Broken Axle

This painting is a time capsule, a dream-sequence, a soft punchline - an intimate archive of memory and longing rendered in paint. On one side, a sharply dressed 80s-style Japanese businesswoman stands beside her pearlescent Lamborghini, a figure of presence and authority that imprinted itself on me during a trip to Japan. Across from her, a feathered dinosaur prowls with quiet menace, a nod to childhood fascination and the conviction that birds were once giants - a truth I defended long before science caught up.

Above it all, McDonald’s hotcakes float in their sacred styrofoam, relics of childhood indulgence, once revered, now oddly limp and low-rent. Below, a rainbow of Eames chairs arcs across the canvas - objects I longed for, yet always knew would never belong in my life. Anchoring the scene, a portrait of a chihuahua who once shared a deep, silent companionship with me - a small soul whose absence last year left a tender ache. Each element may seem unrelated, yet together they coalesce into a strange, lingering dream, one that clings to the edges of consciousness long after waking, holding the weight of memory, desire, and loss.

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Coris Evans is a visual artist based on Bundjalung Country in Byron Bay, Australia. Her practice explores memory and longing, using familiar objects and symbols to trace how personal history lingers in everyday life.

After losing her mother to cancer as a teenager, memory became something to return to - a place where time slowed, where tenderness endured, and where her mother still lived. Evans’ paintings and sculptural works draw on ordinary objects as emotional anchors: a well-worn mug kept beyond its use, an old mobile phone once filled with teenage secrets, the lingering scent of a parent’s hair product. These details become quiet carriers of feeling, transforming intimate memory into shared experience.

Working primarily with sustainable and recycled materials, Evans views care for the environment as inseparable from care for memory itself. Her process is slow and deliberate, guided by responsibility - to material, to narrative, and to the world her work inhabits. Through her practice, Evans invites viewers to reflect on what we hold onto, what we lose, and the objects we return to when we want to remember who we were.