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.

This painting celebrates the enduring appeal of Amber glassware—objects that glow with warmth, optimism, and nostalgia. The decanters depicted are examples of Depression glass, produced between the late 1920s and 1940s. These were humble, everyday items, made to bring beauty into homes during uncertain and challenging times.

My husband and I spend time and energy sourcing yellow and green Art Deco glassware, vases, and crystal glasses at the Bendigo Showgrounds market. There is a particular excitement in buying objects that are not new because every old object carries its own history.

These pieces recur throughout my paintings and have become an ongoing source of inspiration. Their luminous colour, elegant forms, and sense of endurance speak to me of domestic rituals, resilience, and the beauty found in ordinary objects that have been cherished across generations.

Autumn Pears is one of my favourite paintings in my solo show at Omari. Red is by far my favourite colour, and as soon as I spotted these pears in the supermarket, I knew I had to paint them.

Pears have a beautifully organic form – bumpy, uneven, and never symmetrical, with each one carrying its own individual shape and character. Time played an important role in this painting. As the pears began to decay before my very eyes, I was forced to work quickly, completing the piece over just a couple of days. That urgency helped keep the painting immediate and painterly, allowing instinct to guide the process rather than overworking the details.

There is truth in the saying that the devil is in the detail. Learning when to stop, and when to leave space for mystery for the viewer, has been an ongoing challenge for me. Autumn Pears reflects that balance between observation and restraint, control and letting go.

Banksias in Reflection began with a gift of banksias from my mum’s partner, who lives in Drouin in Gippsland, a place known for its abundant rainfall and green landscapes, especially compared to central Victoria where it is hot and dry and has less rainfall. The flowers carried a sense of that landscape with them, arriving full and heavy with character.

This painting presented a particular challenge. Placing a mirror beneath the still life created a reflected image that demanded careful alignment and symmetry, making the process feel as though I was working on two paintings at once. The reflection became an important part of the work, and I was drawn to its loose, painterly quality. Banksias are one of my favourite flowers to paint; they are not soft or forgiving, but rough and structural, offering strength and form that rewards close observation.

Stillness in Blue is a painting of roses arranged in a cream jug against a pale blue background. The subject is simple, but the focus of the work is the colour and the quiet mood it creates. I have always been drawn to blue and return to it often in my painting, even when I can’t fully explain why.

Blue can be mixed and used in different ways. Some blues, such as Phthalo Blue, feel cooler and sharper, while warmer blues with a slight purple tone, like Ultramarine Blue, feel softer and more settled. Warm and cool colours are often linked to different psychological responses. Warm colours tend to feel active and energetic, while cool colours are usually associated with calm, distance, and stillness. These effects are subtle, but they influence how a painting is felt as much as how it is seen.

My own connection to blue is both personal and familiar. It is the colour of the sky, the sea, and distant mountains. I have blue eyes, as did my grandmother, and my son does as well. Blue also feels like a colour that suits me in everyday life, in a way that brighter or warmer colours do not. These associations are ordinary and personal, but they shape the way I respond to colour in my work.

In Stillness in Blue, the pale blue background is intended to slow the viewer down and create a sense of quiet. The roses are not meant to be dramatic or symbolic; they are simply there to be observed. The painting reflects my interest in how colour, especially blue, can hold feeling and memory without needing explanation.

Chi-uh’s Birthday Jug reflects my interest in the quiet stories objects carry. A simple jug can hold layers of meaning that are known only to its owner—memories built through use, celebrations, and everyday rituals.

I often visit deceased estate auctions where boxes of cups, saucers, plates, and serving pieces from past lives are bundled into cardboard boxes. Rather than seeing these objects as forgotten, I see them as waiting for their next chapter. In a time when it is easy to replace things quickly and cheaply, I’m drawn to the beauty and care found in older pieces – fine bone china, delicate forms, and objects made to be cherished rather than rushed through daily life.

This painting celebrates the value of those objects and the memories they continue to carry. It reflects a hope that we will once again take pleasure in well-made things, appreciating their history, craftsmanship, and the quiet joy they bring into everyday moments.