This is a picture of my work space at home. It’s nothing like I used to have in Newcastle, in Newcastle I had a studio with high ceilings and big windows which opened to the dock and the industrial area. Huge conveyor belts loaded ships with coal it was so dramatic, huge cold dark shapes surrounded by glistening water and palm trees. On the other side of the building was Hunter Street, there was always something happening on Hunter Street. People yelling and stumbling drunk, junkies rushing around like it was their last day on Earth amongst the business men and women looking uncomfortably tight in their ironed black clothes. Never a dull moment on this street. I lived on Hunter Street in the old Bank of New South Wales, it was a beautiful Art Deco style building with spiral staircases and wooden floors. I lived on the second floor with my boyfriend and our dog and we heard everything that went on below, fights, songs, late night counselling and drunken politics. It was funny and always interesting but after 9 months we needed to catch up on our sleep. We moved out of the Bank and eventually out of Newcastle altogether, now I’m sitting at a desk deep in the bush in a tiny house we call The Chapel. I can hear only bush noise, bees, birds, so many birds, wind through trees and the odd crash from a branch breaking and falling to the ground. I love it here and I’m probably happier than I’ve ever been, but I can’t tell you which place I’d rather be. I miss the Art School, that beautiful building filled with those people who taught me so much, I miss the Harbour that I must have stared at for a thousand hours and drawn a thousand times, the sound of trains and ship horns as they come and go. And as I sit here in this small and cluttered space with birds singing, my mind drifts back and I want to dance.