Meet The Artists

Mira is a gallerist, artist mentor and an abstract artist whose work mirrors a passion for self-expression, energy, colour and the connection in various forms. Naturally creative and intuitive, she enjoys exploring the emotions and feelings she often picks up around her.

Birgitt, formerly from Victoria, Australia, attended Geelong Fine Art school for 10 years.

Birgitt enjoys challenging herself by using a variety of subjects, techniques for her unique Styles but what never changes are her love of bold and bright colours and, of course, circles.  

Leigh has focused her artistic talents on canvas and glass painting, the latter has become an integral part of her practice, It is known as “Reverse Glass painting on Glass”. As a technique that requires reverse thinking and perspective, it gives her the type of artistic challenge she enjoys.

Sarj was born and raised in Kathmandu, Nepal, then moving to Sydney, Australia.

Sarj is a fully qualified Chef, as well as a Chef Lecturer  working for Toi-Ohomai Institute of Technology.

He draws inspiration from books, movies, musicians, political movements and key times in history.

Impossible to keep a landscape in your head.Try it: All you'll get is pieces—the sunemerging from behind the mountain ridge,smoke coming off the ice on a thawing lake.

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Three grapes, Giacinto, grow upon these vines:The first is pleasure, and is clear as air;the next is sweet amnesia. Drink their wines,                                      yes—but stop there . . .

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A long slope.The sun dipped, and finally sank.No matter how long I walked, I stayed in "the middle of the road."The name torn into pieces.Just keeping on, climbing higher and higherI'd completely forgotten the name.

I think of how I've come to call her sister, droppingthe suffix. We've known each other sinceshe was three and I was six. And I don't knowwhat a sister is if not an other, a fragile mirror, spaceof tenderness. Female, and mortal, and afraid.

  Today I'm happy by myself wandering this creek's paths of sand and crushed shells,  what used to be submerged.

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that the inventory of the bodyis equivalent tothe trauma that comes fromcrop-dust in our eyes . . .

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the river, the rocks banking the river,the rocks loved up on by the river,are sharp and naked and newas new as rocks can be and actualand ugly in their unnature.

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The light unevenly gray beyond the triple-pane:maybe neglected, or itself, self-filtering.Obscuring as it crystals into existence, as itopaques the hoar on the fence & bract to branchof all my trees. Our yard, my debt.

I'll tell you the story. I was walking the outer edge of the outer lands where sporadic signs staked in dunes warned to keep distant from the mammals . . .

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