Have you ever noticed how some colours just feel  right? Maybe a soft blue instantly calms you, or a burst of orange makes you feel alive again. We all respond to colour, often without realising it. As an artist, I see this every time I exhibit my work; people are drawn to certain paintings almost instinctively, and it’s usually the colours that pull them in first. Over time, those conversations have taught me something simple but profound: colour has power. It speaks to us o

When someone chooses one of my paintings, I often think about where it will live. Not just the wall it hangs on, but the life that happens around it, the quiet mornings, the busy evenings, the passing moments that make up a home. For me, a painting isn’t just something to look at. It’s something you live with . And what I hope most is that my work brings a feeling into a space - something subtle but deeply felt. The emotional power of colour Colour is usually the first thing

In a world that’s always rushing, painting forces me to do the opposite. It asks me to stop, look closely, and really see  what’s in front of me. For me, painting isn’t just about colour or composition, it’s about presence. It’s about slowing down long enough to notice the small, fleeting things that are so easy to miss: the way light moves across water, the soft shift of clouds, the stillness before the wind picks up. Those quiet moments in nature are what I try to capture i

People often ask where my ideas come from, where I find all the colours, textures, and moods in my paintings. The truth is, I don’t have to look far. Tasmania is full of landscapes that continually surprise me. The light changes every hour, the sky can go from soft grey to glowing peach, and the air always seems to hold a story. These are five places that keep calling me back, places that shape my paintings, my palette, and the way I see the world. 1. Bruny Island - wild beau

If you’ve ever looked closely at one of my paintings, you might notice that the surface is full of texture, thick paint, ridges, and layers that catch the light differently depending on where you stand. That texture is no accident. It’s the result of my favourite (and sometimes mischievous) tool: the palette knife. But I didn’t start out using one. In fact, I taught myself, and not with anything fancy. A butter knife and a wild idea When I first picked up a palette knife, I h

I moved to Tasmania in 2012 - a year of following my heart and embracing change. I had always loved Australia, visiting family in...