group of them in white coats came running down to the creek, arguing as to which direction I went, "He probably went that way over the hills. Get the Land Rover" I tremble now recalling it. In pajamas, I made my way in the opposite direction across country. After 5kms I came out on the Hume Highway at a rest spot. There was a couple in a campervan, I said to them "Sorry to bother you", I pointed to a house in the distance and said, "I've just come down from there, my wife left her insulin at a party last night can I get a lift to Bowral?" The poor buggars believed me and got me out of there. However, I was soon recaptured by the police and taken back. This began a long series of escapes and recaptures. Too many stories to retell now.

Chapter 5: A Million Dollars Out of People Like You

After 6 months, I was set before the magistrate and scheduled to another six months. I remember well sitting across an antique table from the head psychiatrist in his fine suit surrounded by his books and academic ambience. He said, "You are going to have to spend the rest of your life in mental institutions". He also said, "I am going to make a million dollars out of people like you". You may find it hard to imagine someone saying something so stupid, but you'd have to have known the irrefutable power that they had over me. I silently vowed that one day I'd find justice. I just knew I would. Somehow. I pictured getting these pompous psychiatrists and locking them up and giving them the exact same drugs that they gave me and stripping them of all dignity and then giving them a pen and paper and getting them to write a "thesis" on it. However, real justice doesn't really work like that. The situation was becoming increasingly impossible. It was either submit to them and their "care" and drugs or escape and be on the run only to be caught and brutalized back again by the police. When a "lunatic" escapes the police are pumped more than usual. What would you have done? I determined that I would try to escape as far away as possible. I remembered the beautiful beaches of the Mediterranean and hanging out with young Europeans. By chance I met a man, when I was out of the hospital, that had committed a lot of armed robberies. I told of my situation and we conspired to rob a jewellery store. We got away with the crime for a very short period of time and quickly found ourselves in the notorious Goulbourn and Long Bay Prisons.

Chapter 6: Prison is Like Being at War

Prison, as truly horrific as it is, was a picnic compared to being in the hands of psychiatrists. At least I was in control of my mind. A prison yard is a more even playing field. Being in prison is like being at war. I realized that one day I'd be looking back on it and I wanted to be proud of myself. I set to work. I started training like no man. I was alone so I trained harder than everyone else. By the time the cell door opened each morning I'd already done thousands of body weight exercises, situps, pushups etc. Never did I let a guard see me in bed. I had more self-respect than that. Every day I'd run 5 miles. I had a punching bag in my cell. I'd spend hours perfecting my speed. When I first got to prison I got smashed by some hard bastards but I soon got harder than them and they backed down.

Chapter 7: Making Beautiful Things in a Heavy, Dark Environment

I read everything I could in the prison library. Some pretty interesting books end up there. I read Dr Thomas Szasz on the fraudulence of psychiatry and agreed with every word he said. I knew I had to be mentally, physically, and psychologically stronger than everyone. I worked hard on my art. From scraps, I made the most beautiful things you can imagine. The other prisoners respected it. Eventually some lecturers from Sydney College of the Arts came to my cell to see my work. They were stunned that someone could make such beautiful things in such a heavy, dark environment. They accepted me into a Post Graduate Degree, by-passing a degree. It was cool. What is the point of all this? Coming back to more recent times. Many years have now passed since these experiences. They have been years of vigorous hard work and a multitude of experiences. My observation has been that most people that have had similar experience to me have been destroyed. Few get past the psychological minefields and go on to shine brightly.

Chapter 8: A Beautiful Empty Shop in Carlton

I have always been interested in transformation from chaos to something beautiful. I love this in physical work such as renovating an old building, but I'm much more interested in the transformation of people's lives. Underlying the work I do in my shops is this intense interest. I was a beautiful young man that escaped destruction by the skin of my teeth. Nine years ago, my wife and I came to Carlton. We saw a beautiful empty shop next to DOC and rented it from a very elegant man called Tony Nicolini who later sold it to us. Not knowing exactly what we would do I sensed my destiny in doing something artistic that might sustain us. A lot of forces were driving me. We now have 3 shops on Drummond St and 2 shops on Elgin St from which I work. Upstairs we have Air B & B's which feature my work. It could be misinterpreted that what I'm doing is extravagant, but it is PASSION and my idea of medication. I have an extraordinary wife. We have been married for 19 years. She is a gift from God. I also have a beautiful daughter.

Chapter 9: From the Lowest Materials to Something Beautiful

My response, my warfare is not to fight the world in a conventional sense, but is to use everything I've got in the pursuit of what is good, beautiful, true and most importantly loving. I take the lowest materials, similar to when I was in prison, such as lath from old buildings and then make all the things you see in my shops. Intimate small picture frames to small portable wooden buildings. The small wooden buildings are something that I love. They embody a sense of freedom for me going right back to my cottage in the bush. Some people get it, but most people don't get how profound it actually is. The simple idea of making your own place with your own hands is so empowering, so dignifying. I'm into beautiful ideas that liberate and set free as opposed to repulsive ideas like psychiatry that do more damage than they do good, to say the least. I was fortunate that I had built my own little place and done so many true things before the glorious system got its hands on me.

Chapter 10: The Truth Will Set You Free

I've had to fight like a warrior every inch of the way to get here. I have beautiful visions for the future. I read the words on a prison wall "You will know the truth and the truth will set you free" I didn't know then what that meant, but I do now. Although there may be a certain sadness to this story there are truths that speak of something great and something happy to which we can attain. Through the shops we have met so many, many wonderful people for whom I feel much affection. I'm so grateful and so happy. Enough for now. Au revoir! Michael Kelly 0403 733 570