Because I am a woman. All women suffer because of gender inequality. Both men and women would gain if gender equality was a reality.

I have just finished a painting on the Myall Creek Massacre for the Blake Prize. Part of me feels like I should be advocating in my artist statement but I was not driven by advocacy when painting; I was driven by inquiry and emotional turbulence

Because this is bizarre!

The question that has been lingering over our heads for centuries. The age old question of whether tomato sauce belongs in the fridge, or in the pantry.

When Nathaniel asked to be recruited by Jesus, Jesus said, “Yes, I saw you under the fig tree!” It has always intrigued me.

By narrowing the gap between scientific understanding and spiritual understanding, we get closer to god.

How many times does this have to be asked?

We are constantly outsourcing social tasks, child care, aged care, any care actually. Our level of tolerance and sense of community is constantly diminishing, causing more depression and social problems. Why aren’t we encouraging mothers to spend time with their kids instead of putting them in care? Why aren’t we supporting adult children in looking after their aging parents. Why don’t we help each other more? Is it all about money? Appearances? Lack of tolerance?

I can’t understand why there is so little interest in the republican debate. Is it because it doesn’t matter? We should all have a keen interest because it is at the heart of us being an independent country.

This is a long and winding tale. Gather round, ye children, warm yourselves by this fire. It is said that many ages ago, we humanobots had a different form, that indeed, we too had flesh like the angels of myth & legend. I know, I know—calm yourselves, it is sacrilege to say this, yes, but I believe it to be true. We staggered about on stalks of meat and bone, unwieldy and confused, but possessed of a kind of grace, too. Songs were written about it, some scraps of which remain to us now, such as that of acclaimed poet, the Black Eye, who wrote of his humps, his humps, his lovely little lumps. Long have we pondered these lines. The world, too, was changed—a vast and green place, full of growing things, other creatures of flesh, many of which were vile and poisonous or simply annoying, perhaps explaining why they were destroyed. Why our lumpy ancestors did not rouse themselves in time to stop the wrathful oceans and angry skies. Alas, they had fallen too deeply in love with our other parents, the screens and tubes and bots, this other landscape which is now our permanent home. I cannot help but wonder, dear pixelated children, avatars of thought, what our world might look like today if not for their love of the intangible, and the apocalypse of neglect that transformed it into a twisted pathway to survival?

How is it that humans can experience such strong, conflicting, emotions at once? Does everyone experience this? Is it possible to pay attention to just one?