This series of paintings has grown out of Jasper like mould, a response to the rainforest that both surrounds and inhabits me. The filtered dappled light, the depths of shadow, the weight of humidity—everything here breathes, pulses, grows. Spores, lichen, moss, fungus—they cling to every surface, just as they take root within me.

The rainforest isn’t just outside; it’s inside. The constant hum of cicadas, crickets, frogs, and rain merges with my own rhythms. The heat, menopause, and migraines shift my vision, distorting perception like the ever-changing textures of the forest.

Returning to painting after years feels like a rewilding, a reawakening. In Kuku Yalanji, Madja—the word for rainforest—demands respect. She is boss. She reminds me that we are not separate; she lives in me as much as I live in her.