2025: A Year of Change, Confidence & Bloody Good Paintings

As December rolls around, I always think about those Christmas cards with the long circular letters tucked inside. They get a bad rap — laziness, grandstanding, busy-signalling — and I’m never entirely sure why. I always liked them. A whole year’s news in one go. Some you’d heard, some you hadn’t. Pictures were a bonus.

I’ve sent maybe one in my entire life. Self-consciousness is a lifelong companion, and the idea of summarising myself on paper always felt a bit… much. These days, I receive perhaps two overseas cards, and last year, I finally didn’t send any; it was my first act of non-compliance after decades of adhering to the tradition.

This year, I even bought Aussie-themed cards in November, and here we are, early December, and they’re still in their box.
So this is my roundup, which I will most definitely not be enclosing in a Christmas card.

2025 was a rollercoaster of life events and art events. Here’s the honest version.

Moving House: Six Months of Mild/Absolute Madness

Moving house consumed the first half of 2025. The house had gone on the market in August 2024, and by the new year, we were ready for a few reality checks. We have always had a champagne taste. Preparing for open homes under today’s ludicrous expectations drove me batty. The only upside? A pristine, styled house once a week, briefly.

People ask why we moved. The answer is simple: it was time. Our acreage made me tired just looking at it. There’s always more to do, always, and it’s either expensive or physically gruelling. Great exercise, yes, but my body certainly lodged its complaints.

The move itself was a nightmare, but five months in, we adore our new coastal life on a normal-sized block. Less house to clean. Walls that take hours, not days, to paint. Our garden is currently grass with one lonely mandarin tree, but summer storms have rolled in, and the planting has begun.

A New Studio & A New Beginning

My new studio is under the house — 2.2m high, freshly painted white (including the floor), and much easier to pop into than the mountainous trek at Cedar Creek. I do miss the ink-black nights and silence, but not the snakes.

Painting in a new studio felt strange at first. My first piece here was for Pretty in Pink for Studio One Noosa, on canvas, no less. (Quality canvas does make a difference, though I remain a wood panel devotee.)

Since moving, I’ve created two new collections:
Feast for Stevens Street Gallery, and My Favourite Things for the December small works shows at a variety of galleries.

A piece from that series — my Lemon — will be an Instagram giveaway this week.

The Almost-Cyclone Solo Show

My solo show in March was massive. It was almost derailed by Cyclone Alfred, which thankfully didn’t live up to predictions, though there was a tiny part of us that felt slightly let down. The show went ahead the following week.

I created 21 pieces for The Churn Room. The double-height space and patinated walls were ideal, and I loved working at scale. I ran two workshops alongside the show, boiling-hot, no-water, uninsulated-tin roof situations, and they were still a massive success.

Art Fairs, Nerves & Adrenaline

I showed at all three Australian Affordable Art Fairs this year. They’re thrilling and exhausting in equal measure.
Alicia and Toni at SSG do an extraordinary amount of behind the scenes graft to make it all possible.

Fairs are buzzy, social, exhilarating and also anxiety-inducing, competitive, and emotionally sharp-edged. I convinced myself that whatever I sent, big or small the buyer would inevitably want the opposite.

Art Lab & The Ah Ha Moments

Our Art Lab exhibition in August–September was a joy. I created sixteen A4 works exploring the ideas, insights and shifts that Art Lab has brought to my practice.
The Hub team in Caboolture curated and hung the show beautifully; my sixteen works, aligned in a perfect rectangle, were a particular delight.

Galleries, Teaching, & Goodbye Lot 20

I continued showing at Aspire in Paddington and Stevens Street in Yandina, two different but wonderful gallery relationships.

I paused my weekly classes in September 2024. I missed my students, but having a timetable-free week (especially during house sale chaos) was bliss.

Throughout the packing process, I continued painting. It was my escape from the relentlessly tidy, impersonal house and the many, many boxes. Up until a week before we moved, I was working on Goodbye Lot 20, a still-life collection celebrating the flora of our block. Painting in the studio was my sanity break.

Business, Bravery & Learning to Ask for Help

In July, I began an online art business course. I was so ready, tired of not knowing what to do next, frustrated by making strong work but not selling enough of it. I wanted responsibility and ownership.

It has been a vertical learning curve. I’ve learned to ask for help (a major breakthrough). I’ve rebuilt my website (again), rebranded, and yes, learned to love ChatGPT, despite the naysayers, because it can be “me but better” when I’m stretched thin.

Marketing and selling don’t come naturally to me. The five-year-old introvert from the north-east of England is alive and kicking, and she hates saying, “Buy my work, it’s ace.” I’m working on it. She’s stubborn.

Looking Ahead

I have two shows booked for next year and I’m already working towards them.

Every year is big in its own way.
But 2025 was a year of change, growing confidence — and I made some bloody good paintings.
That alone feels monumental.