From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a deep love for drawing and painting. Throughout my school years, from primary to secondary, I spent far more time perfecting the designs for my projects than focusing on the content itself. It wasn’t until Year 9, however, that I encountered a turning point. Ms. O’Leary, with her incredible talent, introduced us to a whole new world of creativity. She had an amazing ability to bring out the best in each of us, and her art classes became the highlight of my school day. Many a recess was spent with fellow students working on our projects, and it was in Year 9 that we were required to buy a 72-box set of Derwent pencils—this marked the beginning of my true artistic journey.

At home, I set up my makeshift studio in my bedroom, where a kitchen stool served as my easel, and oil paints and canvases were always ready whenever inspiration struck. Every night in Year 11, I would drift off to sleep surrounded by the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, much to my mother’s dismay. The kitchen table and bench were often covered with scattered pencils as I worked on my latest piece.

Looking back, I’m incredibly grateful for both my art and sports; they helped me navigate what was a very challenging time. My family made the decision for me to change schools and live with our dear family friends, the O'Briens, on the Mornington Peninsula to complete Year 12. The art class at my new school was quite different, though, and I often felt that my art teacher didn’t appreciate me. Her focus was mainly on art theory, and she graded me harshly. Thankfully, I found solace in studying the Impressionists, particularly Vincent van Gogh. For my Year 12 exam, I ended up writing Van Gogh’s life story in my own words, likely missing the point of the question entirely! For my practical assignment, I spent three days on each drawing and created a large oil painting of Mount Martha Beach, a 1.5m by 2m canvas that, to this day, is probably gathering dust at the Violet Town tip.

At the end of Year 12 in 1987, I had to decide on a career path. In my heart, I wanted to pursue fine art, but my art teacher strongly discouraged it, saying that artists don’t make money unless they have a unique edge. She told me my work wasn’t of a high enough caliber. I finished Year 12 with an A-, and despite my desire to study art, I ended up pursuing a career in primary education, teaching for only a week before realizing it wasn’t for me. That A- felt like a major failure, and my teacher’s words echoed in my mind. It would be 30 years before I picked up a paintbrush again.

In 2017, I went through a particularly difficult time—one of those "dark nights of the soul." I felt lost, disconnected, and unable to find passion in anything. Life had become a monotonous routine of work, eat, sleep, repeat. I had faced setbacks, and the life I had envisioned—complete with a house, three kids, and the perfect family—hadn't materialized. I felt trapped by my own expectations of what my life was supposed to be.

Then, on a particularly rough morning, I had a chance encounter that would change everything. That afternoon, my nephew was born, giving me a new reason to move forward. It was on that day that I decided to hire a life coach. Our first call was transformative. She gave me a simple exercise, and suddenly, it clicked: I was going to write an inspirational children's book, a project that I completed in early 2022. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of a much bigger journey.

In the months that followed, as I searched for an illustrator for the book, I visited the Kinglake Ranges Art Show and met Barbara Hauser, my future art teacher and mentor. After carefully reviewing the work on display, I knew I had found the right person. I began art lessons with Barbara in her studio in late 2017, and it was there that I started painting again after a 30-year hiatus. The moment I touched the brush, it felt like a profound realization washed over me—I was home. This was my passion, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Over the next 18 months, I painted weekly with Barbara until she went overseas for an exhibition. At first, I felt uncertain about painting on my own, but soon her words of guidance became ingrained in me, and I painted with newfound confidence. During this time, I even sold some of my work, which fueled my desire to keep going. I was immensely proud of what I had accomplished.

One evening, I was watching a documentary on Misty Copeland, the principal ballerina of the American Ballet Theatre. My dear friend Monique, who had been a constant source of support, often spoke of Misty. Her story of overcoming doubt and being told she wasn’t good enough resonated deeply with me. Inspired by her, I became obsessed with painting Misty. The piece I’m most proud of to date, “Grande Jeté,” was born from that inspiration. It now resides in a private collection in New South Wales, owned by another remarkable woman I met along my journey. We remain in touch to this day.

By 2020, with renewed courage and a sense of purpose, I launched my website and for the first time shared my artwork with the world. The COVID-19 pandemic, though challenging in many ways, gave me the time and clarity I needed to take this next step.