Behind the Scenes of Inner Archives
A solo exhibition, a healing journey, and the creative transformation I didn’t expect
The past three years have been one of those “blessing in disguise” chapters—the kind that completely unravel you, only to weave you back together in a way that’s more aligned, more honest, and somehow… more you.
In 2022, I chose the word spaciousness as my guiding intention for the year. And wow—did the Universe deliver. 😅 We packed up our life in Perth and moved temporarily to Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory for my husband’s dream project.
I knew the move would be a shift, but I didn’t realise just how much would fall away. The business opportunities I had worked so hard to build, the soul friendships I cherished, the vibrant, creative community that fuelled me—they all dissolved in one clean sweep.
And there I was, in a light-filled studio, surrounded by lush plants and infinite potential… face to face with creative resistance.
If you’ve danced with resistance, you know it’s not just about lack of inspiration. It’s the raw stuff. The shame of wanting to create in a world that glorifies productivity. The fear of not being “enough.” The buried grief that art has a sneaky way of surfacing.
But here’s the truth I came to understand:
Creating is a healing act.
It demands surrender. It excavates pain to make space for something wiser, deeper, more whole.
I resisted. I cried. I softened. I committed.
And eventually, Inner Archives was born.
A diverse body of work in textiles and watercolour, Inner Archives became more than an exhibition—it was a love letter to every past version of me who didn’t yet know how to speak her truth, stand in her power, or create without apology.
This exhibition was created for no one but me.
I didn’t need praise or validation or even acknowledgement. I needed to witness myself. I needed to sit with the stories inside, sort through the mess, shred the ones I’d outgrown, and lovingly file away the parts of me I wanted to keep.
And in doing so, I made peace.
Inner Archives was my creative closure ritual—my way of saying goodbye to a chapter, a place, and a former self. But I know these pieces will speak to others too. They carry the universal threads of grief, growth, and coming home to oneself.
This exhibition is the foundation for what’s next.
And I’m finally ready for it.
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