Meditation On Greens, 2025

Oil and acrylic on linen, framed

137 x 122cm

●SALE PENDING

Sacred Pond, 2025

Oil and acrylic on linen, 137 x 168cm

●SALE PENDING

Awakening, 2025

Oil and acrylic on linen, framed,

137 x 122cm

$8,975 AUD

Of Water And Irises, 2025

Oil and acrylic on linen, framed

137 x 122cm

●SALE PENDING

Water Garden, 2025

Oil and acrylic on linen, framed,

137 x 122cm

$8,975 AUD

As I’m writing this, the May full moon is rising in the sky outside. The fact that there are moons throughout these new paintings feels a fitting coincidence, quite unplanned but these things have a way of coming full circle…   Out where we are in the countryside, well away from the glow of streetlights and city hum, one is always conscious of the moon: where it’s hanging in the sky, waxing and waning through its continuum.  At its fullest, the garden and fields are illuminated in a pale bluish light, so bright that we always comment “it’s like daylight, is that really coming from the moon?”, the wonder of it fresh every time.  Last night I wandered around the garden, quite late, no need for torchlight.  The plants and trees breathed quietly in the gloaming and I took a deep breath and reassured all the plants that rain will be coming soon. 

~

Here in South Australia we are at the desiccated end of the driest 15-month spell since colonial weather records began in 1849.  That’s around the time that our little stone cottage was built, give or take a few years.  The huge old hawthorn in the centre of the garden was planted not long after and I worry for her in this drought.  I worry for all the plants, and the huge old gums, many hundreds of years old, and the tiny birds, and the insects.  Thousands of kilometres away on the other side of this continent, the rain pours down in drenching floods and rivulets in worrying excess, but here we have had only 300mm in nearly a year and a half.  I’ve started dreaming about rain, really dreaming, vivid night-time imagery of water and ponds and droplets of mist. 

~

In the studio, green, calming scenes have flowed out onto the canvases, part dreamscapes, and part prayers for the greener months to follow. When I paint, the imagery always arrives, in the sense that I rarely have a plan beforehand, and after 20 years in the studio, I am learning to simply trust, get out of the way, and let whatever the paintings need to be just flow through.  So I am always a little surprised when I stand back at the end and observe the connections and themes running between the paintings, like messages from my inner self and from Nature. These are silent spaces for stillness, meditation and connection with nature - studies in pink and green and moonlight.

~Morgan, May 2025