Painting, or any creative endeavour for that matter, can be an incredibly isolating occupation. Even if you’re lucky enough to share a studio with other creatives, navigating the ins and outs of building and establishing a creative career can still feel like a difficult and cloudy path.

Over the past few years I’ve discovered a handful of resources, people and services that have made said path a little less cloudy. Some have helped shape my creative practice, others have offered invaluable business advice and a few have made the logistical and practical side of being an artist much easier.

These are the gold mines I have relied on religiously and wish I had known about (or had existed) sooner.

Arts Mentorships

Mentorships are one of the most valuable investments I’ve made in my career to date, having participated in three mentorship programs over my career so far.

The first program was The Art of Cultivation with Northern-Rivers based artist Heath Wae. This program ran for six weeks covering the five Taoist elements (wood, fire, earth, metal and water) and how they relate to living an artful life.

This program was less about practicality and business, and more about cultivating the creative practice and life you desire. I took this program at a pivotal time in my life, and would go as far to say this has been the biggest forward driver in my career this far. If Heath releases another program, I would 10/10 recommend.

The second program I participated in was a session with Australian arts curator and author, Amber Creswell Bell. I attended an arts masterclass and a 1:1 session with her shortly after. Amber is an expert when it comes to the Australian arts market and has a wealth of knowledge and insight when it comes to establishing yourself with galleries or taking a path of self-representation. You can find out more about mentoring with Amber here.

The third was with Sophia D’Urso of Art Support. Sophia is such a gem! Having spent over a decade working within galleries, art fairs and government she is a wealth of knowledge and I am lucky enough to share a workspace with her and try my luck at picking her brains on a daily basis. This year however I decided to invest in myself and book a proper session with her, and Sophia and I spent the best of two hours going over my plans, goals and hopes for where I see myself in the next five years. Sophia then created an incredibly detailed strategy plan which has been a god-send for me when it comes to staying on track. If you need help defining what you want or how to get there, then Sophia is your girl!

Nitty Gritty Podcast

One of my favourite recommendations to all artists is the podcast Nitty Gritty, hosted by artist Kate Florence. While it is particularly great for painters, the podcast covers a wide range of topics and there is so much practical and honest advice that can be applied across all disciplines. Kate is an expert at asking all the right questions to get as much juicy information as possible from her guests.

Every episode is wonderful, but if you’re new to the podcast, these are a few of my personal favourites:

• Bella McGoldrick – Selling Art Like Prada

• Kate Florence – The Gallery Red Flags That Cost me 250K

• Bianca Pintan – The Freedom of Sharing Creative Secrets

• Sasha Court – Fuck the Rules and Follow Your Intuition

• Rosie Woods - Murals, Self Comparison and Investing in Your Work

• And I’ll give myself a little shoutout because you’re here:
  Kate Florence & Holly Terry – Money Mindset, Approaching Galleries and Sharing Studios

Art Books

An absolute must in my opinion! Investing in art books is an incredibly important practice to me and continuously looking at (and reading about) art, both contemporary and historic, has been a critical aspect to my development as a painter. Sometimes simply perusing art books for the afternoon is just as important to me as spending the day painting. When I’m feeling a little stuck, taking the afternoon off to spend some time in my book collection is my go to and I always find myself feeling energised and inspired the next day.

Some favourites from my personal collection include:

• Jack Kabangu by Galleri Christoffer Egelund

• Australian Abstract by Amber Creswell Bell

• Any and every old Picasso book I can find. The Picasso museum in Paris had the most insane collection available to purchase.

• Spaces For Living by Tamsin Johnson.

• At Mid-Career by James Drinkwater.

• I’m currently desperately in search of One Year by Ines Longevial to be an excellent addition to an already great stack. Help a gal out if you know where I can score a copy!

Art Wank Podcast

The Art Wank podcast has some really great episodes which mostly delve into the lives and stories of artists and how they got to where they are now. Occasionally they interview arts professionals and curators too which offer some great insight into the arts as a business and the gallery side of things.

Supplies

I am lucky enough to have Create Art local to me, and without them things would be incredibly difficult. Aside from being absolute legends, Create Art supplies most of the Australian art shops with canvases, and onsite they provide a service to custom stretch, frame, unstretch… you name it, they do the works! I have them make all of my canvases and frames and they are always 10/10.

They also supply me with most of my paint, however I do shop from The Sydney Art Store, Eckersley’s and Jackson’s too.

Transport

A logistical recommendation but no less important is transport. I rely heavily on Logi Art for any art transportation on the East Coast of Australia. Logi Art runs every fortnight, and I feel completely at ease knowing my works will arrive safely and damage free. While I haven’t used them personally, I hear good things about Moving Art too which I believe run on alternate fortnights to Logi Art.

For any overseas transport, I use my supplier Create Art to pack my work in heavy duty timber crates to avoid damage. I do believe you must be a regular purchasing client of Create Art’s frames and canvases to take advantage of this freight service.

If you don’t have access to Create Art, another option for shipping overseas would be Pack & Send but I’d be sure to take out insurance on every shipment as the works are sent in heavy duty cardboard boxes rather than timber crates and I once had a forklift go through one of mine!

Residencies

I typically find artist residencies difficult to locate and even harder to apply for and more often than not end up putting them in the too-hard basket. Over the next 12 months however, I really want to invest more time in seeking out these opportunities as a change of scenery and a fresh perspective is such an important part of sustaining an ongoing creative practice.

Densi.Global is an excellent initiative founded by Australian artist Hannah Carrick and Azzmin Frances of Braer. The platform advertises and connects artists with residency opportunities across Australia, with I believe plans to expand globally.

While I’m yet to use it myself, I’m so glad it exists and I’m looking forward to exploring it when I need it.

Finding the right people and resources has been a lot of trial and error over the years and I’m sure there are many more gold mines out there that I’m yet to discover. I’d love for you to share any resources you’ve found invaluable along the way so this becomes a growing list we can all learn from :)

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When I was initially connected with Victorino from the Roamer Project, it was 8pm in Australia, the night before I was to fly to Paris for two weeks. I was absolutely stoked to be invited, though the process of getting two works prepared to go to Spain within the 15-hour window before I was due to board a plane felt like a daunting feat. Only three hours prior I had packed and rolled everything away and closed up shop for a much-needed break.

Fast forward less than eight hours, a detour via the studio on the way to the airport saw me unpacking, photographing and preparing my favourite works to be included in the project. Nothing like an adrenaline buzz to kick things off to a spicy start!

Roamer Project, now in its third edition, aims to bring together early career artists (typically pre-blue chip gallery representation) to showcase their work in an alternate setting. The roaming locations are specifically selected for their historical, architectural or unique setting (previously the Pyrenees and Castile), moving the needle on the long standing and traditional dynamic between artist and gallery, and the white-wall-in-blank-space viewing experience.

For me, the break away from the traditional model is the most exciting part, offering artists and viewers an opportunity to establish and participate in fresh, and much needed, visual narratives.

The third iteration, titled the Gredos Edition, explored the relationship between contemporary artistic practice, territory and memory. By placing the works in spaces imbued with symbolic identity, the landscape itself morphs into an active installation for the project’s narrative, incorporating cattle ranches, equestrian environments and ruins in the Sierra de Gredos mountains, Spain.

My practice primarily focuses on creating work that people can connect with on a sensory or emotional level, and it’s this very reason I find Roamer Project so exciting. I love the idea of artworks existing within unique spaces and taking on a different energy through that relationship. Because of their large scale, gestural presence, I think my works naturally lend themselves to this kind of environment.

In honesty, I adore all of the artists who participated in this year’s edition (and from previous additions, too - there is something about European curation that is so rich in appeal). Perhaps my favourite installs from this year were Megan Wheatly, Marco Laborda and Kathryn Armitage. The other incredible artists were Viktoryia S Dijk, Carmen Ceniga Prado, Lulu Stephenso, Felix Deschamps, Rolankay, Gena Milanesi, Daniel Roibal, Grace Mattingly, and yours truly.

Following the shoot in Extremadura, the works were then transported back to Madrid and hung in the most spectacular historic residence, dating back to the late 19^th century. The works were suspended on the stone walls of the courtyard, surrounded by lush ivy completing the charming garden setting. This was also the canvas for the cocktail party and opening reception where invited guests were able to experience the exhibition.

While sadly I couldn’t make it to Madrid for the opening reception, I’ve been so honoured to participate in such a visionary project with artists who are making their mark within the international art scene.

Thank you, Roamer Project!

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If you’re reading this, my bet is, like me, you’re an artist or some sort of creative trying to figure out who you are in a world that is either heavily gatekept or simply has no clear definition surrounding making art your profession.

For the past few months, I’ve been feeling myself entering murky territory. For the first time in a few years, my direction has felt uncertain, or perhaps I was becoming a little bit wobbly on my goals for the future.

Maybe it is simply another mental hurdle of navigating business on my own, or it could be, that as I enter my early to mid-thirties it feels like there’s more on the line (unlike my mid-twenties when it felt like there was room to make mistakes and fuck up). Questions surrounding motherhood, back up plans, mortgages and savings seem to come up at every turn, and god forbid someone mentions tax, or worse, superannuation.

In a quest for resolution and direction, I’ve been seeking the advice of others over and over again. What should I do? Which galleries should I approach? Should I approach galleries or let them approach me? Or should I work solely on my own?

By no surprise, everyone has a different answer. I quickly realised that everyone has their own beliefs shaped by their own experience, and these experiences were vast. Truth is, in this world of ‘art’, there is no one way to navigate it. There are many different types of artists, and many ways of working. The key, I’m figuring out, is contrary to the belief of many traditional gallerists, there are no rules. If you want to achieve something different, you’re going to have to do things differently.

Unfortunately, I do think there is an unspoken rule about how to define yourself in the art world. You’re either a serious, represented artist or you’re not. However, I think the tide is turning.

Social media has allowed artists to define themselves and connect with their audiences in a way that’s never been possible before, and this is putting pressure on long-standing institutions who have been doing things the same way for a long time.

Having tried, failed, and tried again at all of them, I thought I’d break down a three different models of being an ‘artist’ and share what I’ve learnt, for anyone currently at a crossroad like I have been many times over.

The Gallery Artist

It is safe to say I have tried this, time and time again after, in the past, having my sights set on representation, and representation only. In truth, I do believe that aligning yourself with a gallery has strong benefits and holds a valuable place at different junctures in the career of an artist. And, you’d want to hope so, given the gallery generally takes anywhere between 40-50% (most commonly the latter) of your sales.

After working with galleries for the past seven years, these are a few lessons I have learnt from aligning myself with this path.

1. Professional imagery of your work.
Perhaps the most important benefit of aligning yourself with a gallery is access to install images of your works hanging within a physical, professional looking space. Do not underestimate the value of the legitimisation of your work which comes with this type of visual content. If the gallery is not holding an exhibition of your work, it may not be formally hung or photographed. If this is the case, I don’t see any harm in requesting imagery or visiting the gallery in person (if possible) to take images of your own. This is always an incredibly worthwhile investment.

2. Legitimisation of your work and what it costs.
I do believe that buyers find safety in a gallery or a third party that manages the sales of artwork. Aligning yourself with a gallery (whether officially represented or not) demonstrates that you take yourself and your art career seriously, and I believe that means collectors are more likely to take you seriously too.

3. Access to a wider clientele.
Some art collectors, particularly those with a more old-school attitude towards art acquisition, may not be active on social media. Many galleries provide access to a clientele you may not find otherwise, and there is a strong value in that. Not to mention, most galleries have full-time staff dedicated to the sales and placements of artworks by artists within their stable.

4. Opportunities for professional growth.
Hopefully, the gallery you’re aligning yourself with demonstrates care in you as an artist and invests in your professional growth. If there is a gallery/artist affiliation, the gallery should encourage career development through residencies, prizes, exhibitions and considered marketing or PR that feels authentic to you both.

Sadly, I have not experienced this enough, though I am partly to blame. In the beginning of my career, I didn’t have the confidence to ask the hard questions as I didn’t want to seem too difficult. In hindsight, it would have been far easier to have those conversations early on, rather than waiting until the relationship was more established down the line.

The Self-represented Artist

If you’re anything like me, being in control of your own career is of significant importance. I enjoy connecting with my clients directly, and being able to define when, who, what and how my artworks are shared, released and sold. With access to social media, as artists and creatives, we have an incredibly powerful tool to market ourselves. By having access to a platform that allows you to establish and connect with your own audiences, you can curb the potential requirement for third parties like galleries and stores.

If you are opting to go this route, there are a few factors to consider.

1. Invest in creative ways to market and photograph your work and practice. Without a gallery, there is potential for your work to be taken less seriously, which may result in a slowing of price increases in the long term. However, given the absence of gallery commission, you can invest those funds (or part of them) into other avenues to legitimise your work. Professional photography, location hiring, props, events and META ads to name a few. Tip: art prizes are typically free or cheap to enter!

2. Build a mailing list.
If social media was ever to vanish, self-representation may mean a significant (or complete) loss of visibility. Building you mailing list over time will serve as a powerful tool (and backup) to directly communicate with your audience. I encourage all artists to utilise their mailing list regardless via exclusive catalogue releases or first access to available works.

3. Buy back your time when things feel overwhelming.
Similarly to above, without gallery commission, you could consider utilising this cash flow to invest in others who can support you in areas that are not your strong suit. Last year, I invested in a team member to help me with everything related to online – graphic design, marketing, PR and website. This has been by far the most beneficial investment to date.

The Bit-of-Both Artist

Now for the most exciting path (IMO), and the path I think I’ve landed on (for now). Doing a bit of both provides you with the freedom of being responsible for your own career, while having the opportunity to utilise gallery benefits.

A few things to keep front of mind if this path feels aligned for you (and things I act on and remind myself of constantly).

1. To achieve different results, you’ll need to do things differently.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Sometimes sticking to this model of working can make you vulnerable to the influence of others (particularly galleries or industry experts) sharing their opinions on the way things “should” be done.

Recently, this happened after a project I’d been planning for months was recommended against, as it could affect how galleries perceived me. I was completely thrown! I left this meeting feeling flat and uninspired.

After sleeping on it and discussing with people sitting external to the inner art world, I decided why shouldn’t I do it? If I don’t want to follow the same path as every artist before me, I’ll need to step outside of the box. If a gallery was to not take me seriously because I was expanding my own horizons, then they probably are not the right gallery for me. I would have likely ended up feeling caged and restricted.

2. Get really clear on what you want and stick to it.
Write it down so you don’t forget! This is one of the most important things, and something I always recommend. If you’re not strictly represented and are forging your own path, it is likely things will come to you that you hadn’t ever imagined in the first place. This is a beautiful thing!

While it is important to try things on for size (regardless of whether you fail or succeed), some avenues can throw you off kilter and set you back a few steps. Returning to your vision and your why, at least annually, is an invaluable practice.

3. Don’t sit around and wait for things to come to you (to a point).
This is a big one! I spent a mentoring session once discussing this. There is huge value in creating space and inviting things in. While I truly do believe in divine timing and that things will unfold naturally, I also think too much of this can be a hindrance. For example, if you held off on doing something because you were hoping that Gallery X might approach you, you could be waiting forever. I would be guided by what feels natural and aligned to you in the moment and actively seek them out (while always returning to your why), allowing things to come to you along the way.

In yoga, there is a term called Sthira Sukham Asanam, meaning applying equal amounts of strength and ease. This extends beyond the practice alone and into life itself.

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By now you’ve probably seen plastered all over social media that yes, I went to Paris.

Much like everyone on earth that ever goes to Paris, I loved it. I would liken not liking Paris to not liking dogs. An immediate red flag.

Living on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland, we are blessed with many natural wonders and a slower paced lifestyle, which makes it easy to forget the importance of an inspiration hit from a lively city with an equally deep history rich in art, food, wine (!!) and well, everything.

We visited in winter, and I’ll admit, it is my favourite time to visit a city! I love layering (in Queensland, layering is limited to a maximum of 5 days of coolish weather a year), matcha after matcha in sweet corner cafes and sneaking into warm cosy bars for an afternoon vino. The lines for galleries and museums are also much shorter, or completely non-existent, meaning accessibility to view art is much greater than in the summer.

The thing I love most about Paris, or any metropolitan European city for that matter, is the appreciation and respect for art. There is a gallery or a design-led brand around most corners, and the weirder the better. If I’m honest, I don’t believe art or design is celebrated in the same way here in Australia. In Europe, creative risk taking is celebrated and art and design is bold, serving as a continuous reminder that truly making art isn’t about reproducing or creating something because you think someone might like it.

While I’ll be silencing everyone who is visiting Paris this summer while I’m at home chained to the paintbrushes, here is how I’d spend five days if I was so lucky to be visiting, again.

To begin the day

A morning run (or stroll) along the Seine
Basic advice but the best advice. We stayed in Le Marais, the 4th arrondissement on Rue Saint-Antoine, where the Seine sits just a block or two away.

Starting there, I ran every morning towards the Eiffel Tower, with no real route in mind. Leaving early (7am), the streets were deserted (bar a few fellow joggers). I got my first view of the Eiffel Tower, accidentally stumbled across the Louvre, and got to witness the sun rise behind the buildings, flooding the city with fresh golden light. In the winter, the pedestrian only track running along the river is occasionally closed due to flooding, but I prefer to run along the streets anyway.

Jardin Luxembourg
75006 Paris, France
Another accidental visit on an early morning run. I’d seen the gardens in pictures many times but didn’t have any plans to visit, so I’m pleased I stumbled upon this gem. It was still early and the crowds were sparse, but next time I’ll be sure to return around midday as everyone bathes in the sun over lunch.

Brunch at Cortado
31 Rue Charlot, 75003 Paris, France
As a painter who draws a lot of inspiration on the small moments of life and all its little idiosyncrasies, Cortado is hands down my favourite café in Paris. Spanish in style, it has a laid-back atmosphere and serves the best coffee, matcha and Pan Con Tomate on the most to die for sourdough. With a perfect window bench for people-watching, we spent countless hours here observing the local patrons come and go.
Pro tip: visit during Paris Fashion Week and the content will be priceless.

Gluten Free Pastries at Bien Epicerie Bio
8 Rue des Quatre-Fils, 75003 Paris, France
It’s an absolute punish to travel with a preference for gluten free, but I’ll admit Paris was not too bad on this front. It was an impossible task to face the 900m walk from our apartment to Cortado without stopping at Bien Epicerie Bio for a Gluten Free Pain Au Chocolat as a pre matcha snack. I’m not coeliac, and even though the French wheat is ‘soft wheat’ and far easier to digest, I still found myself reaching for the Gaviscon after a few days indulging on pastries, bread and pasta, so this little daily treat made me feel like I was being kind to myself, if only once a day.

While we didn’t make it there, I’ve heard that Copains on Rue Tiquetonne is also a must for GF goods.

I’d go one of a few ways next

Musée National Picasso
5 Rue de Thorigny, 75003 Paris, France
Just around the corner from Cortado and Bien Epicerie Bio is the Musée National Picasso. I’m not sure why I wasn’t expecting much from this museum, but it was one of my highlights.

As I mentioned above, we visited in the winter, so we didn’t need to book ahead and more or less had the place to ourselves (tip: I would definitely book in the Summer). The exhibition hanging at the time was ‘Philip Guston, L’ironie de l’histoire’. Viewing the works in person was particularly special and a clear favourite of mine was ‘Studio Landscape’ (1975). His use of oil stick on this piece was the most delicious thing I have ever seen and inspired me to delve into using them when I got home (currently still trial and error, watch this space).

If you’re not visiting for the art itself, it’s worth it alone for the gift store. Art book heaven! I’m absolutely kicking myself I didn’t purchase more books, but at the time my suitcase was already 5kg over and I was only on week one.

Amelie Du Chalard
18 Rue Séguier, 75006 Paris, France
Amelie Du Chalard was hands down the most incredible space I’ve ever been in, art gallery or otherwise. Quite unassuming from the street, what lies beyond is truly something else. We turned up without an appointment (tip: make an appointment), but luckily for us after enough lurking we managed to get in.

Rather than a traditional gallery, the large space is meticulously designed, the art extending beyond the walls and into the furnishings. Works by Marina Arias, Amy Wright, Bonnie Colin and Gabriele Herzog were a standout for me.

193 Gallery
24 Rue Béranger, 75003 Paris, France
We stumbled upon 193 Gallery by chance when attempting to retrace our steps to a glorious vintage pop up in the Marais. I wasn’t familiar with the gallery prior to visiting, but am now all over it. Turns out they are a major player in the contemporary art scene, exhibiting works by artists such as Hyangmok Baik, Lorenzo Vitturi (an absolute favourite of mine) and Rob Tucker, who, lucky for us, was showing on our visit.

Boulevard Saint Germain
On our way to another art gallery, we walked along Boulevard Saint Germain. This area is well known for its contemporary galleries and specialised art. Sadly, we visited on a Monday, when most stores were closed. The select few that were open were a must, and we will be returning to this area for a more thorough peruse next time.

Versailles and Château de Versailles
Place d'Armes, 78000 Versailles, France
Probably one of the most underrated experiences, visiting Versailles was everything! We booked a Versailles by Bike tour, and because of the low season were lucky enough to have the guide to ourselves.

First stop was the local town markets to secure the goods (100 euro of olives, meats, a selection of cheeses, preserves and bread later, but perhaps the best 100 euro spent) for a picnic by the Grand Canal, which followed with a pit stop at Angelina for a hot chocolate.

Naturally, the inside of Versailles was equally as incredible, and a memory I’ll carry with me forever. I created a number of paintings from this experience upon my return, namely ‘Girlfriend Chair, Versailles’ which is based on the most beautiful pink velvet chairs adorning Marie Antoinette’s bedroom.

Spend a day wandering Le Marais
Rather than jam pack every single day, I prefer to travel with less scheduled activities, allowing time for exploring and finding stores and sites you wouldn’t have otherwise. It’s these moments that often prove the richest and most inspiring, watching the by-passers and hearing snippets of conversations as they pass.

We spent about four days of our 10 solely dedicated to wandering Le Marais. Rue De Turenne is particularly great for vintage shopping. And for new, Sabre, Miista, Alohas, Ganni and a number of epic concept stores (just to name a very select few) are scattered throughout the streets.

Union de la Jeunesse Internationale
2-4 Blvd Marguerite de Rochechouart, 75018 Paris, France
If you are heading towards the Sacre Coeur or Montmartre, this interestingly designed cultural centre is a must stop, blending a public gallery space, library, cafeteria, with handmade goods for sale throughout (tip: if ordering a matcha from the café, ask for half strength).

To end the day

Carboni’s
45 Rue de Poitou, 75003 Paris, France
Book this one in advance! Carboni’s was my pick of the lot! We visited on the second night of the trip and came back again before we left. Romantically lit, the space is adorned with cosy seating and the walls are lined with vintage wine bottles. I ate the same thing both times, the lamb shoulder and the Gnocchi. I still dream of this meal three months on.

Le Petit Italien
5 Rue Saint-Gilles, 75003 Paris, France
Not very French of us, I know! We found Le Petit Italien on one of our shopping escapades and it did not disappoint. The olives were unreal. The bread, also unreal.

Having visited the very famous Chez Janou on our first night in Paris (mum fell asleep at the table), we were too tired to care for the chocolate mousse, a decision which haunted me for the following two weeks. Turns out Le Petit Italien also has the Chez Janou mousse (same owners), so thankfully I got to try this before we left! It’s not viral for no reason, I’d fly to Paris just for this.

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Part One left us in 2023, I was in a state of burnout and the gallery I was about to exhibit with had fallen into administration.

Losing a twenty-five-piece solo show, three weeks out was less than ideal. Safe to say, I was completely down in the dumps.

Despite the setback, it was around this time that two seemingly minor things occurred that turned out to be monumental in the trajectory of my career.

2023 Continued.

Given I couldn’t mentally or physically paint another work within my then ‘style’, I began intentionally wrecking my works, painting over them without any forethought, and ferociously scrapbooking on the side.

I’d collect images of paintings I loved, print them off, and cut them up into collages. Completely back to basics, art school style. What I didn’t know at the time was that this activity was one of the major turning points for me, shifting the ‘templates’ I had fallen into recreating, and providing me with much needed alternate ways of viewing shape, colour and composition.

Until this point I was afraid to take risks and my work slipped into rigidity. I was terrified that the ‘success’ I’d built (if that is what you’d call it) could be taken away from me as quickly as it had arrived. I didn’t know it then, but this fear was ultimately hand-braking me from exploring my creativity further.

At the same time, Heath Wae, a Northern Rivers based artist I had admired for years, had released a mentorship program called the Art of Cultivation.

Relative to me at the time, it was expensive. Too expensive given the financial blow I’d just experienced, but something in my gut told me to go for it. I’ve always had an easy-come, easy-go approach with finances and a strong belief in investing in myself and my career. This approach certainly feels daunting but to this day it hasn’t failed me yet, or at the very least has always taught me a valuable lesson in what not to do next time.

During this program my practice shifted dramatically. I felt like I had nothing to lose and risk taking was beginning to feel more comfortable. Exploring new ways of working was encouraged by Heath and because of this, the work I was making from this place felt authentic and exciting – a feeling I had lost touch with for a long time prior.

2024

A lesson in trusting my gut

Within a few months, a European gallery I had set my sights on two years prior emailed me with a request for works on consignment. They had followed me online for some time and my guess is that they had been watching my growth, waiting for the right time to make contact.

I was ecstatic and quickly began visualising how this very relationship would alter the course of my career, but something felt off. The email I received was overly direct, business-like and expectant. The communication lacked terms and information beyond basic instruction, simply just a ‘send us these works’, and that was it. I wanted it to work so badly.

This is where I went against my gut feeling.

After hastily weighing the pros and cons (how bad could it really be?), I sent several large works to Europe, a cost upwards of $8,000! My career was about to change, after all. But change it did not.

The gallery merely placed the works online with an AI interior style photo and I’m certain they were never physically hung. After this, I swore to myself that would be the last time I went against my gut.

Permission

After a year of multiple stop-start (or should I say start-stop) gallery relationships, my creative momentum was finally returning, I felt as though my expression was becoming more authentic, and I was letting go of preconceived ideas surrounding financial outcome.

I began working with Wentworth Galleries in Sydney, a pivotal relationship that formed after I responded to an online open call for emerging artists (the first time I had seen a gallery openly accept unsolicited applications). Quickly, the gallery encouraged me to explore within my practice, to continue working on a large scale and provided me with the comfort to express myself freely. While it’s certainly not required, it was the permission slip I needed. I do believe that sometimes simply receiving permission is the greatest gift you can receive.

Then came the major turning point. After two years of consideration, I decided to follow the lead of my friend and fellow artist, Kate Florence, and started regularly working with a photographer in an effort to improve the quality of my imagery for social media.

As much as I dislike the fact that social media is a significant aspect of my practice, I won’t sugarcoat the importance of it. Since this decision almost two years ago, my audience has more than quadrupled in size.

2025

A mentally slippery slope

In the two years that followed, life was full yet chaotic, and as my career expanded I was becoming increasingly frazzled.

Professionally, my career was snowballing in a positive direction, but mentally I was on a slippery slope. In the space of one year, my husband and I purchased our first home, renovated (as DIY as you could get), got married, and had dozens of interstate and international commitments.

Life became a delicate balance between tuning into my increasingly emotional turmoil to create artwork (and there was A LOT of it, close to 100 pieces in 2025 alone) while simultaneously trying to avoid said turmoil from consuming me.

I’ve struggled with my mental health since I was 15, and to this day have a difficult time managing anxiety, depression and OCD. I’ve always found it important to use these ‘characteristics’ as a source of creativity, however by mid 2025 my mental health was hitting an all-time low. I was spent.

Forever a masking extraordinaire, you’d never have known it, but simple things like dinners with friends were beginning to feel tough.

2026

Realignment

I spent months prioritising my mental health and making alterations to support it, and in early 2026, for the first time in a long time, I began to feel like my personal life was aligning with the positivity that was occurring within my career.

It was at this time I welcomed my marketing-all-round-online genius Vanessa onto my team, and this, along with the momentum I was building personally gave me the spark and space to explore new avenues of working. I’ve been able to pour my energy into things which once felt too overwhelming and have begun to visualise my future while putting the wheels in motion to sustain my career moving forward.

This brings us to today. This year, much like the ones before it, there is a lot happening and many moving parts. Looking forward, my plan is to move a *little* slower and create with more intention. Don’t get me wrong, I have very strong, clear goals moving forward but I am excited by the challenge.

What actually helped: Years 4 – 7

The most important things that helped me build and sustain my art career from year four until today.

01. PRIORITISE YOUR HEALTH
What I have come to realise is that there is no point to it all if you don’t have your health. Your practice isn’t going anywhere, and regardless of what people say, time is on your side. It can feel easy to fall into the habit of rushing things, and working towards your goals at a rapid rate. But at the end of the day, the tortoise beats the hare. Seriously!

Your creativity needs to be nurtured, and if you work yourself too much, too quickly, it won’t play nice. Sure, there are rare instances where a single artwork will alter the course of your career, but all in all, consistency is the key.

Living an artful life while committing to my practice in a way that feels sustainable to me is something I find myself coming back to again and again, in the name of my health.

02. AVOID THE COMPARISON TRAP
While I wish we could all be a little more transparent, Instagram (or whichever social platform you engage with) typically only shows you the best bits, and the last two years of my own experience proves this. It may look like someone is succeeding professionally, and while they very well may be, you don’t see the full picture or the sacrifices they’ve made to get there.

Attempting to stay in my lane and avoid comparison has been the biggest challenge, but when I master it, is the most rewarding attitude. Comparison really is the thief of joy.

03. INVEST IN YOURSELF
Know when the time is right to seek support. This has been a huge turning point for me. Whether it was investing in mentorship, a fortnightly photographer to professionally shoot my work or hiring Vanessa – each action has been instrumental to the growth in my career over the past two years. While it can feel like a big financial leap, when utilised correctly it will only pay off in the long run.

04. VISUALISATION
Such a wanky term I know, but I truly do believe that consistent visualisation of your goals will set you on the path that feels exciting to you. Not because some higher power will make it happen, but because with clear goals, your actions will naturally lead you towards achieving ‘that thing’.

I’ve always been head strong about where I want to go, but this year I’ve made it a priority to seek support of professionals within the industry when I feel like my vision is becoming diluted or a little off path. I find the very act of doing this realigns me and brings my vision back in focus.

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Just last week I was in discussion with a few of the artists in my shared studio about the deep hustle that is required to do what we do and call it a job.

Around the same time, my husband casually suggested that I might be the type of person that always wants more. After ten minutes of scolding him from an irrationally wounded place, I concluded that he was probably right. As much as I’d love to be more *relaxed*, never seeking the next thing, I am not. And I don’t think I would be where I am today if I was.

I’m much better at looking forward than I am at looking back, the truth is it has always kind of icked me out.

Beginning: 2020

It really began back in 2020. A year when insomnia consumed my life, keeping me wide awake between the hours of 10pm – 6am on the second floor of my Fitzroy share house.

Bleary eyed and unrelentingly tired, I had been calling in sick day after day at my office job for the better part of two months. I wasn’t enjoying my job and the difficulty in having a lack of freedom was really starting to take its toll.

In 2019, I decided to enrol in a yoga teacher training in the hopes this would lead me down a calmer career path. I cannot remember what had sparked my painting of twisted yogic figures that year, I think it was some sort of attempt at stress-relief, but a conversation with a fellow yoga teacher trainee, Georgia, stands out. By the end of our month-long training she had convinced me to share my blocky, semi-abstract paintings online.

Having uploaded a few Instagram stories without so much as thinking, a few of my friends had purchased a painting for around $50. I was absolutely stoked. One month later, covid hit and I was relieved from my job.

The lack of responsibility of my early twenties, corresponding with being financially supported because of the covid crisis, provided me with a few months dedicated solely to creating for the sake of it.

As much as I would love to tell you this was born out of long nights juggling multiple jobs, sheer dedication and years of near starvation, I can’t. At least not in the beginning. I’m not sure it would have worked out had it not been a perfectly imperfect shit-show such as covid.

Had I kept working in my 40-hour-per-week office job or lost government income, I highly doubt my creative practice would have found its feet.

Time is a luxury. And I’m not ignorant to the fact that most people don’t have it.

Momentum: 2021 - 22

After a year of working from my poorly-lit, uninspiring home ‘studio’ (aka carpeted spare bedroom) I blindly submitted my work to a gallery I’d been admiring since the very beginning. Much to my disbelief, the director responded with an invitation to participate in a group show and a debut solo the following year.

While I was excited, I don’t think I really understood the magnitude of this. I was very blasé about the opportunity. Even now, six years on, having a solo at the same gallery would still be considered an incredible blessing.

Following a successful solo show, I still didn’t allow myself to really feel proud of the achievement or take a moment to revel in the distance I had come in just one year. I don’t think I do this enough even today, nor do I meet many artists that do. Seeking the next thing quickly felt like the most natural step forward.

Hastily, I began discussions for my next solo show, which got booked for October that year with a well-known interior brand based in Melbourne.

The move away from a traditional gallery setting to a home interiors brand felt like a good decision at the time and one that proved useful in allowing an element of freedom to direct my own practice, while earning enough money to continue forward.

The shift in direction felt easy then, what is hard, however, comes later. And one I am still trying to figure out: the step away from interiors focused brands, back into a gallery setting. While I wouldn’t call the move from gallery to interiors a mistake, I do at times wonder what could have happened if I hadn’t made the jump so quickly after my first solo.

While the debut show was a sell-out, there was a sense of rejection when I wasn’t immediately invited back. What I understand now is that this is not something every artist has the honour of, nor is it necessarily how galleries operate.

Understanding the inner workings of a gallery, and the difference between business and personal would have benefited me back then. Though I really was just figuring it out one step at a time.

Exhaustion: 2023

The second show came, then the third, and without blinking I had arranged my fourth show to be held in a significantly large space, requiring over twenty-five artworks. In just my third year of professional practice, this was an enormous undertaking, both mentally and financially.

Things had really started to pick up and works were selling quickly. While I was grateful, I could feel myself tiring. I had grounded myself within a certain style and was beginning to feel restricted within it. With an exhibition looming, the opportunities to experiment felt few and far between.

Just three weeks out from my fourth exhibition, the company who was hosting it unexpectedly liquidated. I was completely and utterly heartbroken. How on earth would I recover the finances already spent making and marketing the show, which was due to be delivered the following week?

In hindsight, this was a blessing. I was exhausted and had found myself remaking the same works just to have something to hang, and I was far from proud of them. The feeling of owning a work and being proud of it, is unmatched. These works are a part of you. I do not have children, but I imagine the feeling might be similar.

I had known for some time this feeling was missing, but I didn’t yet have the confidence within myself to stop when something wasn’t working. Something I wouldn’t figure out for a few more years.

What actually helped: Years 1 – 3

While I still have so much to learn, I can confidently speak on the four most important things that helped me build my practice into a sustainable career in my first three years.

01. TIME
Perhaps the most important thing in helping me establish my practice. In that first year, having the opportunity and freedom to explore was huge. I am well aware that this kind of time is a luxury, but if you can steal even small slithers of it for yourself, I promise it will pay off ten-fold.

02. SOCIAL MEDIA
A love/hate relationship at its finest. Instagram has been the single most effective tool in propelling my career forward.

I spent the first three years sharing works without too much planning or thought, and if I was lucky enough that someone asked to buy something, I would sell it and move onto the next piece. This gave me momentum and confidence in what I was making.

Instagram also acted, and still does, as a visual CV for collectors and galleries to view my work and process. It became a place where people could connect with me, and I truly believe that if people connect with you, they’re far more likely to connect with your work. I learnt from my dear friend and often-times unofficial mentor, Kate Florence, that acting authentically online is the one thing that sets you apart from every other product being flogged on the net. While easier said than done, I believe that matters more than anything.

03. WORKING MULTIPLE JOBS
With the ebbs and flows of working as an artist, I was very quickly reminded that there were times that I did in fact need to work. I am of the opinion that nothing kills creativity more than financial stress and so it became a constant balancing act between buying myself time and buying myself art supplies. Call me unreliable, and I’m certain many of my employers did, but I quickly learnt to recognise when I was required to work for someone else, and when my practice required my full attention.

That said, there does come a point where you will need to dive in headfirst and take a punt on yourself, even if it means stepping into the financial unknown. If you can, allow yourself a full twelve months to work hard at your practice and see where you’re at once it concludes. I only became a full-time painter two years ago.

04. UNRELENTING SELF BELIEF
The most cliché but still the most important. I have never been the type of person to wait for an invitation, so from early on I took it upon myself to reach out to galleries and put myself forward. I have received far more rejection than acceptance, and it still stings now, maybe even more, but I don’t sit in it for long. It’s not that I think my work is groundbreaking, because I often don’t, but I do believe in myself. I trust that if I keep going, something will eventually stick, and if it doesn’t, it’s probably for the best. Another door will always open.