Urchins, deer and a grand sailboat are blended in Debbie’s effortless style to create a statement vignette overlooking the garden.
The artist at work: Debbie in her studio, photographed by Jules Haines.
There’s nothing more Mount Eliza than going to the city to get a tertiary education and staying or moving further afield for 20 years before returning with a lifetime of memories to where it all began. Debbie MacKenzie not only embodies the spirit of success so many find out in the world, but a deep appreciation for the values that have led so many sons and daughters of Mount Eliza to succeed on the global stage.
Take the flight upstairs to her husband, Adam’s, retail clothing store, Atticus Finch, and you’ll notice Debbie’s studio hidden in broad daylight, a stark contrast to the crisp, imported basics for sale. Her paintings capture the fragility of a perfect view in our part of the world, where sunlight reveals deep shadows in the afternoon on otherwise moody and constant days.
Each show at Manyung Gallery has been a sell-out with an upcoming group show proposed for Sydney in June introducing Debbie’s work to a market beyond the borders. With a long wait list for her paintings, limited edition archival prints are now an accessible means to own one of her works and an affordable entry point for budding collectors.
A pair of bellows used by Debbie’s father are as useful today as they were at boarding school.
Debbie shares her home with a collection of mementoes that function to bring both texture and context to a rich life spent travelling, working in film, television, and advertising as well as a love of the seaside and nature.
“Flotsam Jetson, really,” explains Debbie. “I’ve been collecting since I was 15 years-old when I used to go to the Moorooduc Antiques Store with a friend, fossicking for special, meaningful pieces.”
Books decorate every corner of Debbie’s home. Here, children’s artwork is celebrated with memories and her fossicked collection.
Her home in the Ranelagh Estate is a classic beachside bungalow and the perfect setting for a gallery of accessible artefacts from a lifelong collection of inherited and acquired pieces.
The garden overachieves in the strict guidelines of the Estate, where the footprint of a home must not exceed 60% of the title. The garden dominates, with an ancient camelia, prodigious gardenia (Debbie’s favourite scent) and towering gums lending this pocket of traditional beach houses a fragility within an area of unchecked renewal.
Deep green leaves off-set crystal and a Mirboo pine cones.
Debbie’s love of architecture is reflected in her live loves, as well as nature, expressed in her sell-out shows. With a modesty wrapped in confidence about her place in Mount Eliza’s community and the strength of her work, she explains: “I don’t have a Wikipedia entry and I’m pretty happy about that.”
That may all change soon, as she joins the ranks of artists, writers, musicians and actors who’ve all called Mount Eliza home.
Antique spools are re-invented as candle holders, whilst a live arrangement obscures one of Debbie’s celebrated works.
Love – the sense of community. “Did you hear about the lady who’s Golden Retriever was pinched from her home? Where else would the community get together and find the dog?”
Live – for Ranleagh Beach. “It’s familiar, and you always run into someone you know.”
Live – For the people. “It’s a good breeding ground for interesting people – Australian Crawl, The Daddos, Tim Ross, and the woman who wrote, ‘Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree.’ She went to Toorak [College].” Marion Sinclair later taught at the school, prolonging her own legacy on Mount Eliza.
Love – “The history! For a sleepy seaside village, it’s had a huge impact on the country.” Walter Burleigh Griffith, who designed both Canberra and the Ranelagh Estate lived in Mount Eliza for many years with his wife and collaborator, Marion Mahoney Griffith and Toorak College is approaching 150 years as a school education women throughout Australia and more recently, the world.
Love – “The older architecture. It does seem a bit sad that it’s all disappearing. There used to be so many one and two-storey white weatherboard houses down here. We really need to protect that part of Mount Eliza’s history.”