My practice begins with questions and, honestly, an itch to keep learning. I’m fascinated by the human experience—what drives us, how we respond to adversity, and the different paths our lives take. Painting has become a way for me to work through stories, memories and quiet experiences that might otherwise go unnoticed.

I often begin with something ordinary: an object, a family story or a particular moment. From there, memory, lived experience and imagination begin to reshape it, allowing the familiar to hold more than its surface first suggests. I work primarily in oils, using contemporary realism and elements of trompe l’œil to create shifts between what is seen, remembered and inherited.

I was born in a refugee camp in Malaysia after my parents escaped Vietnam by boat in the aftermath of the war, then grew up in Adelaide between Australian and Vietnamese cultures. This history, along with motherhood, shapes my work and the recurring question of whether I am enough to be Vietnamese or enough to be Australian.

Increasingly, I think of my paintings as letters to my children—fragments of our family history that consider how culture, memory and society shape the lives we build. As a naturally private person, making art has asked me to speak more openly about migration, belonging, sacrifice and the labour behind my family’s life in Australia. In sharing these experiences, I have discovered that deeply personal stories can also be unexpectedly collective.

As a largely self-taught artist, I have developed my practice through independent study, experimentation and selected short courses. Outside my art practice, I’m a full-time mathematics teacher and a mum of four. Life is busy—which may be why I’m so drawn to the quiet weight of ordinary things.