Weathering the Storm: A Cyclone, A Book, and the Art of Remembrance

The storm arrived in a slow crescendo, the kind that humbles you, that reminds you of nature’s quiet power. When the northern east coast of Australia was hit by the cyclone, my world was stripped down to essentials—no power, no internet, no distractions. Just the flickering glow of a torch, the sound of rain against my window, and a book that transported me back to another time, another city.

For 48 hours, I lived simply—meals reduced to what could be eaten cold, air thick with humidity, no hum of an air conditioner to break the stillness. And in this quiet, I turned to Just Kids by Patti Smith, letting her words pull me into the restless energy of 1960s New York. As I read about her early days—her hunger for creation, her raw pursuit of art—I found myself back in my own past, standing on the streets of Sydney at 17, wide-eyed and untethered, finding my own way through galleries and art school corridors. I thought of my dying mother, of home, of the safety I had left behind to explore myself and my work, long before I even knew what kind of artist I wanted to be.

There was something poetic about it—sitting in the dark, letting the storm rage outside while I revisited the storm of youth, of ambition, of discovery. No screens, no artificial light, just words and memory, reminding me why I create. The cyclone passed, as they always do, but it left behind a stillness I didn’t know I needed. A pause. A reflection. A return to the core of it all.