Bundanon: A Homecoming to the Wild Within

The road twisted and turned, each bend a portal deeper into something ancient. The trees whispered of arrivals long before mine, and the land exhaled. A welcome. And then, a lyrebird, its song a collage of the landscape, called me into its story.

Bundanon. A place not just to visit, but to remember.

Bundanon a Symphony of Land and Life

The air is different here. Clean, unburdened. It carried the scent of bush flowers, the hush of river mist, the quiet hum of the world before hurry. My mornings were composed of cicadas singing the sun into the sky, the thump of kangaroos drumming across the land, the soft scurry of wombats tracing invisible maps through the soft grass. The Shoalhaven River, ever-persistent, bubbled its wisdom, inviting me in, whispering, detach, let it be, let flow.

Creation as Breath

Each day unfolded with a rhythm both structured and wild. The land held me in its embrace, and in return, I surrendered to the pulse of my own nature.

A barefoot walk through the bush, feet kissing the earth.
A swim in the river, body remembering the womb.
A conversation with another artist, ideas sparking like flint on stone.
A brush to canvas, colour pouring forth language unspoken.

There was no strain, no resistance, only the ease of being. My art, so often bound by invisible pressures, was suddenly free. Create, create, create, the echo of this place, of my own spirit unchained.

The Magic of In-Between

The moments were many, and yet they blurred into a single sensation: homecoming. To nature, yes but to myself most of all. I was no longer separate from the trees, the creatures, the water. I am this land, and this land is me. Home.

In this space, I could listen. The stories stored in my body surfaced, bubbled, transmuted—released into the world through paint, through presence. The dross was lifted. In its place, clarity. A refinement, an alignment, an unveiling of a self more true.

The Littoral Dance

This land was different from my usual muse the ocean, endless and salt-stung. Here, I moved between earth and river, between what is solid and what carries away. And in that movement, The Littoral Collection was born, a love letter to the spaces in between.

The meeting place, the edge, the threshold.
Where land meets water.
Where one world dissolves into another.
Where I, too, shift, neither fully one thing nor the other, but something new, something whole.

An Ending, A Beginning, A Threshold

Leaving Bundanon was like stepping out of a dream and into a waking world forever altered. It was an ending, yes, but also a becoming. This time, this space.It was the littoral moment in my own journey, the place between what was and what will be.

Bundanon did not give me answers. Instead, it gave me a question—one I will carry with me long after the dust of its roads has settled on my skin:

How can I live in the in-between, always dancing on the edge of creation, always meeting myself anew?

And so, I step forward, not away, but through.

Visit Bundanon to explore more.