My art. It's what comes from my head, through my hands and into a physical representation of myself. It's not always perfect.

They say art is a window into the soul, and I agree.

I love the play of light through an open window. There may be a slight breeze, a fluttering of the curtain, a sudden shadow from a cloud animal or a squawk from a passing cockatoo.

I'm intrigued that sometimes, a barrier of glass remains between me and my desired objects. And if I look closely enough I can see me, looking back.

The sound of pelting rain makes me happy, I'm warm inside. Enclosed in my own creative home, safe and wishing love to all.

Everywhere I see, hear and touch becomes a pretty vignette of nature.

I take a morning walk along the bay, the glistening water ripples, the morton bay figs languid branches sway. Cars roar past as the lights change.

I take a side route now and stop and smile. There it is, the majesty of my beautiful city. Strolling along the boardwalk banksia and wattle litter the path. As I jump across the milk beach sand, let me stop again and admire the hollow rocks withered away grain by grain. Am I standing were the Gadigal once did? I think I just might be.

I'm at home arranging my mantle with my Paris porcelain bust of Athena and the light shines through french doors, creating that perfect shadow. Fresh flowers on the table, they make me smile.