
Two women engaged in conversation at an art gallery with paintings of green bottles on display.

People viewing artwork in a gallery, featuring paintings of a green bottle and glass.

Person viewing painting of a green bottle in a gallery

Person holding a label next to a painting of a green bottle on a white background in an art gallery.

Person holding a baby while looking at a painting of a green bottle on a wall in an art gallery.
Exhibition now on
Bottled Up is a collection of work, in acrylics and oils, featuring a single green glass carafe. It’s a homage to my dad, who was a bottled-up kind of guy, and it’s also a comment on how we bottle things up as a culture.
Seemingly a trivial object, this carafe sat in the fridge door of my childhood home holding my dad's wine. It's now in my fridge, filled with water. Dad didn't reveal much of his inner life to me or anyone else. When conversation at the dinner table went below the surface, he’d go off and do the dishes. He was Catholic, but couldn’t explain his belief except to say that he was raised that way; he loved the Balmain Tigers; he was athletic—he had a stint playing AFL, windsurfed, golfed, played water polo, and regularly swam in the harbour baths; we reckoned he was lucky—often winning meat trays at the raffle; he was a great story teller; and was kind to animals. He also bottled up emotions and kept his thoughts to himself. He only became more direct in the evenings when he'd had a few glasses of wine and his defences relaxed. As my own kids got older, I realised the hard truth—that we can never truly know the entirety of someone, even those closest to us. In spite of that, we frequently see them and ourselves in the trivial everyday objects they leave behind when they’ve gone.
On show now until February 16 at Gallery Unbound, 497 High st, Northcote