Empathy

This painting was born from a place of deep emotional reckoning — a cathartic response after attending the Deep Listening Festival, where I had the honour of witnessing Aboriginal women share raw, personal stories of grief and survival from the legacy of the Stolen Generations.

I couldn’t paint anything else until this piece was completed. It demanded my full attention — not just technically, but spiritually. It had to pass the question I ask of all my works: soul or no soul? The answer, though intangible, had to resonate from within.

The central formation rises like Uluru or a sacred heart — layered in reds, ochres and burnished earth tones. It holds the pain of cracked histories and cultural dislocation. The sgraffito marks, cracks, fissures, and elemental beings embedded within the strata tell hidden stories, whispering to those who choose to listen.

On the left, small bowed figures are etched in green-blue hues — humble, quiet, grieving. Above them, a collective of ancestral spirits gather in violet shadows beneath a sky of cobalt blue, under the guiding light of the moon. The word “EMPATHY” emerges boldly in white — not as a title, but a call, a vibration, an invocation.

The work holds grief and reverence in equal measure. It is a landscape of soul, one that invites the viewer to feel rather than analyse. To lean in. To listen deeply.

This piece is not easily explained — nor should it be. It is a portal. A painting that speaks across time. And it asked everything of me.