I spend so much time waiting. Waiting for doctors, waiting for holidays, waiting for the weekend, waiting to hear back, waiting for the washing to be done, waiting for the kids to get dressed, brush their teeth, eat their dinner, get into the car etc etc. Sadly I was born impatient! I hate waiting: I would rather wait where I have to be than at home, I over analyse, in order to anticipate an outcome rather than relax into the waiting. Fortunately every now and then I am reminded of the joy in waiting. This was one of those days. It was heading on to sunset and I was walking with Jesse, he is a kid who stops and smells the roses, I looked back and realised how valuable the wait can be. In that moment, thinking of my boys, the joy they bring me and how much they both remind me to live in the moment and savour that still, peaceful, glorious moment: waiting. 76.5 x 61cm
This was a commissioned as a gift, of a mud brick home that has been in the family for generations, but sadly burnt down in 1927, then rebuilt around it. I loved painting this. It felt so special and personal.
This was painted (with permission) from a photo by Jacqueline Wells, of her gorgeous free spirited daughter. I was absolutely captivated by it. There are so many stories in this photo, so much personality, so much joy. I feel as though she is Alice on wonderland, or Dorothy or just Henri: she will face all the ups and downs in life with confidence, individuality and spirit. She will dance her way through life.
This painting was such a struggle for me, physically and emotionally and on reflection it is fitting that it was. This is for a paediatric therapy and learning centre: it is to convey hope. When people see this they will not see how much pain I was in when I did it. They will not see how I struggled as to how to achieve it, how to get the complexity and depth, how to covey the image that was given to me. They will not see how I struggled with self doubt and how much I wanted it to work out. Just as when you see the kids who go for these physical therapies. We do not see the struggles they face. We do not see how hard they fight, sometimes daily. How much they have to deal with, each with varying degrees of difficulties and how much harder they have to try. What you do see is the beauty that has resulted from the struggle. It was worth it. I hope for the kids who attend their therapies that they can also see hope, hope that the struggle is worth it. That great things can be accomplished with great effort, even when others are unaware of the battle.
This mural was done for the entry into a nursing home in Coffs Harbour. My Mum and I lived in this home while it was being built. Workman all around, fire brigade appearing unexpectedly, staying in the dementia ward, sheets as curtains.