I’ve always been drawn to the quiet, peaceful moments in life — the ones that help you slow down and take a breath. I never grew up in the countryside, but as a child, I’d ask my mum to tell me stories about what it was like growing up on a farm. I was raised in the suburbs, but I would imagine myself in her memories of open spaces, freedom, belonging to the land and the simplicity of country life.

My parents would take me to the central East Coast for holidays, and every time we drove over the escarpment and saw the Yarra Valley spread out below, it felt like something in me softened. I’d wait for that view like a promise.

As soon as I could drive, I’d go there on my own — to be still, to think, or to just breathe. Years later, when my husband and I bought our first home, we chose Yarra Glen without hesitation. The landscape there, and the feeling it gave me, has never left. It’s still what inspires almost everything I paint. That feeling of coming home.

When I entered motherhood, life was anything but in-control, calm or still. I entered a deep postnatal depression as I tried to navigate life with two beautiful, high-energy boys. Thank heavens, painting gave me a quiet space of my own — a place where I felt calm, steady, and safe. What began as a personal tool for healing slowly grew into something that is now essential for my soul.

Even though I mostly work in watercolour, my style is quite detailed where I paint with care and intention — almost like an oil painting. I think that’s because I like to gently guide the paint, where I can control some aspect of quiet and stillness back into my life.

Now, when someone brings one of my pieces into their home, my hope is that it offers more than just a pretty view. I hope it becomes a gentle pause in their day — a reminder that it’s okay to be still, to not have all the answers. That peace, isn’t about escaping life but about grounding ourselves within it. But overall, my work is about that feeling of coming home.