Since I was very young I noticed people around me had pictures drawn on their bodies. I noticed the trash collectors had tattoos on their forearms, legs.

It is 11:42 PM and I should be asleep. This one keeps coming back to me - wave after wave, feels like I'm drowning, pulling against the stream etc.

Soul deep, in our lives through lines etched round eyes, paths appear before us and we find our steps in unison as kindred. Through breath, hearing not listening, seeing not looking. A two-world feeling, surreal, mindful, as lovers we walk long walk, speak long speak, journey long journey.

I choose to live my life by one accord - Libre D’être. Free to be. Stand free. Free to be me.

Some say 'wrong' is not a word but until I find something to replace it with easily it will remain. A bit like saying anger is a useless and pointless emotion, where forgiveness quells the soul and then brings on the saint.

After about of severe depression brought on by a broken shoulder, twenty-four (2) Endone tablets, and as many bottles of wine I set out to reclaim my brain creative.

For a brief period of time I was afforded a reality which was exciting, rewarding, safe and happy as I house shared with my boss, rallying the VET sector to engage with the Internet and occasionally myself creating art work amongst it all.

It fills me with joy waking everyday knowing that it will always be the case, that the child that I lost and the four I have as being the most blessed of people I will ever have an enduring and loving relatedness with.

The symbolic entrance to business establishments in the Margaret River region of Western Australia is often open for ripe parody.

These works are derivative of a trip that I made out to Meekatharra as part of a mining | drilling | rigging gig. Using the drill core sample I combined this with shellac and gold leaf to create works which are emblematic of the experience of being out there on Country, where the landscape is peppered with abandoned mining leases like cancer drilling holes in a body.

My solo exhibition in 2003 at Gomboc Gallery brought to a close an epic journey in love, loss, and grief with the passing of my late Father-in-Law, David Gregson, and the divorce from his eldest Daughter, Dimity Gregson.

In 2003 I submitted a proposal to the McClelland Survey and Award along with collaborative Artist, Robert Muir who I was working with at the time with audiophonic and plundophonic works, installation and other arts related projects in the community.

Deep in the Glenn Valley was once a thriving winery and fruit farm. Through the years the toll of lack of water and hard country took the family business to ruin.

Across the wheatbelt of West Australia lies strewn through countless fields, along creek lines, paddocks, rocky outcrops and bushland literally millions of tonnes of discarded steel from farming practices.