Creative Practice

Painting was where I really began to believe I could call myself an artist. I’m drawn to colour, light, landscape and the ordinary moments that make me stop and look twice. I’m still experimenting with techniques, making mistakes and discovering what kind of painter I might become. I don’t think I need to know the answer yet.

Photography is teaching me to slow down and look more closely. Since moving to Tasmania, I’ve become fascinated by changing light, seasons, fog, frost, water and the details in familiar surroundings that can easily go unnoticed. Sometimes I’m interested in documenting what is actually there. At other times, a different perspective, close detail or unusual composition can turn something familiar into something I didn’t expect. Photography is becoming another way for me to ask the same question that appears throughout my creative practice:

What else might be here if I take the time to look?

Theatre has been part of my creative life for many years, although I originally spent much more time behind the scenes than in front of an audience. Costumes and props led to producing, sound, directing and technical theatre. Eventually, I began exploring acting for myself. Performance gives me a completely different way to create. Instead of making an object or an image, I’m using character, movement, voice and story. I’m continuing to explore acting on stage and screen while discovering what years spent on both sides of a production bring to the way I approach performance.

I used to be much more comfortable when there was a pattern to follow. These days, I’m increasingly interested in what happens when I don’t follow the expected path. Sometimes that means trying a photographic technique I’ve never used before. Sometimes it’s returning to the same image of an aurora and painting it again to see what I’ve learned. Sometimes it’s turning a university still-life exercise into Daiquiri Duck because I didn’t want to paint another conventional still life. Not everything works. That’s part of it. Every project teaches me something, including the ones that don’t end up looking anything like I imagined when I started. I’m becoming less interested in getting everything “right” and more interested in discovering what happens when I give myself permission to try.

Half the fun is in the trying.

For a long time, much of what I created was simply for me. Sharing came later. I’ve realised that sharing creative work isn’t really about showing people what I can do. The part that interests me is what happens when someone else encounters it. A painting might remind someone of a place they know. A photograph might make them notice something differently. A performance might let them recognise a feeling or experience in a way they hadn’t before. I can’t control what someone takes from something I’ve made – and I don’t think I want to. We can look at the same painting, photograph or performance and experience completely different things. If something I create makes someone stop for a moment, starts a conversation, helps them connect with something in their own experience or perhaps encourages them to try something themselves, then sharing it has been worthwhile. There is always something else to discover, something else to create and, hopefully, something worth sharing.