This painting began in 2003. It was damaged by one of my grandbabies and then repaired many years later. I was not commissioned to create it, nor was it intended for any specific purpose. It was simply a subject that I felt compelled to paint.

In 1996 – I recall seeing a news report about nuclear testing conducted in Pacific Ocean atolls. The report stayed with me and sparked questions about the future of marine life. How would these events affect the creatures of the ocean? Would they survive? Could they be harmed or changed by human actions? It was the first time I consciously began to think about environmental responsibility and the impact that we, as humans must learn to live in greater harmony with the natural world.

I often wondered why my thoughts were reaching so far beyond my immediate circumstances. At the time, I was a young mother caring for other children & nursing a baby, with many day-to-day responsibilities demanding my attention. Despite this, my awareness seemed drawn to larger questions about the world and our connection to it

This way of thinking is not new within Aboriginal culture. As an Aboriginal woman from the inland river country of Central West New South Wales, I was raised with the understanding that we have obligations to care for Country. My people are freshwater people; whales are not part of my traditional totemic system, and I had never seen one in person. Yet I found myself captivated by their strength, intelligence, and deep sense of community.

I began painting humpback whales because of their majesty presence. They sing, migrate across vast distances, live within communities, nurture their young, and display remarkable intelligence. In many ways, their social bonds and care for their offspring mirror our own human experiences. The more I learned about them, the stronger my connection to the subject became. I was fascinated by them.

As an emerging artist, I was still developing my skills and, truthfully, I was not very good at painting whales at first. However, I remained committed to the subject and continued to return to it in my work. During an exhibition featuring my small painting of a humpback whale, an Elder quietly pulled me aside and said, “When you start painting whales, it can be a sign that you are beginning to think more broadly about communities.”
I had never heard this before and replied, “No, I didn’t know that.”

I knew the Elder came from Saltwater Country, and I accepted his words with respect. Looking back now, I realise there was truth in that observation. What began as an attraction to the beauty and grandeur of whales became a journey of understanding—about community, responsibility, interconnectedness, and the ways our lives are woven together across land, water, and generations.

This painting represents not only the humpback whale itself, but also my own journey of growth as an artist, a mother, an Aboriginal woman, and a person learning to see beyond her immediate world toward a wider sense of care for all living things.