Sometimes the troubles of this life accumulate on me, overwhelming me and overcoming me and I want a break, I want it to stop, to ease up, for the burdens and the pains to be lifted. But do you know what…this is life. It is easy to look around and think that others have it easier than we do, and sometimes that is true, but sometimes it isn’t, the pains of this life are hidden so often by a facade, that make us believe that it should be easier than it is. My family has had a run of one disaster after another, over the past six months, but amongst that there is beauty, there is joy and there is hope. This painting has been about adapting, healing the past, looking toward hope, but seeing joy in the day to day, in the weeds that have abounded in the rain, in the rain itself, in the birds that wake me in the morning. When I stop and listen, moment by moment, I can keep putting one foot in front of another and enjoy the journey.
310gsm cotton rag Giclee, archival quality 50 x 50cm (60 x 60cm with 5cm border) Requires framing
This is part of a beautiful local bush walk, behind a major Sydney hospital. You would never know such beauty exists, so hidden and so gorgeous behind a car park. It is also a local hang out for a variety of owl species. I find it endlessly inspiring, due to its lushness and the juxtaposition of it being so close to the highway. It is interesting how this oasis can be found so close and so many are unaware of it. Acrylic on canvas 76 x 91.2cm
I recently was shown the most gorgeous place just behind the SAN. The family and I have been there a couple of times now, searching for owls and climbing rocks. It is such a beautiful hidden gem. Acrylic Paint on canvas, stretched and ready to hang. Framed in a Tasmanian oak (lovingly made) floating frame. Signed on the front. 76 x 102cm 80 x 105.5cm
I love my garden, what beautiful ever changing inspiration it brings me, especially at the moment as I spend more time at home, I am noticing more and enjoying more. Years and years a go these beautiful cymbidium orchids were passed to me from my friend and relative Trang. They were overflowing and abundant. There were so many that I was able to pass on some also and since then they have provided me with so much pleasure. It is interesting how these majestic plants largely survive on neglect. Feed them too much, water them too much, give them too much light and they won’t flower. They love my vertical gardens where they get light but not too much and rain water but not too much. These have been the gift that keeps on giving.
76 x 76cm Acrylic on stretched canvas, with Tasmanian oak frame.
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.