BLUE DON’T HIDE, a story of being true to yourself
June 7, 2025The Power of Art
The Power of Art
Originally, this blog post was titled “Art and Mental Health.” But I’ve come to believe there’s no such division — there is only health. Not “mental” health and “physical” health. Just health. So I renamed it: The Power of Art.
The power of art to lift you from dark places.
The power of art to offer a lungful of fresh oxygen.
The power of art to give you something solid to lean on.
The power of art to turn a fake smile into a real one.
The power of art to offer the feeling of being understood.
The power of art.
Have you ever felt like you were in such a deep pit that there was no way out?
Have you ever longed for someone — or something — that truly got you?
Have you ever needed more than words to process what you were feeling?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, please keep reading.
If you were to Google the phrase “art and mental health”, you’d get something like this ever-so-insightful AI-generated response:
(Please do detect the sarcasm in my voice.)
“Art can positively impact mental health by providing a creative outlet for emotional expression, reducing stress and anxiety, and enhancing self-awareness. Engaging in art, whether creating it or appreciating it, can help individuals process emotions, build coping mechanisms, and improve overall well-being.”
Yes — technically true. But if you’ve ever really leaned on art, you know it’s more than a feel-good coping mechanism. I believe we should all be immersed in art. Creating it. Breathing it. Observing it. Living it — in whatever form resonates most.
For me, it’s painting. And so, I write this from a painter’s perspective.
The Power of Art in Difficult Times
Twelve years ago, I found myself lying helpless, unsure if I would ever stand upright again. In those still, uncertain days, I dreamed of painting.
Outside my window, magpies sang and cried. Their voices gave birth to Wail of a Magpie #1 — not yet on canvas, but in my mind.
That imagined painting gave me something solid to hold onto. It gave me strength to begin healing. In those difficult days, painting — and my family — pulled me through.
Wail of a Magpie #1 eventually led to #2, and then #3. As time passed, I continued translating my journey into this evolving visual story. I never meant for it to become a series — it was just part of my diary. A chapter in the book of recovery. A way to process. A wellspring of strength.
[Read the Wail of a Magpie story here.]
Sharing the Power of Art
The first time I truly realised the impact of sharing art was during my debut solo exhibition in Balmain, Sydney.
It was a quiet moment — the kind where you don’t expect anything big to happen. A woman walked in. I greeted her. She said hello. In my overly enthusiastic way, I probably said too much, then left her to wander the space.
Minutes passed — maybe longer. Eventually, I peeked in and saw her standing in front of one of the paintings, tears in her eyes.
“This painting understands me,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
She didn’t want to talk further. I didn’t want to pry. She wasn’t in a position to buy the painting. I wasn’t there to force a sale. I simply offered a hug — as I do — and she left. We’ve never met again.
But that moment changed something in me.
It hit me deeply (something that my husband had been telling me, but I would not believe): my art had a voice. And it needed to be shared. Whether or not people could afford to buy it, that didn’t matter. I wasn’t an IKEA poster to decorate living rooms. I wasn’t a Marimekko print. I wasn’t fake.
I was — I am — the real deal.
And I knew I had to keep painting. And sharing.
One More Thing I Want to Say:
Keep Going
If you’re in a dark place right now — don’t give up.
If you’ve forgotten what joy feels like — don’t give up.
If you're searching for something solid to lean on — don’t give up.
Art may not solve everything, but it can offer a moment of stillness. A breath. A connection. A light in the darkness. And sometimes, that’s enough to take the next step.
I’m not here to tell you everything will be easy. But I am here to say: it’s worth continuing. Your story isn’t finished. My story isn’t finished.
Keep creating. Keep feeling. Keep paying it forward.
And if my work speaks to something in you — I’m grateful. I hope you’ll stick with me as this journey unfolds. There’s more to come.
You're not alone.
I wonder where is the point
when there is no turning back
and the storm is inevitable.
CONFUSED
2014
acrylic on recycled canvas on board
approx size 90cm x 60cm
**this is the painting discussed above.