Rainbow Prize - Biblio Art Prize

Last night I got confirmation that I have received the Rainbow Prize for my mini textile series made in response to The Airways by Australian author Jennifer Mills. I feel incredibly honoured and excited. Thank you to Blarney Books and Art and to Jennifer Mills, the author of The Airways for this opportunity. I look forward to seeing the exhibition in person in Port Fairy, Victoria, in January of next year.

My artist statement:

The story of The Airways is anchored by an assemblage of distinctive objects and symbols. Oriental lilies, the Beijing Subway network, or the human heart establish a tarot of mechanisms linking and isolating connection, location, and narrative. What impressions take hold as we pass through? Concentrated streams of haunted internal monologue are paired with tangible objective footholds fused with the inevitable projection of trespass, memory, physicality, observation, longing, dislocation, distance, and possession.

Wings Over Illawarra Air Show 2021

Nestled between the sea and the Illawarra Range, we converged on Shellharbour Airport early on Saturday morning for the Wings Over Illawarra Airshow. With the eroded facade of the Escarpment drifting in and out of view, wet weather set in periodically. The flight program was amended, and the second-last public flying demonstration of the F/A-18 Hornet (designated no. A21-44) took well-deserved precedence. With afterburners flared, vapour clouds - a dramatic combination of temperature, speed and air pressure - caused clouds to materialize around the aircraft.

A few more favourites:

It was a great day. Already looking forward to the next.

Prints available on Society6 here.

Photographing the Wind

Though visually imperceptible in itself, the wind is tangible, shaping landscapes and disrupting urban environments. In still photography, the wind is often viewed by photographers as an enemy - disrupting subjects, upturning weddings, kicking up dust... but in photographing the kinetic results of the day's tumultuous weather, I allowed the wind to pose the thin branches of Indian Mustard weeds. As the flower heads nodded in and out of focus, I was a mere observer to the unpredictable contours of the atmosphere.