I am a visual artist exploring notions of body and identity, filtered through a life of chronic illness. I am an outlier, pressing up against the glass of wellness, seeking to understand a form which is no longer whole. My history is littered with multiple surgeries, lengthy hospital stays and continual medical monitoring. Here, on the outside of health, I examine what it is to be made of blood and bone, cells, organs and tissues. My art is an investigation of the self as seen from the inside, couched in the complexity of material, texture, colour and form. It is a lens into the life of the infirm - magnifying the messy existence of humanity, coalescing into corporeal and emotional landscapes while pushing through the massive hurdle of disease. Informed by a degree in Anatomy and Cell Biology, my art refracts a microscopic world view through a body perpetually on the brink of war with itself.

The mediums I use are the vessels for these ideas. Beeswax and oil paint express the inner realms of the visceral body and the sensitive mind; with a pared down palette of red and blue paint, I employ the power of the minimal while channelling the energy of expression.

Made of reclaimed wood, rusted metal and cement, unpainted paintings cross the line into sculpture. In this ambiguous space, I build connections to the collective cognition, the memory of the object and the outside world, while drawing parallels to the wear and tear of the physical over time.
My art also speaks to a desire to live life despite, and in spite of, the obstacles I have faced, embracing the beauty in decay while seeking to understand the universal. Most of my work can be viewed as self-portraiture, where my identity as outsider in both art and life connects the personal to the political.
The focus on my infertility in recent works has demanded new materials; used clothing, hospital linens and collage have been added to my arsenal.  These mediums allow me to bring traditional female roles to the forefront of my practice, while forging deeper connections to elements of imperfection – the broken, the flawed and the discarded.

Frida Kahlo said “I paint myself because I am so often alone and because I am the subject I know best.” Illness affords the afflicted time to reflect on the fragility of life, yet my awe of the body remains. My art carries this intimate knowledge, alongside the wisdom of pain and the dream of release.  
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