In her still life works, there is intent. Gone are the turmoil of oceans, the sultry skies, replaced by the apparent serenity of flowers. But this is about hidden gesture; in these works we are drawn to conclusions - is this a celebration of life, or sorrow and loss? In the ruddy reds and browns and the fathomless greens we see both beauty and decay. We see a disquiet, a tale to be told. The flowers mark a passing, a fleeting moment of colour and joy, abandoned once they’ve served their purpose, wreaths of their own making.