A plastic bucket

When I used to work as a short-order cook, we used buckets this size to make in-house mayonnaise. I'd crack 60 or so eggs into the bucket, then get out a electric mixer that went up to my thigh. I'd get a 20 litre oil container positioned above the bucket and adjust the drip rate so that it was a slow, steady drip at first, you know, to emulsify the mixture. You can increase the drip rate once it is clearly emulsifying, just so you know if you thought you might like to make some mayonnaise at home. I highly recommend it - store bought mayonnaise has a very different taste!
This particular bucket I bought from a brewery supply store in Bendigo. I can't remember why I bought it, but we were living on a large property so it was probably something to do with moving dirt or gravel.

*This painting was a finalist in the Lethbridge 20000 Art Award*

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Sometimes the light shines on things in just the right way, usually in the late afternoon. I place objects - usually only one or two, in the light to capture it. The light owns itself and the perfect afternoon ray hitting the perfect spot on the bookshelf will only be at that angle for a day or two. Sometimes I forget and come back to the same spot with something to photograph a week later and the light has moved on. The philospher Heraclitus said you can't step in the same river twice. I think the same way about objects around the house and the light that captures them. It changes throughout the year, the seasons. Objects don't last forever. I simply capture a beautiful moment and paint it.

I like to paint in a minimalist style with strong colours. I try not to take things too seriously.