My mum was a very keen genealogist, and long before the internet she spent years researching our family history in person, gathering birth and death certificates, visiting cemeteries, hand searching shipping records and writing letters to potential relatives. It was a...
I figure that I am spiritually about 10% Dutch. I lived in Holland for six of the first ten years of my life, and I have wonderful memories of that time – memories that have been soaking back into my veins and reclaiming my soul since the minute we stepped on a KLM...
Our family is heading off on a two month European adventure to discover castles, fairytale villages and unicorns. I plan to sketch them in a golden journal.
A chilly day on top of Mount Dandenong, rushing to watercolour the view in a few minutes while my family stood shivering impatiently behind me.
Drawing the sculptures at the Living Desert in Broken Hill as the sun sets. Watercolour of “Under the Jaguar Sun” by Antonio Tirado.
Standing in Swanston Street, Melbourne as the ANZAC Day Parade passed. You couldn’t have anything more symbolic than a lighthorseman – so I painted him.
Taking time to stop and draw the simple things around me is what I consider my form of mindfulness. This is a drawing of vines under a shady verandah.
A weekend away in sunny Balmain, looking over the rooftops. Not much traffic but no need with a Sydney Harbour ferry almost at your doorstep.
I painted Dad’s cottage over the top of collaged wine labels – I thought that was appropriate, given his love of wine. A little wagon sits outside the windows.
Beth’s art group organised a summer picnic at Heide Park, complete with lots of yummy stuff and equal amounts of art materials. Thus the corrugated cows.