A little about orange.

The orange reflects the dichotomy between natural and unnatural that is a major theme of my work. It’s not just orange—it’s a fluorescent orange, reminiscent of flagging tape from forestry or high-visibility safety gear.

On the other hand, it’s the colour of the sun at dusk or the moon during a harvest phase. 

The things we consider unnatural tend to be made by us—manufactured by humans. This distinction becomes a way of separating ourselves from the natural world, when in truth we are part of it. We are products of nature, and the things we make are as natural as the earth we draw our resources from.

I like to use materials that also reflect this theme of contradictory ideas. The plastic I paint on is a very modern material, while the medium of oil paint has a deep history and is, at its core, simply made from vegetable oil.

This piece, Alexander, feels like a moment at the edge. He’s not landing, he’s not arriving—he’s in that brief, committed movement forward between the familiar and the field.
 

MARTIN

Martin is a black-and-white oil painting of a peregrine falcon set against an abstract background.

A falcon, like Martin, came to me in a dream once; he was brave, beautiful and fast. In the dream, we raced together—and won. It didn’t feel symbolic at the time, just real: it was like he was part of me.

That feeling carries into this painting. The falcon is not just observed—it is remembered. Holding a sense of partnership, or companionship, he looks out seeking connection and understanding. Naming him Martin gives him a presence beyond the canvas, something familiar and specific rather than distant or mythic.

CHARLES

Charles sits on the threshold between the known and the unknown. The orb represents a kind of portal for me—a gateway into something secretive—while he stands as a guardian to or from another world.

I’m deeply influenced by the philosophy of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell, particularly the idea of the Hero’s Journey. My work explores, in a visual way, those threshold moments between choices that we all encounter. The monomyth doesn’t just exist in grand narratives—it can unfold in the smallest tasks. Even something like getting groceries can hold the call to action, the crossing into another world, the trials, and the return with something to offer.

I see these works as small guardians of those moments of change—the quiet thresholds that build momentum in our lives.

MURRAY

This painting centers on a pigeon—an everyday presence, often overlooked, yet deeply embedded in the rhythms of urban life. By isolating and elevating it, the work asks what we choose to see as worthy of attention, and what we dismiss as ordinary.

Set within an abstract field, the pigeon becomes something more than incidental. It takes on the role of a quiet guardian, positioned at a threshold between the familiar and the unseen. In this way, even the most common encounter holds the potential for significance - a small crossing, a subtle shift in perception.

Like the other works in the series, it reflects an interest in the collapse between natural and unnatural, meaningful and mundane. The pigeon remains both itself and something more: a marker of presence, and a reminder that the extraordinary is often already here.
 

“Every time I make a painting, I’m trying to make the best painting I’ve ever made. Which can be very vulnerable and revealing.  There’s no place to hide in my work. So it becomes an exploration and record of moments.”
— Sarah Hillock

Series Statement
This body of work explores the threshold between worlds—moments of transition where something shifts, often quietly, from one state into another. Figures like Martin and Charles emerge as guardians within these spaces, holding a presence that feels both grounded and otherworldly. Orbs, abstract fields, and atmospheric forms act as portals or points of entry, suggesting something just beyond reach—an invitation into the unknown.

Underlying this is an interest in the philosophy of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell, particularly the idea of the Hero’s Journey. I see this mythic structure not as something reserved for epic narratives, but as a pattern embedded in everyday life. Even the most ordinary actions—errands, conversations, small decisions—can hold the same arc: a call, a crossing, a challenge, and a return. These works reflect those subtle thresholds, where choice and change begin to take shape.

A parallel thread in the work is the tension between what we consider natural and unnatural. The things we often label as unnatural are, in fact, made by us—products of human intention and construction. This distinction becomes a way of separating ourselves from the natural world, when in truth we are inseparable from it. We are part of nature, and what we create emerges from the same systems and materials as the earth itself.

This idea extends into the materials I use. The plastic surfaces I paint on are distinctly contemporary, while oil paint carries a long history and is, at its core, made from vegetable oil. Together, they hold a contradiction that mirrors the themes in the work—ancient and modern, organic and synthetic, real and symbolic. Within these layered tensions, the paintings become quiet markers of transformation: small guardians of the moments that shape our movement through the world

The Rabbit as a Study in Belonging
Judy is a large-scale painting—six by five feet—centered on a rabbit, an animal often associated with anxiety and fragility. Labeled as quiet and subtle, the work deliberately contrasts that perception through scale, giving the rabbit a presence that is anything but small.

Rendered in a grounded palette of deep greens and purples, reminiscent of a soft forest floor, the painting holds a calm, steady atmosphere. Within it, the rabbit becomes something more than timid—it takes on a protective quality, a quiet strength that expands to fill the space.

Named after Judy Garland, the work plays with the idea of voice and amplification—what it means to give something perceived as fragile a larger emotional resonance. Like the other figures in the series, Judy exists at a threshold, where vulnerability and power are not opposites but part of the same field

The Reclusive Moose
Diana is a painting of a moose, a creature that moves quietly and deliberately, often choosing solitude over the safety of the herd. Her presence is self-contained—grounded, observant, and at ease within her own space.

Named for Diana, (the goddess of the hunt) the work draws on associations of independence, instinct, and attunement to the natural world. Rather than dominance, her strength is expressed through stillness and autonomy—a quiet authority that doesn’t require an audience.

Within the broader themes of the series, Diana holds the threshold between solitude and connection, presence and withdrawal. She becomes a kind of guardian of that inward space, where choosing oneself is not isolation, but a form of clarity.