There’s a lot more behind this piece than what can be seen on the wall.
I chose to paint weavers because they reminded me of growing up in a loud, vibrant community — the kind of place where there was always something happening. Someone shouting for their mom, a neighbour selling something from the side of the road, an uncle fixing a car, an aunty hanging out washing, or kids running and playing in the street.
There was always movement. Always noise. Always someone busy with something.
It reminded me of standing underneath a tree filled with weavers. If you’ve ever watched a colony of weavers, you’ll know exactly what I mean. They’re constantly building, calling, flying in and out, hanging upside down, tearing things apart and starting again. The tree is alive with activity.
That was the feeling I wanted to capture in Woodstock.
The weavers became a reflection of the community — vibrant, resilient, resourceful and full of life. Every bird busy building its own little world, while contributing to this much bigger, constantly moving ecosystem around it.
But this wall also became something much more personal than I expected.
I can’t put into words what this piece meant to me, or what I had to endure to complete it. The project tested my resilience in ways few walls ever have. There were moments when simply finishing it felt like an achievement in itself.
I’m incredibly grateful to Marti Lund and my brother Matthew, who pushed through with me to get the mural completed before I left for Sweden. Without them, my wife Jacqueline, and the wider Gympie Street community, I genuinely don’t think I would have been able to bring it across the finish line.
Looking back, I couldn’t have asked for a more fitting way to close out 2019. Earlier that year, Jacqueline and I had tied the knot, and this mural became the final chapter of an incredibly significant year in my life.
A huge thank you to Woodstock Quarter for trusting me with this wall and giving me the opportunity to create something that was not only inspired by the community, but deeply connected to my own experience of one.
For me, these aren't just weavers in a tree.
They're a memory of home.
