HELLO, I'm Kay.
It took me a while to realise that the artist is part of the story too.
For someone who creates paintings filled with stories, I’ve always been rather good at hiding behind the work.
I grew up in Kent, England and now live and paint on Tasmania’s beautiful east coast. My creative life has taken a few twists and turns along the way, but painting eventually became the thing I simply couldn’t imagine not doing.
So, if you’ve found your way here because you’d like to know a little more about the person holding the paintbrush — hello, and welcome.
The heart behind the art
Beauty catches my eye. Story keeps me there.
I’ve always been fascinated by people and the lives that sit quietly beneath the surface.
The women who appear in my paintings are rarely just portraits. I imagine that they have lived. They’ve loved, lost, dreamed, changed direction, gathered memories and found strength they perhaps didn’t know they had. There is vulnerability in them, but there is strength too.
Nature finds its way into almost everything I create. Flowers, birds, gardens, the sea and, more recently, horses have all become part of my visual language. I’m fascinated by the way something as delicate as a flower can also be incredibly resilient.
Perhaps that is why I return to them again and again.
I want my paintings to be beautiful, but I also want there to be something more to discover.
Stories in the Layers
Look closely. There’s usually more than first meets the eye.
My paintings have become increasingly layered, combining paint with collage, pattern, fragments of handwriting and touches of gold.
Hidden amongst them you might find a bird, butterfly, flower, old letter or tiny creature. Some hold meaning or memory; others are there simply because they delight me.
I love the thought that a painting can keep revealing itself over time — rather like the people whose stories inspire them.
How I found my way here.
Beauty catches my eye. Story keeps me there.
Creativity has always been part of my life.
Before painting became such an important part of it, I spent many years working as a graphic and web designer. Looking back, I can see how much that shaped the artist I eventually became — my love of composition, colour, typography, pattern and visual storytelling all began there.
But painting gave me something different.
There is an unpredictability to it that I love. A painting can begin with a carefully considered idea and then take me somewhere completely unexpected.
My work has continued to evolve as I’ve become braver with colour, texture and materials. I’m less interested now in making everything perfect and much more interested in making something that feels alive.
And I suspect I’ll always be learning.
That’s part of the joy of it.
A little more about me.
The little things that make up the big picture
From Kent to Tasmania
A long way from home, but this wild, beautiful island has my heart.
Maxamalist at heart
I love colour, pattern and pretty things. More is more.
Peonies Always
My favourite flower. I never tire of painting them.
Horses have my heart
Grace, Strength and soul. They inspire me every single day.
My very glamorous garage studio
Unmade, untidy and full of beautiful chaos. My favourite place.
And then there's Digby
My loyal sidekick and chief morale officer. Always by my side.
My little corner of Tasmania.
This is where the magic happens
Most days you’ll find me in my studio with something on the easel, music playing and far too many brushes scattered around.
Some paintings arrive easily. Others fight me every step of the way. Some change completely from the idea I began with. But there is still something rather magical about starting with a blank surface and slowly watching another world emerge.
Painting can be solitary, which makes the connection that happens afterwards even more meaningful. When someone stops in front of one of my paintings and feels something — or tells me that a particular piece reminds them of themselves, someone they love, or a chapter in their own life — the circle somehow feels complete. And when a painting finds its person and leaves my studio for its new home, I still get a little thrill.
