Furniture decor
Furniture Decoration — Art You Can Live With. Working with furniture brings me a particular kind of joy. Three-dimensional objects are experienced from all sides, revealing a different picture as you move around them. There is something deeply satisfying about applying art to forms that are not only observed, but used and lived with every day. Chairs, tables, cabinets, and screens become surfaces where colour, texture, and form extend beyond the wall.
Decorated furniture has the power to anchor a room. It can become a focal point, decisively unify a colour palette, or bring cohesion to an interior style. When art moves into functional objects, it becomes part of daily rituals, adding character and warmth to everyday moments.
The process becomes even more meaningful when an old piece is given a second life. Repairing, recolouring, redesigning, reimagining, and reusing transforms something forgotten into something personal and renewed. Furniture decoration is, for me, a way of combining creativity with care — honouring what already exists while shaping it into something fresh, purposeful, and full of story.
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“Portraits — Creating Memories That Endure”
From time to time, someone commissions a portrait not simply as an artwork, but as a way to preserve a presence — a face, a character, a moment in life meant to last beyond the present. Portraits hold a unique place in art because they are created with the future in mind, becoming part of a family’s visual history. When I work on a portrait, my focus goes beyond likeness. I look for what makes a person recognisable to those who love them — a certain expression, a posture, a quiet strength or warmth that speaks of who they are. These details are often subtle, but they are what transform a portrait into something deeply personal. Commissioned portraits are often created to mark important moments: a milestone, a legacy, or a tribute. Over time, they become witnesses to family stories, passed from one generation to the next, carrying memory, identity, and connection. For me, creating a portrait is a shared process built on trust and attentiveness. It is about honouring the individual and creating a work that will continue to speak long after the sitting has ended — a lasting memory, held in paint.
“Puppets”
Every so often, a commission opens the door to an entirely new way of thinking. One such moment came when a client asked for something unexpected — a lightweight, sculptural object in the form of puppets. Creating puppets became an unusual and exciting way for me to explore my creativity. They sit somewhere between sculpture, design, and storytelling. Unlike painting, where the surface holds the narrative, puppets demand attention to volume, balance, texture, and movement. Even at rest, they suggest gesture, character, and presence. Working on these pieces allowed me to think beyond the wall and the frame, translating artistic ideas into tactile, three-dimensional forms. Each puppet became a small character — playful, expressive, and full of personality. This unexpected direction reminded me how important it is to stay open as an artist. New materials, new formats, and new requests can lead to discoveries that expand both practice and imagination — sometimes in the most surprising ways.
“Sydney Town Hall exhibition 2023”
Ukraine: Secrets of Resilience was an exhibition by True Blue & a Little Bit of Yellow, presented at Sydney Town Hall to mark one year since the start of the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine. I wanted to find a way to help people in Australia understand what war is — not in abstract terms, but through human experience. That idea became Secrets of Resilience. I went through a year of devastating news and personal testimonies, selecting stories that resonated most deeply and spoke about survival, loss, strength, and endurance. From these stories, I created a series of posters combining documentary photographs, written accounts, and artworks — my own and those of fellow artists — alongside real objects carrying personal and symbolic meaning. Each element was chosen carefully, so the exhibition could be read, felt, and experienced rather than simply viewed. Working through so much human pain was emotionally demanding. Revisiting these stories left a lasting mark, but I believe the process was necessary. The exhibition allowed many visitors to imagine themselves in a place of conflict and offered a glimpse into how people continue to live, endure, and remain human under unimaginable circumstances. It was not an easy exhibition — but it was an important one.