After reflecting on what it means to be a prolific artist, I found myself facing a more practical question: What happens to all the art I make?

Forty finished paintings this year. Eighteen more in progress. And that is just the recent work.

I have hundreds of pieces created over the past 18 years—some stored away, some gifted, a few sold, many never shown.

For the longest time, I have resisted thinking about where the work should go. My joy comes from making, not marketing. I paint because I must—because silence, colour, texture, and movement speak to something deeper in me than words ever could.

But the truth is, art is meant to be seen, experienced, talked about and lived with.

I know from my first experience of showing at a “proper” exhibition in 2023. (Over the years, I have shown my work through smaller community events.) The conversations and feedback I received then left me buzzing for a week. It was affirming and convicting. When your painting moves someone to tears, you cannot but come away with a clearer sense of purpose.

I am slowly but surely learning that showing my art gives it a new life. A new conversation. A new home. And in some small—but meaningful—way, it might even help someone else reconnect with their own sense of beauty, stillness, or wonder.

So if you have ever wondered about owning a piece of my work—or are simply curious to see what I have been up to—please reach out. I would be happy to share more.

There is no pressure. Just a quiet invitation to look, and to feel.

 

Come visit my studio?

 

 

Featured image: Incognito I—a quiet acrylic work on paper—has found its place in a warm Aussie home.