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I live in the northern NSW hinterland, Bundjalung Country. On a clear night the Byron Bay lighthouse casts to the north-east, there are watercolour blue hills that form the most distant ridgeline to the north-west and Lismore is a short country road drive inland. 

The undulating landscape here has a distinct kind of beauty. This terrain has a particular light according to the time of day and year. It’s strange, but aspects of the weather seem to linger just that little longer, be it fog, rainbows or golden afternoon sun.

Paying attention to the sunrise and sunset of each day prompted these works. I’m currently in a position where a one and two year old force a pre-dawn awakening. Every. Single. Day. Rather than dread this occurrence I made the conscious decision to relish it and observe how the sky and surroundings change with the daybreak. This simple ritual saw a shift in the rest of my day’s attention, prompting a renewed sense of bodily rhythm and compelling me to paint. The practice of observation and studio exploration turned a period of otherwise inconsistent living patterns (driven by small children), into a reassuring sense of contemplation and connection (for the most part).

I have been reminded that this landscape is not a backdrop, rather an integral part of day-to-day experience. It is beautifully alive. These paintings begin to explore this place and what lies between my moving body and the terrain; this is the gap where I live as a painter, I think.

The series title, Hinterland, makes reference to the geographical features but also to the term’s alternate definition ‘an area lying beyond what is visible or known’. The colour and marks of paint attempt to embody the sensations of being in this place, the ‘texture’ of the environment and imaginary paths connecting my body, imagination, the land and sky.