To the Sea and Back
Solo
25 – 29 June Art Hole
This small exhibition presents abstract paintings and works on paper that draw inspiration from Ōtautahi’s coastline. Spanning the bays to Southshore’s Te Karoro Karoro, named for its chattering birds, these pieces emerged from repeated explorations of local beaches and tidal pools.
The colourful paintings with their jostling forms joyfully examine the connection between ourselves and the natural world.
They remind us of our ties to water, land, and coast, emphasising our responsibility as kaitiaki to protect and preserve these cherished local areas.
Te Karoro Karoro
the cries of seagulls
May 2024

Oil, gold leaf and pigment on stretched cotton canvas
1200 x 900mm
$2,500
Available for Purchase
Slipstream
May 2024
Oil, gold leaf and pigment on stretched cotton canvas
1200 x 900mm
$2,500
Available for Purchase

I had this dream
In which I swam with dolphins
In open sea a transparent blue
(Maybe you dreamt it too)
…
I had this dream
That we were all one family
Which war and famine could not undo
(Maybe you dreamt it too)….
The Dream
Michael Franks, The Yellow Jackets
Everyday I see and smell the sea. I run along its shores, and in summer, see my children swim its depths.
I hear a different sea everyday, but barely feel its creeping alterations. Shifting dunes and diminishing habitats are like dust gathering under the bed, or lines weathering once young skin.
The sea has been a familiar soundtrack in my life, a sellotape bridging memories from childhood to motherhood.
At the end of last year, along with time on my local beach, I made numerous trips to Corsair Bay. My older boy was training in the ocean so my younger son and I explored the rock pools along the ocean’s edge. These works, sweetened by childhood inquisitiveness, encapsulate those memories for me.
The fluidity of recollection is something I’m exploring for my upcoming exhibition in September. How memories are never perfect reproductions of past events; but subjective interpretations which shift over time, especially as we age.
Roses would be annoying weeds if the blooms never withered and died.
Beauty resides in the knowledge that it doesn’t last.
Abraham Verghese, The Covenant of Water