1990 to 1999 – The Crazy Years
The 1990s were a whirlwind, a time of reinvention, risk, and rediscovery.
Back then, we were deep in the fashion industry, producing three full clothing ranges a year. The hours were long, the pressure was relentless, and the joy was slowly draining away. We were burning out, and we knew something had to change.
So, we made a bold decision to shift direction entirely. Still passionate about creating beautiful, high-quality clothing, we turned our focus to timeless pieces that would sell year-round in high-end tourist shops and resorts. This fresh approach led us to start our own screen print factory and launch two new labels: Ochre Design Australia and Ochre Kids.
Learning the ins and outs of screen printing was no small feat. It was a steep learning curve, but we threw ourselves into it with energy and optimism. We were excited. It felt new and full of possibility.
One lazy Sunday, we were driving through the Perth Hills when we spotted a little "For Sale" sign at the top of a long gravel driveway. Something, a feeling, a pull, urged us to turn in. At the end of the drive, we discovered a magical, overgrown two-acre garden surrounding a 100-year-old weatherboard cottage in desperate need of love.
By the end of that year, we’d sold our beloved Californian bungalow in North Perth and embraced our tree change in Mundaring.
It wasn’t all roses. Possums had made a home in the cottage roof, and keeping warm during winter was a whole new challenge. But Woodlane Cottage had charm and promise. Once part of an old orchard, the property still had fruit trees scattered around. And the large, rundown shed out the back? We painted it red and christened it the Red Shed Studio, my new creative space.
We spent the next few years renovating the cottage, shaping the garden, and slowly winding down the clothing business. After years of 12-hour days, seven days a week, we were ready to let go of the stress, the staffing, and the constant hustle.
That shift gave me something I had been yearning for: space and time to reconnect with my art.
While we worked on transforming the Red Shed, I set up a temporary studio in an old railway carriage on the property. For six months, I stripped everything back to basics — just charcoal and cartridge paper — as I worked to rebuild my rusty drawing skills.
Then came a turning point. I took a pastel workshop with a local artist and instantly fell in love, not with delicate blending and soft hues, but with bold colour and unapologetic strokes. No softness for me. I began to develop a style that felt truly mine.
In 1999, I held my first solo exhibition at the Mundaring Arts Centre, titled A Room of My Own. The opening night was unforgettable, a wonderful mix of nerves, pride, warm compliments, and encouraging sales.
Yes, most of those sales were from generous family and friends (thank you, always), but I had no idea then how tough and at times heartbreaking the road ahead as a full-time artist would be.
But that’s a story for another time.