a blend of artwork, poetry and photographs.
pieces of me.
the roots of my art.
some of it dark, some of it light
all of it relevant to who I am and what I make.
this space is in progress, so am I.
Yuin country, 110mm
‘from one womb to another’ 2026
i hope I die
with my skin on the earth
soil, skin
blood, bone
raw umber,
wrinkled,
skin turn purple,
again
like the moment of first breath
mimicking the last
from one womb to another
we travel,
all of us.
eventually.
with a magnificent patience
death lingers in the foyer,
awaiting the moment
to collect soft body,
limp and agreeing
bones yearning to become
striking and stark
uncovered by decay,
once shrouded in vibrant flesh
a journey back
to the place where all is one
leaving art behind,
always
Nic, in quiet company with the Murrumbidgee river - Wiradjuri country - 35mm
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I am often musing upward,
sky speaks down
upon my face
clouds carry her message
in liminal language.
listening to voices
of rippling water,
speaking in tongues
of colour and light.
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drawn in a journal on my travels in India, Leh, Ladakh 2024
exploring the himalayas by bike, Leh, Ladakh, 2024
lovers drawn onto a camping table, 2023
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’don’t touch the parts of me that I have forgotten.
I am binding myself to now.
Wading through waters deeper than fear,
leaving ripples behind.’
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untitled, 2021
‘i’m not falling apart, just lying here’ - 2021
ripples in the beach shallows, Wadawurrung country, 35mm
a portal, Boonwurrung country, 35mm
‘portal bearer’ felt tip pen on paper, 2023
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souls adrift
I’d be ok if the world disappeared tonight when I close my eyes.
they say that people are reflections, but what if I smashed the mirror?
Tonight, with my eyes closed, I am safe,
away from the awkward dissonance I feel when I look into another humans face.
we are all so confused and fucked and wildly far away from where we belong;
souls adrift
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in progress shot of ‘freya’ 2024
untitled, 2021
looking up from somewhere on Wurundjeri country, 35mm
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perhaps I am drowning,
in black
or in blue.
in me or in you.
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2020
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dismember me mentally,
make the noise stop.
head between knees
sitting at the bottom of the bottle.
trying to comprehend the mess;
the world,
humanity,
the mess. the mess.
Dismember me not physically,
but mentally.
not like that screaming child
malnourished, beneath rubble
that i just scrolled past on my phone.
make the noise stop,
mine is just in my head,
dissonance,
pain
guilt.
not like the earsplitting explosions of bombs that I can’t grasp the extremity of through my phone speaker.
Dismember me mentally.
no one taught me how to hold this.
screaming at a rally for all the lives lost doesn’t feel like enough.
but I will scream.
no one taught me how to hold this.
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seaweed, Wadawurrung country, 35mm
a love letter to pink
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my favourite time of day is dusk,
when the sun dips and says farewell.
the moon, a cheshire smile
illuminated against a swirl of warm shades…
it’s funny, i don’t usually like pink.
but when it’s strewn about the sky
it strikes a chord in my chest
that makes my heart flutter,
like the homeward bound birds.
there’s clarity and calm at this time,
the day is moving on, we made it through,
amd as homage to our efforts,
big or small achieved
the sky gifts us art
or perhaps an expression of her feelings
before she puts on her cloak of stars.
in these moments, everything feels ok
and i can breathe the deepest.
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