About me

Born in 1973 in Warsaw, I am a single mum of two beautiful girls, one of whom is disabled. My beginnings in art found their roots in my childhood, where we lived for a time on the Praga side of Warsaw. Some of my earliest childhood memories were of being surrounded by the mystery of the Catholic Church and its religious artifacts which were a catalyst for my sense of personal connection to the Divine. Stories of our cultural legends and symbols, merged in my imagination with whimsical Polish fairy tales, and a love of nature. I hours in my own mind, where I created entire worlds with their own political, religious and social structures.

Growing up, I had an eye for sketching with graphite pencil, but have since aimed to develop my own unique style using acrylics and watercolour pencils; choosing to focus on meaning and storytelling, as opposed to realism. Each painting is treated as an act of devotion; each brushstroke an incantation imbuing the medium with the principle of love and healing.

The Girl from Praga

7 Jun 2026 15:00

The formative years in Communist Poland

You can take the girl out of Warsaw, but you can't take Warsaw out of the girl. I have now spent a larger portion of my life living in Australia, but who I am; the person I became, began this journey in Warsaw, and this part of me can never be removed from the fabric of my soul. Neither can my love of nature and my connection to God. A connection that transcends religious dogma and expectations, and one that is seen in the world around me; from the leaf that falls gently to the ground, to music and its expression of the soul.

I have strong memories of my childhood in Poland, much to the surprise of many, given my young age. Perhaps it was my artistic mind, or perhaps it was the trauma of that time that imprinted itself upon every fibre of my being. A trauma, that compared to others, pales in significance, but which helped to shape the woman I am now. For better or for worse.

Each city has its own particular energy, it's own rhythm, its own heart. Warsaw was a mix of grey communist style blocks and half demolished post war buildings, awaiting to be reborn and interspersed with the sounds of barking dogs, of vendors selling their wares, or of rugs being beaten free of dust by somebody's mother in the courtyard. With that backdrop, there was also an underlying fear of the Communist system that seemed to pervade every aspect of our lives, and the vivid memories of battles fought during WWII. Memories which were encouraged through movies, songs and the stories told by our grandparents. Stories which galvanised our national pride around the common goal of hating the enemy. Our grandparents had lived it, our parents built the Communist utopia that followed, and we were the generation that grew up with both their battles still raging in our blood, while watching them try to hold their own shattered lives together, and seeing their dreams turn to dust.