In Scrubland #12, the bush whispers rather than shouts. This work invites you into the quiet margins of the Australian landscape—where trees have grown old, grasses lie low, and the light shifts in subtle, translucent layers. Here, oil and cold wax on card are a way of holding time and tracing the rhythms of growth, decay, and renewal within the scrub.
 
My practice has long been drawn to the overlooked: the fallen branch, the skeletal trunk, and the tangled undergrowth around Nail Can Hill and the Murray River. In this piece, I build layers of ochre, grey, and muted green to evoke a lived terrain full of complexity and resilience. There is no heroic vista here; instead, the work is an invitation to watch how light flickers and how textures accumulate. The waxed surface holds what might otherwise be impermanent—a trace of movement, a suggestion of memory—asking us to consider what we might miss when we walk past these subtle harmonies.
 
50cm x 62cm Oil and wax on card