Born in Victoria’s windswept Western District, I’m the artist who can’t sit still in one genre. One canvas might capture the punch of an indigo wave; the next, a spray of loose peonies; after that, a bold abstract bursting with sunrise pinks. Variety isn’t a distraction—it’s my oxygen. I see stories everywhere and spend every spare minute translating them into paint.
Texture and hue are my obsessions. I’ll hunt a single flicker of sea-foam green or the dusty mauve hiding inside a banksia leaf, layering colour until the surface feels alive enough to breathe back at you. From realism to impressionism, each piece is built to reward a lingering gaze—there’s always another detail waiting to be found.
Painting became both compass and comfort after losing my beautiful, radiant daughter Chelsey—an extraordinary soul whose light still guides me. It anchors me to the beauty that still floods the world. My wish is simple: that every work leaving my studio plants a little calm, curiosity, and wonder in its new home—and reminds you to slow down long enough to see the magic in the everyday.