My Mother’s Tablecloth

My Mother’s Tablecloth is a tribute to my mother, born in 1943, for whom setting the table was and still is an art form in itself. Every gathering is carefully composed: napkins folded just so, plates aligned, tablecloths chosen with intention, and serving ware brought out as a complete ensemble, the matching cake server, crystal milk jug, cups and saucers all part of a quiet, loving ritual. These are not gestures of excess, but of care.

This devotion to the table has been inherited, somewhat like an affliction, and now finds expression in my own life, most noticeably at Christmas, where settings are arranged with equal attention, resplendent in yellow and green. It is a practice rooted in memory, repetition, and love.

In a time when meals are often hurried and families gather less frequently around the table, this painting reflects a tradition that feels increasingly fragile. It recalls moments when a cup of tea in fine china and a slice of cream sponge cake were savoured, not rushed, moments shared with family and friends, where presence mattered as much as the food itself. And for those who are collectors of Bendigo pottery, the brown jug depicted in my work may be familiar.

My painting honours my mother, those slower rituals, and the quiet beauty of a table set with love, time and care.