Still Waters Run Deep

A luminous band of white surf cuts across a field of deep, quiet blue — the meeting point of undercurrent and light. Above, a dusky sky presses low; below, still water holds its silence. All the movement lives in that single textured line.

Built up in layered acrylic, the central band carries rich impasto texture against smooth colour fields above and below — intricate up close, serene from across the room. Framed in a thin black float frame, ready to hang.

For collectors — where this piece works best:

The palette is calm and grounded, making it ideal for:

• Above a sofa in the living room — the horizontal format pairs naturally with sofa proportions, and the blue-grey tones sit beautifully in neutral, coastal or Japandi interiors
• In the bedroom — a quiet, restful focal point that helps create a calming atmosphere
• In a study or office — the deep blue stillness suits spaces made for focus and thought
• In an entryway or hallway — the horizontal “waterline” composition visually extends the space

Best displayed on light walls — white, cream or soft grey — where the blue tones become the room’s quiet anchor.

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I’m a Sydney-based artist and mother of four. Painting has been part of my life since I was six years old, but it became something profoundly different after the birth of my fourth son, Aaron.

Aaron was born with complex additional needs, and the months that followed changed every part of my life. Alongside the demands of caring for him, I experienced a long and ongoing journey through postpartum depression. There were times when I felt as though I had slipped beneath the surface of deep water—unable to breathe, unable to see a way back, searching desperately for light.

When I found myself unable to express those emotions in words, I returned to painting.

What began as a way to survive gradually became a way to heal.

Night after night, after my children had fallen asleep, I stood quietly before a blank canvas. Each layer of paint carried emotions I could not speak aloud. Slowly, those heavy feelings transformed into atmosphere, texture, colour, and light. Painting did not erase the darkness, but it gave me somewhere to place it.

That experience continues to shape everything I create.

Across my work, light is never simply illumination. It is a symbol of hope without certainty, peace without perfection, and freedom that is often found quietly rather than dramatically. I am drawn to expansive spaces, restrained colour palettes, soft transitions, and moments where silence feels almost tangible. Rather than telling literal stories, my paintings invite viewers to pause, breathe, and discover their own emotional landscape.

Although each collection explores a different visual language, they are united by the same intention: a search for light.

I don’t paint because I have found it.

I paint because I am still looking.