A creative fortnight at Bundanon

Bundanon sits on the traditional land of the Dharawal and Dhurga language groups, where the Shoalhaven River carves its way between forested ridges and ancient sandstone. I was humbled to participate in a smoking ceremony followed by a cultural walk led by First Nations custodians, whose knowledge of cultural burns and regenerating Country revealed centuries of care and knowledge of this land. This connection to the traditional custodians of the site grounded my time there in profound gratitude.

The private artist studios and accommodation sit perched on a hill with sweeping views of native bushland and escarpments, the 1866 Boyd family homestead, and paddocks below. Days found a rhythm: tea on the balcony watching kangaroos with joeys graze comfortably close in early light, long studio hours into evening, then golden sunset as the odd wombat roamed outside. I shared meals and walks with other resident artists, researchers and musicians; our conversations and witnessing their processes alongside mine enriched the experience.

My first inquiry explored how landscape interacts with the human nervous system. On daily walks through bush, past massive rock formations layered with lichen, spring flowers in the undergrowth, mycelium hidden among trees, I became fascinated by the panoramic views – that visual breadth allowing the internal system to settle and regulate. To translate this visceral sense of calm into visual form, I carried a small roll of salvaged photo paper and made quick watercolour impressions as I moved around the property. These quick studies, capturing the rhythmic horizon lines and textural depth, became physical records of my nervous system settling into the environment.

Alongside the landscape studies, exploring a new kind of sculptural practice became a way for me to express renewal and transformation. I spent days layering forms and testing materials, taking inspiration from the organic growth discovered on my walks – mycelium, lichen and flowers. I’m now exploring how to pair these fragile, organic forms with other textural materials. The resulting tension between organic vulnerability and static permanence mirrors broader questions about identity, protection and the necessity of staying open to change.

Two weeks at Bundanon proved vital and transformative. Following a single line of thought from dawn until dusk, without being fragmented by the everyday duties of home life, clarified what my practice requires: proximity to landscape, dedicated space and uninterrupted time. Winning the Meroogal Women’s Art Prize altered how I view my trajectory as an artist, while Bundanon deepened my trust in experimental process itself, reminding me the work is as much about how we inhabit land as it is about what we create within it.