It’s been a few weeks since we returned from our road trip to Arkaroola, and I’m still pinching myself that it actually happened. I’m very much still on a high.

Now that winter has arrived, the cold invites a quieter rhythm, time to sit by the fire, rest, read, and turn inward. The world outside feels increasingly unfamiliar. I’ve begun meditating again in the mornings to ground myself. It helps keep my heart open. Operating from that space, staying soft and receptive, feels like the most skilful choice I have right now. That, and making art.

I’ve noticed how easily I can become distracted, and how crucial it is to stay centered when I’m deep in creation mode. Social media, for example, can stop me in my tracks, it’s noisy, addictive, and lures me away from my own explorations. I’m still going to record my progress and share more once the body of work is fully established. Premature sharing adds unnecessary pressure. I need to hear myself think, to follow the clues. Art-making requires me to be totally present, not outside of myself.

A few weeks ago, after interviewing Catherine Cassidy and hearing her describe Arkaroola—and how much she wanted to get back there—I blurted out, “Let’s go.” I’d never been, and who doesn’t love a road trip to outback Australia? Within 24 hours, our accommodation was booked, and we had a couple of weeks to get ourselves organised.

I don’t know about you, but when something is a hell yes, I immediately slip into ‘crazy woman’ planning mode. Only after the high of finalising our itinerary settled did my nervous system kick in—and all my fears surfaced. What if I get a flat tyre? Hit a kangaroo? Meet a serial killer? What if I misjudge how much time I have to overtake a road train? What if there are floods or bushfires?

I first came across Catherine Cassidy’s work after purchasing Australian Abstract, Amber Creswell Bell’s fabulous book - a vivid survey of over forty contemporary Australian abstract painters. Instantly, I felt drawn to Catherine’s work - her colour sensitivity, her process, her deep connection to the land, and her interest in Taoist painting philosophy. There was something fearless in the way she worked—playful, instinctual, free.

At the time, I was rereading The Artist’s Way, filling my morning pages with thoughts and musings, when I wrote:

“I choose boldness over fear.”

As soon as the words were on the page, I felt the challenge staring back at me. Really? I thought. Then prove it.

I had been following Catherine on Instagram when I saw that she had recently moved to Castlemaine—a town not far from where I live. Reach out to her. What do you have to lose?

So, I did.

I remember being so moved after watching the magnificent 2016 movie, Maudie based on the true story of Canadian artist Maud Lewis. It was the first time that I wondered what it would be like to live a slow life in the country as a painter - to respond to my surroundings with colour and mark, to create works that deeply resonated. My desire grew from there.

But fear held me back.

Fear of being seen. Fear of not being seen.

I’ve always been a creator and seeker, yet I had never experienced fear quite like this. My past work - whether in baby accessories, jewellery or digital portraits - was rooted in celebration and connection. I loved facilitating these exchanges with clients, but deep down, I knew it was time to step away from safe, familiar work and instead create from a place of personal exploration. To be brave. To push my edges.

This year I’ll continue to document and share monthly journal entries, covering what I’m working on - my struggles, insights and favourite resources - podcasts, books & meditations. I’m starting a Substack newsletter, it’s called, ‘Out in the Wilds,’ documenting my journey towards becoming a painter. The trials and tribulations of learning to express the beautiful landscape that surrounds me, abstractly through colour and mark. Painting still remains my most challenging creative shift to date.

Over the last two months I’ve continued working through The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. It’s the second time I’ve done it. This time around it’s been incredibly helpful in gaining clarity around my creative desires. It’s taught me to be bold and brave, and that it’s in my hands to make things happen. The pages dared me to contact a local artist whom I much admire and introduce myself. We ended up meeting and really enjoyed each other’s company. A few days later the stars aligned and she agreed to mentor me. Magic happens when you dare to show up. I’ll write more about it next year when we are up and running.

I held my first exhibition at home in September. There was a great turnout of around 60 people. It was the first time I’ve ever shown my work and it felt good to share it. Even though it’s only the start of my painting journey it felt important to show up. A sign that I am taking this path seriously and that I’m willing to get uncomfortable. I sold around 20 pieces which felt incredible, a nod to keep exploring and developing my process. I loved listening to people discussing which piece they loved the most. I’ve made and sold many things in my life but this exchange felt different it feels like it’s the first time I’ve made work that is incredibly personal.I remember watching the movie Maudie. She got such joy from painting all day - I remember thinking I want to live that kind of creative life.

This month we took a break and went to Thailand. While there, I decided to update and upgrade my website. I’m really pleased with how it looks and you can now purchase my work online. Squarespace is incredibly user friendly, I did the whole update sitting by the pool.

I also decided it’s time to show my work. I haven’t shown it to anyone. I’ve set the date for Sat 7 September and have been working hard to put it together. I’m setting it up at home. My son is away in Canada on exchange, so his study has been converted into my gallery.

For the last couple of years, while I’ve been experimenting with painting, I’ve kept the work close but now It feels like it’s time to show up and share my journey thus far.  I do believe it is important to share your work.

In early July I was fortunate to participate in a 7 day art workshop in the East MacDonnell Ranges with Idris Murphy. I adore Idris’s work so to be in his company and bear witness to his teachings was a real privilege. Everyday we set up and painted, ‘en Plein Air.’ I really want to do more of this on our property so practicing this all week was invaluable. Observing how other artists set up and worked outdoors in the landscape was really inspiring.

I’ve just completed week 10/12 of CVP Art2Life. We are in the middle of creating a series of three 30x30cm panels incorporating all the principles we have learnt in the course. And guess what? I hit a wall. I felt overwhelmed and pressured to perform (totally self inflicted) so much so that I froze and could not paint. I allowed my fear and anxiety to take the reigns (sorry Liz.) Elizabeth Gilbert writes in Big Magic that we should acknowledge fear when it arises, allow it to be present but not take the drivers seat.

I’ve just completed week 6/12 of CVP Art2Life, run by Nicholas Wilton. I’ve been learning about value, design and colour. I’m loving every second of the teachings. I didn’t realise how much I was yearning to learn. This is hands down the best online course I’ve ever taken and there’s been quite a few. I’ve had to put my 100 day challenge on hold but I’m making art everyday and that’s what counts.

This month I’ve continued the 100 day challenge: Where I paint one painting a day on paper. I also signed up to a 12 week course CVP through Art2Life run by Nicholas Wilton. I’m up to week 3 and it’s been great so far. The first 3 weeks have been dedicated to mindset and finding what truly lights you up, the things you desire (wild dreams you have for your art and life) and ideas of how you’d like to deepen your work.

This month I started an 100 day challenge to paint one painting a day on paper. I find these types of challenges really helpful for a few reasons: They keep you accountable. The process is more freeing. I feel less outcome bound then I do when working on larger boards. The paintings take less time, they allow for experimentation. Mistakes can be made, which is often where the magic of new possibilities is found. It’s a great way to develop stylistically.

This year I’ve decided to share an excerpt from my journal each month that will live on my website: I aim to cover what I’m working on, my struggles, my insights and all my favourite resources - podcasts, books & meditations.