Laura Frances
MDINZ, FRSA
Born in the English Midlands in 1962, I had discovered and heartily indulged three passions by the age of fourteen; horses, painting and books. Not necessarily in that order. If asked what I wanted to do when I grew up; I think my answer would have been, 'A Vet.' I think the horses were winning at that point.
My passion for reproducing the things I saw and felt manifested very early in the application of crayon to bedroom wall. When that was full, I moved onto canvasses. The smell of oil paint was all-pervasive in our house and my mother had to suffer the fridge being littered with wet palettes. At twelve I attended an evening class once a week with a local artist – Kenneth Hancock – who in later life achieved the honour of being the only English member of the French Societe De Beaux Arts for his wonderful landscape paintings.
My father was a Structural and Civil Engineer for Tarmac UK in those days, so I was introduced to the construction industry from an inimitably precise and logically linear perspective at a very early age. Contrarily, I loved old buildings, especially the neglected ones; they conjured such vivid and romantic imagery to a small child. The magical nooks, crannies and twisted timbers of tenacious mausoleums were living, breathing entities for me and everything to the perpendicular felt . . . unnatural, somehow.
We lost my brother, Neil, to a car crash when I was fourteen; he eighteen.
My only sibling.
I joined the Guild of Little Theatres and with remarkable enthusiasm embarked upon a newly acquired desire to act. At this juncture I should probably point out that Neil wanted to be an actor and was killed only weeks before his intention to move to London and pursue his dream. He was going to live with our Uncle Geoff – more on that later.
I passed several exams at school; probably could have done better, but I was in an even greater rush to get on with life than most kids.
At sixteen I auditioned for a place at the Birmingham Old Rep. Didn't think I'd stand a chance. I won a coveted scholarship and went to Drama School. I worked in pubs, clubs and restaurants in order to pay for my very modest digs and enjoyed every minute of it, despite being yelled at for yawning a lot during classes.
My hurry to meet the world head-on remained an all-consuming imperative, so when I left college at just eighteen I headed for the bright lights of London, much to my parents’ consternation.
I went to live with Uncle Geoff.
Geoff Wootten was a man who, by his own efforts, achieved a level of notoriety he was monumentally proud of. He was a cad and a bounder; a rogue and scoundrel much loved and admired by everyone who knew him. Even the women he cuckolded forgave him his trespasses - eventually. One of the top ten models of his day in the 1960’s, Geoff ran his very successful glamour model agency from the basement of his Fulham home when I entered his life. I acted as au pair, confidante and friend despite my youth.
Geoff - now deceased some 15 years, bless him, got me those all-important auditions; the best of which was with Ronnie Barker for, ‘The Two Ronnies’
I hit it off with Mr. Barker straight away and spent eight glorious seasons working with The Two Rons in a variety of roles written for me by the mysterious Gerald Wiley. I held the greatest respect and admiration for both Ronnies, but completely adored the gentle, generous nature of Ronnie Barker who so kindly gave me my first real break in the business.
I worked quite a bit in TV, film and theatre during the eighties, but I was never really going to make it ‘big’ as an actress. That actually was the main obstacle; being just under six foot was no role winner in a profession where most male actors are just over five foot. It works in comedy, but even that has its limitations and lifespan.
At twenty-three I met my first husband to be, James. A year or so later we married. The marriage didn’t last long, for all the usual reasons and a few unique to the circumstances, but I don’t think either of us bear any grudges.
I digress; our union resulted in the birth of a corporate and commercial video company.
No kids, but that was my choice.
I wrote, directed, produced, edited, acted, made the sandwiches and carried monumentally heavy equipment. Budgets were tight and we were a determined couple. We made successful programmes for some seriously blue-chip companies; Marks & Sparks, Littlewoods, British Telecom and a host of others.
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Two arduously self-rehabilitative years after extracting myself from my second marriage - the less said about that the better - I embarked upon the business of re-designing and restoring Heritage buildings.
My love of romantic, rickety old wrecks never having left me, I began with the house I lived in; an Eighteenth Century thatched cottage in dire need of TLC. I transformed it and sold it on within a very short period. Severely struck with the need to continue curing sick buildings I moved to Devon in the beautiful South West of England and bought three fabulous stone barns. For the next five years I became as much a hands-on builder and labourer as I was designer. I swung a pick axe like a pro, drove JCB’s, stacked roofs, laid concrete by the ten tonne, learned to dry-stone wall, and shifted more stone, timber and cement than I care to calculate. I learned rapaciously as I worked. Further projects of different construction increased my understanding and knowledge and I was ready to tackle anything.
Property prices had increased exponentially over the years since the 1990 crash and restoring wrecks had become financially non-viable. My resources were limited and if the truth be known, I was exhausted. I decided to take a rest for a while. I spent that time writing. The resulting book was at least recuperative from my perspective, but I didn’t have the courage or confidence to try hard enough to get it published. I won an award in the best new science fiction/fantasy writer category with Authorlink, USA. I even had a few short stories published. But, I guess I either wasn’t tenacious enough or good enough to pursue a serious writing career. The Toy Sorcerer still languishes on my hard drive somewhere. One day, maybe. . . .
Isolation in North Devon eventually had me talking to myself and - somewhat alarmingly - answering back.
I returned to Suffolk and took on another wreck; an Eighteenth Century timber-framed monster named ‘Thistley Common’, which thereinafter became known as ‘The Prickly Bitch’.
After decades of abuse from Messrs. Bodge-it, Leggit and Scarper, the remains of this once proud house was extremely difficult to persuade back to life. It very nearly collapsed on a number of occasions throughout its painstaking renovation and I don’t think I ever worked harder in my entire life. Every germ of knowledge and experience was necessary in order to drag her kicking and screaming back to her former glory.
However, she cured me of my blind love of old houses. I achieved what I’d set out to do; retain and enhance her ancient beauty whilst imbuing her with the long term economic viability of a new build. But, and this is a huge but, the effort, money and heartache involved in this thankless task very nearly broke my back and my spirit. I was knocking on in years and pushing the limits of my physical stamina; this kind of labour of love was definitely the reserve of younger bones.
This sudden and humbling realisation drove me to base my future design aspirations on less strenuous endeavours. I decided to set aside my waning brawn and put my addling brain to better use.
I signed up to a college course in Computer Aided Design. Given that computers were an anathema to me, the first few weeks of the course nearly saw me quit – for the first time in my stubborn little life. But, in the epiphanic moment (or was it apoplectic) I ceased to believe computers were smarter than I; I conquered the software and never looked back. After mastering CAD I discovered 3D modelling and animation software and from that point on I entered Twenty-first Century virtual heaven.
Until that point I hadn’t really understood how three dimensional my thinking and imagination was. The software allowed me to visualise my wildest dreams and rationalise practical conundrums. I studied for three years and excelled in just about every industry standard qualification achievable. This was just the beginning, however, as any 3D expert will tell you; the qualifications mean nothing – you have to work at this software for years in order to dominate it. I’m not quite the dominatrix yet, but I do try to stay on top of it!
The combination of years of practical experience as a hands-on designer/builder, practising artist and my newly acquired skills, opened doors to opportunities I never imagined possible. I was introduced to a lighting manufacturer whose predominant client base was concept artists and public art commissioners. My ability to understand the original concepts, apply the necessary structural elements and visualise the end result using CAD and 3D software, created immediate and effective solutions.
I’ve since won design commissions for major shows and events and I continue to receive fabulous assignments; relishing every new challenge that comes my way.
The rather unladylike muscles I used to possess have diminished to far more feminine proportions and I now apply experience and technological wizardry in my daily working life.
I also create my own art furniture, lighting pieces and sculpture works. It’s not my place to critique them; I leave that to the beholder.
Did all that happen in just thirty years? What next I wonder . . .
