From Skin to Steel: Inside the Making of My First Exhibition

From Garage to Gallery

They say every great idea starts in a garage. Mine did too.

In the final weeks before my first exhibition, my garage became a factory, studio and warehouse all in one. Every square metre was occupied. Sculptures were wrapped in layers of shrink film. Catalogues were stacked in boxes. Packaging was laid out across benches. The concrete floor was covered in steel offcuts.

It was chaos. The particular kind of chaos that only happens right before everything changes.

But the seed of Skin to Steel was planted much earlier, four years ago, when I held a simple laser cut bookmark in my hand and saw an entire future.

The Spark

The first turning point was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

It was the bookmark that accompanied my second book Renascence (2001). When I held it up, I saw the white wall behind it and, in a split second, I saw it large. I saw it as a panel, floating off the wall. I saw light around it. I saw scale, form, shadow, and structure.

Everything hit me at once. I saw it completely for what it was and what it could become.

From that moment, I could not unsee it. That tiny object became the blueprint for an entirely new world. I started designing, learning, and investing every spare moment and dollar into turning that vision into reality.

I did not see VANTA as “some art.” I saw it as an ecosystem. A living, breathing design house that would one day span fine art, architectural metalwork, homewares and collaborations. I had to build, unbuild, experiment and strip back to find what it authentically was always meant to be.

Closing One Door, Walking Through Another

In March, I handed over the keys to my tattoo studio after more than a decade as a professional tattoo artist. That single moment closed an entire era; years of translating human stories into skin, building precision one line at a time.

On that very same day, I walked straight into an ARC Agency event in Melbourne. Not as an exhibitor, as a guest. I wanted to immerse myself in the world I was stepping into, the world of design, fabrication, and architecture.

The first thing I saw at the entrance stopped me in my tracks: a peacock sculpture framed in a black archway. I had drawn that exact bird, in that exact pose, weeks earlier. It was the most unmistakable sign of alignment I’d ever experienced - the universe pressing confirmation directly into my hands.

Inside, the first exhibitor I approached was Anna from West End Art Space. I introduced myself, handed her a copy of my Skin to Steel book, and told her what I was building. We spoke about architecture, art, and the possibility of something greater.

A week later, I emailed her and made the decision I had been circling for years; it was time to show my work to the world.

The same day I closed the door on tattooing, a gallery opened.

Learning by Doing

I have no formal tertiary education in fine art, architecture, engineering or business. My training is life, my apprenticeship was the tattoo studio, and my language has always been drawing.

Traditional classrooms have never been how I learn. My brain does not work in straight lines. I learn by immersion, repetition and necessity.

Over the last four years, I have learnt everything by doing:

How to translate a sketch into a vector file.
How to work with laser cutting, folding, welding and powder coating.
How to build catalogues and price structures.
How to organise freight and communicate with fabricators.
How to pitch a vision, speak on a microphone, and stand in what I have built.

I built VANTA the only way I know how: step by step, failing forward, without a formal blueprint, until the steel on the wall finally matched the vision in my head.

VANTA as an Ecosystem

From the start, I knew VANTA was not just a collection of artworks. It is an ecosystem.

Every arm of VANTA is an extension of one central idea:

The pursuit of permanence through design.

Panels, sculptures and limited fine art editions that translate drawing into steel.
Architectural metalwork and structural statement pieces that live in homes, hospitality and public spaces.
Homewares, furniture and functional objects that bring that same philosophy into daily life.
Collaborations working with other masters of their craft to merge art, industry and experience.

Whether it is a large scale sculpture or a small domestic object, the intention is the same: to make visible what I believe about permanence, storytelling and structure.

Artistic Lineage

My visual language did not appear out of nowhere.

It is an evolution of everything that has ever moved me.

The curves, linework, and ornamental flow of Art Nouveau.

The geometry, symmetry, and architectural clarity of Art Deco.

The textures, flora, fauna, and light of Australiana.

And the composition logic of tattooing — how form flows with the body and tells a story over time.

Skin to Steel sits at the intersection of those influences. It is ornamental yet structural, soft yet engineered. A balance between emotion and precision.

In a world defined by speed and disposability, I’m drawn to revival; to craft, to care, to the permanence of making something that outlives us.

I want my work to be installed, touched, lived with, and passed down.

But this is not nostalgia. It’s evolution.

My process moves between mediums. From pencil to tablet, from digital design to laser cutting, from physical form to technological integration.

I am as interested in where art is going as I am in where it came from.

Each piece bridges those worlds; analogue discipline meeting digital innovation, human touch meeting machine precision.

Why Steel?

Steel is the backbone of VANTA.

I use it because it embodies the things I care about:

Permanence – it can last for generations if cared for.
Duality – it can be heavy and structural or cut into incredibly delicate forms.
Reflection – it holds light and shadow in a way that feels alive.

In an age where most objects are designed to fail and be replaced, steel lets me build work that can endure. Where possible, I favour quality over volume and design for longevity rather than planned obsolescence. Beauty that is built to last feels like an act of resistance.

From Bookmark to Floor Plan

By May, the gallery was booked. West End Art Space would host my debut exhibition: Skin to Steel.

The first thing I did was walk through the gallery and photograph every wall. I then Photoshopped each wall completely blank and treated them like a body waiting for composition.

This is how I have always worked. I see spaces the way I see skin. I ask:

Where does the eye enter?
Where does it rest?
Where is the focal point?
What needs to be quiet and what needs to be loud?

I did not curate from a list or rules. I curated from feeling.

Curation as Storytelling

From the beginning, I knew this couldn’t be a random arrangement of work.

It had to be a narrative; a walk through time, through transformation.

Skin to Steel was always meant to be read like a story:

past, present, and future; evolving toward permanence.

The journey unfolded like this:

Early prints and tattoos — the first visual language, the foundations of my craft.
Books: Isolation and Renascence — creative documentation from earlier seasons, my thoughts in ink and paper.
The bookmark — the spark that ignited VANTA.
The Skin to Steel book — a declaration of transition from skin to metal.
Backstories — the very essence of Skin to Steel: client tattoos, my own back, and years of artistry translated from body to wall. Each piece carries its origin, its wearer, and its evolution from living canvas to enduring structure.
Signature panels — refinement of my visual language and design integrity in steel.
Legacy collections: Damasca and Kyoto — a study in balance, restraint, and composition limited to 5 pieces.
Elementa sculptures — a physical embodiment of philosophical evolution and mastery.
AITELIA — the conceptual horizon. The future of VANTA.

Visitors entered at the beginning. The drawings, the books, the early experiments — and moved forward through time.

Each wall represented a stage of growth until they reached the final works: the Elementa sculptures, standing before the back wall where AITELIA was meant to appear, suspended, glowing on a screen, speaking the language of VANTA’s future.

AITELIA was the original vision for that final moment: a living digital consciousness guiding viewers through the work — the future embodied. While the technology (and budget) wasn’t ready to bring her fully to life, her presence still framed the exhibition’s philosophy.

Skin to Steel became a study in evolution: how the handmade meets the machined, how the analogue becomes digital, and how the temporary becomes permanent.

Some works didn’t make it — Pedal to the Metal; a luxury car art series, Fleazus × VANTA Pet Furniture, and my early neon collaborations with Kings of Neon were intentionally held back. The show demanded clarity. It required restraint and refinement.

Originally, the Elementa series began as The Seven Pillars — inspired by a creative breakthrough in the Blue Mountains. Months of iteration followed; I redrew certain pieces up to eighty times before realising the power had been there all along, in the original forms.

Perfectionism became my teacher. Curation became my mirror.

Every decision - what to include, what to leave out, became a reflection of growth, conviction, and the evolution from art to architecture, from idea to permanence.

The Collections: A Map of Evolution

Each collection is not just a range.

It is a chapter; a record of evolution, experimentation, and growth.

Together, they trace the path from skin to steel, from chaos to clarity, from expression to mastery.

Isolation & Renascence

Two books that became creative anchors during lockdowns.

They documented the early stages of my drawing practice; unfiltered explorations that built the foundation of the visual language later cut into steel.

They were therapy, reflection, and blueprint all in one.

Spark of VANTA (The Bookmark)

The smallest piece that changed everything.

A simple laser-cut bookmark that revealed what my drawings could become when translated into metal.

It was both literal and symbolic — the first manifestation of VANTA, the first glimpse of permanence.

Skin to Steel (The Book)

The bridge between my tattoo years and my fine art practice.

It captured the moment of transition, the decision to move from skin to steel; and documented every challenge and revelation along the way.

It marked the point where artistry met architecture, where intuition became structure.

Signature Collection

My core language, distilled.

These panels define the essence of VANTA — movement, precision, negative space, and balance.

They are the visual DNA of everything that followed.

Damasca

This series taught me the discipline of pattern and the beauty of imperfection.

Inspired by the mesmerising surfaces of Damascus steel, it became a lesson in perfectionism — in chasing precision, yet learning when to let go.

Damasca reminded me that mastery comes from knowing when to stop.

Kyoto

The art of movement and control.

Where Damasca explored discipline, Kyoto embraced grace — saying more with less. Inspired by Japanese gardens and craftsmanship, it focused on refined motion, balance, and the beauty of simplicity.

Women danced through the panels — wind, blossom, and rhythm made steel. Even my Signature Panel Creeping Tiger evolved here into Kage, transformed into elegance and restraint.

Kyoto became the expression of refinement itself — movement mastered through minimalism.

Pedal to the Metal

A luxury automotive collection inspired by classic cars — their lines, curves, and the poetry of motion and power.

While it didn’t appear in Skin to Steel, it represents another arm of the VANTA world — industrial precision meeting elegance.

Fleazus × VANTA

Sculptural pet furniture and objects, designed in collaboration with my cat, Dibs — functional, playful, and beautifully engineered.

It’s a reminder that design can be both serious and lighthearted while still maintaining integrity and craftsmanship.

This series, along with Pedal to the Metal, was intentionally held back from the exhibition — not forgotten, but reserved for their own moment.

Divina

A collection honouring divine grace and feminine strength.

Each piece celebrates form, spirit, and calm femininity — where curves become symbols of resilience, and steel carries softness.

Steel Sanctuary

A tribute to the animals of the Werribee Zoo.

Born from my experience studying their patterns, movements, and spirit, I began to see VANTA motifs hidden within them.

This collection became a quiet homage to nature — a merging of art, wildlife, and reverence.

Homage to Home

A deeply personal triptych honouring my family lineage and my grandmother.

The left panel features a kookaburra, the centre portrays my grandmother with a blue wren, and the right shows a black cockatoo — each surrounded by native Australian flora. These birds have always felt like messengers, symbols of connection between the seen and unseen.

This series became my way of preserving memory in steel — a love letter to legacy, to home, and to the stories that raised me.

VANTA Fine Art Editions

The convergence of my fine art and laser-cut design.

Pieces like The Mandarin Queen, Mary Jane, and Damasca are hand-drawn in Copic marker or digitally and framed in signature VANTA-cut frames — uniting paper, steel, and permanence.

Each edition is limited, catalogued, and archived — a fusion of drawing, craft, and material storytelling.

Elementa

The philosophical core of everything I’ve lived to build.

Five sculptures — Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Aether — representing transformation, balance, and mastery.

They are not just forms, but embodiments of process: grounding, adaptation, ignition, freedom, and transcendence.

Elementa is the physical embodiment of evolution itself — the closing statement of Skin to Steel, and the gateway to what’s next.

Elementa: The Elements of Transformation

The Elementa series is my philosophy turned into form. Each piece stands on its own, yet together they read like a code:

Earth

Grounding, stability and structure. The discipline to keep showing up. The practical side of building a brand, a catalogue, a company.
Water

Adaptability, emotion and intuition. Learning to move around obstacles, to change shape when needed without losing essence.
Fire

Transformation, drive and the pain of necessary destruction. The sacrifices, the late nights, the burning away of old identities that no longer fit.
Air

Freedom, thought and perspective. Finding clarity above the chaos. The ideas that arrive when you finally lift your head.
Aether

The unseen connection between all things. The part of this work that is bigger than me, that speaks in ways I cannot fully explain. The feeling that this world is being built through me, not just by me.

These sculptures are the physical alchemy of the past years. I have taken every experience, every test, every breakthrough and turned it into something permanent.

The Signature Dining Range: Patience in Progress

The Signature Dining Range was never meant to be rushed.

For Skin to Steel, only the prototypes were displayed; enough to tell the story themselves. My supplier missed the production deadline for the third time in a row, just ten days short of the exhibition. It was a hard pill to swallow after three years of ongoing delays, broken promises, and learning the painful realities of manufacturing.

But I chose to see it differently. This range; my vision for a full fine-dining experience crafted entirely in VANTA steel, is still unfolding. It deserves the right collaborators, the right stage, and the right eyes to see it.

Sometimes, the setbacks are signs of redirection. I’ve learnt that you can plan every millimetre of a show, but you can’t control divine timing. You just have to go with the flow, trust your craft, and stay aligned with the bigger picture.

The prototypes stood there quietly in the gallery, proof of concept and persistence. Even unfinished, they spoke volumes of refinement, resilience, and the pursuit of perfection that never really ends.

AITELIA: The Future That Did Not Fit Yet

For four months, I built an AI guide named AITELIA. She was designed to act as a digital host within the exhibition - an interactive guide trained on my story, my process and my language. I hired a CTO and a team of developers.

The idea was that visitors could ask questions about the work and she would respond, speaking as an extension of me.

In practice, the technology and the budget could not yet match the vision. To force it would mean compromise after compromise. The experience became clunky and stripped of its soul.

So I removed it.

That decision hurt, but it was important. If something does not meet the standard of the brand, it does not belong in the room.

The work was not wasted. The database I built for AITELIA now sits behind the scenes as the backbone of VANTA’s storytelling.

Sometimes an idea is not meant to be the main act. Sometimes it is meant to be infrastructure.

The Business Behind the Beauty

People see the finished work on the wall. They do not see the machine behind it.

Behind Skin to Steel there were:

Sponsorship decks and pitch presentations.
Exhibition catalogues and trade catalogues.
Sales structures and pricing logic.
Logistics spreadsheets, courier bookings and installations.
Insurance, contracts and timelines.
Newsletters, website builds and marketing assets.

I built all of this while still tattooing, managing personal life, dealing with ADHD brain-fire, and designing new collections at the same time.

This is the part of the story that almost broke me, but it is also what makes the work real. Art does not exist in a vacuum. For it to meet people, there has to be an engine behind it.

Learning Steel, Architecture and Compliance

The more I built, the more I realised I was not only an artist. I was entering the territory of architecture and construction.

I started to learn:

Steel grades and tolerances.
Powder coat finishes and performance.
Bracketing and fixing methods.
Safety, compliance and engineering principles.
What it means for a piece to be “specified” into a building or space.

I attended architecture and design events, listened to builders and fabricators, and then went home and adjusted my approach. This is still ongoing. I want my work not just to look beautiful, but to stand, to endure and to earn its place in built environments.

Coaching, Noise and Identity

At the same time, I was immersed in business clubs, mentoring circles and entrepreneurship dinners.

I was receiving advice from every direction. Some of it was invaluable. Some of it almost caused me to lose myself.

There was a point where I felt like I was being told to erase who I had been in order to become a “new” version of myself. New Brea, new brand, new identity.

It pushed me into what I can only describe as an identity crisis.

I eventually realised something important: my values had never changed.

Authenticity.
Integrity.
Respect.

I did not need to erase past versions of myself to evolve. I needed to integrate them. Tattooist, artist, designer, director, founder - they are all me. Each chapter made the next one possible.

Boundaries and Alignment

Growth attracted attention and invitations. Some aligned, some did not.

This season taught me to pause before saying yes.

To ask whether each project respected the vision, the work, and the values behind it.

To protect my time, energy, story, and brand.

Boundaries are not walls. They are frameworks; the invisible architecture that protects creativity, intention, and long-term legacy. They ensure that everything connected to VANTA earns its place.

Since meeting Anna from West End Art Space and attending that first ARC Agency event, doors have opened effortlessly. I was invited to exhibit at the next ARC showcases and will join them around Australia next year; a new entry point into the interior design and architecture world that feels perfectly aligned.

Debuting VANTA at the ARC exhibition a month before Skin to Steel placed me in the right rooms with the right people. It built momentum, credibility, and connection. It showed me what happens when preparation meets alignment.

These opportunities are proof that when you hold your standards, the right paths appear; not by force, but by resonance.

Unlocking My Voice

One of the most unexpected gifts of this journey was vocal coaching.

Originally, I began sessions simply to prepare for the opening night speech. I didn’t want to stand in front of a gallery full of people and undersell everything I had built through a nervous mumble.

But what I gained was far greater than a performance skill.

I learnt to breathe properly when I speak.

To hold posture and presence.

To use tone, pacing, and silence with intention.

To speak from my core, not perform from my throat.

Visibility was uncomfortable, but necessary. My work deserved a voice that could carry it.

Through sessions with Liana and Olaide from The Axiom Code, I found that voice. Their energetic and technical coaching unlocked my authority, confidence, and authenticity. It wasn’t just about speaking; it was about embodying who I am and what I represent.

They got me exhibition-ready, but more than that, they equipped me with a lifelong toolkit. One that now allows me to speak confidently at seminars, on podcasts, and at future events, to articulate not only what I create, but why I create it.

The Collaborators and Craftspeople

Skin to Steel was not a solo effort. It was a convergence of many people working at the height of their craft.

Emily - The Harp Lab

Created a live score that blended harp with hip hop and modern soundscapes. It was elegant and powerful, just like the work itself.
Mel - Violet and the Fox

Brought the florals. Sculptural arrangements, refined palettes and careful placement softened the steel and elevated the space.
Kombi Cart

Restores classic Kombi vans into mobile bars. Equipped with a custom VANTA numberplate, their presence brought warmth and hospitality to the room.
The Plough

Offered my first unveiling opportunity in July, earlier in the year. It served as a dress rehearsal and a declaration that I was stepping into this new era as an exhibiting artist. Mark Curated beautiful capanes for the day.
Pllana Wines

Curated wines that matched the atmosphere of the show and added to the overall sensory experience.
Anna - West End Art Space

Gave me full creative freedom. No restraints, no hesitation. She let me use the space exactly as I saw it.
AG Holdings

When another manufacturer failed at the eleventh hour, AG Holdings stepped in and produced the work with precision, professionalism and care. It is rare to find fabricators who genuinely respect the artistic intent. We have since built a strong working relationship that will carry into future projects.

Ella - New Gallery Order

Drove long distances, organised trucks, navigated heavy lifting, and helped with the grunt work no one sees. Installing sculptures, shrink wrapping, unwrapping, placing. Long hours, no shortcuts.
Emma Veness

A dear friend and collaborator who has documented this journey from the moment I decided to mount the exhibition.

Emma doesn’t just capture what I create. She captures who I am when I create.

Since January, she has been there for every milestone: filming consultations, art reveals, and my first architecture shows. She has witnessed the story unfold in real time, guiding me, grounding me, and helping me express the emotion behind the work through her lens.

Her perspective shaped how Skin to Steel was seen, felt, and remembered. Through her camera, she gave form to the unseen, the process, the pressure, and the person behind it all.

Nick VanVidler - NJV Media

An old tattoo industry friend turned photographer. He shot my second book, Renascence. Having him document Skin to Steel created a beautiful full circle moment.
Neon Sheep Films - Jess and Ben

Filmed the story from garage to gallery, from my tattoo days to now. They have seen the transition up close.
Kerry Herschel and Mike - Wolfhound

They produced the professional photo shoot used across all Skin to Steel marketing — portraits of me with the panels and my book, which became the core imagery for the campaign, catalogue, and press.
The Axiom Code

Provided the vocal training that helped me stand up and deliver my speech with clarity and conviction.
Adam

My partner.

My anchor through the storm.

He carried panels, built displays, walked shopping centres with me as I handed out invitations, and held me through every meltdown and every milestone.

When I was on the edge of giving up, he kept me centred. He reminded me why I started.

His patience, steadiness, and unconditional love became the foundation beneath the chaos. He was my constant through six months of pressure and years of building.

This exhibition looked the way it did because he was there; keeping me grounded, fuelled, and believing, even when I didn’t.

Behind every creative vision is structure, and my EA Marian was that structure.

Throughout this entire journey, she kept the machine running smoothly: finalising pitch decks, sending invitations, managing logistics with suppliers and freight, tracking shipments, and ensuring every catalogue, box, and email reached where it needed to.

She handled communication with professionalism and care, freeing me to stay focused on creation. She coordinated with collaborators, kept my calendar on track, and brought calm to chaos.

Every one of these people brought mastery. Every one of them honoured the work.

The Final Month: All In

The last month before opening was intense.

The garage was full. Every surface covered.

We wrapped sculptures. We labelled boxes. We packed catalogues. We ran to printers and fabricators. We triple-checked measurements.

For eight weekends in a row, Adam and I went to different shopping centres and markets carrying one of my VANTA panels. We walked around, caught people’s eyes, talked to them and handed out invitations personally.

There was no budget for digital advertising. So we used what we had - our time, our presence and the work itself.

I tried to eat well, to exercise, to keep my nervous system calm. In the final week that slipped. Sleep was short. Food was whatever we could grab. My body was heavy, but the vision kept me moving.

Three Days of Installation

The week before the opening was a blur of precision, logistics, and relentless focus.

Three days of trucks, tools, and teamwork — every measurement exact, every panel aligned to the millimetre.

Adam handled the technical side flawlessly. His precision anchored the entire setup. Sculptures were positioned perfectly, lighting calculated for every reflection, and each wall balanced for rhythm and proportion.

Friday was the final push. I picked up the lighting equipment from DJ Warehouse, while Nick Vidler came down to film the process — capturing the raw intensity of the install. Jess from Neon Sheep Films arrived for my day-before interview and gallery walkthrough, documenting every emotion leading into the big day.

Mel from Violet and the Fox arrived to style the space — her florals breathing warmth and life into the steel. Kombi Kart set up outside, preparing for service. Every corner of the gallery buzzed with energy and purpose.

My best friend Tilly flew down from the Blue Mountains to support me, helping polish every panel, removing fingerprints, ensuring everything gleamed. That night, we collapsed on the couch and watched my newly released 3000 Podcast episode — it had dropped that very evening. The timing felt poetic, like the universe aligning one more time before the curtain rose.

Pieces that had lived as sketches on my iPad were now life sized on the wall. It was surreal and grounding at the same time.

On the morning of opening, I stood in the gallery and felt a strange quiet inside me. I had stepped into the space, but it also felt like I had stepped into myself.

The Vernissage: All Senses On

By 2:05 pm, the gallery was full.

Every corner was alive. Voices low, laughter soft, glasses clinking. The sound of Emily Rosner’s harp floated through the air, weaving between the sculptures and the crowd. At first, classical, ethereal. The whole room lit up. It was elegant and elevated.

Guests moved slowly through the space. Some held cocktails from Kombi Cart, others sipped Pllana Wines. The light caught the metal just right — reflections dancing across the walls.

Mel’s florals from Violet and the Fox softened the steel, framing each piece with life and colour. People leaned in close to read plaques, scanned QR codes, and lingered in conversation. Every collection told its part of the story — from tattoo origins to fine art, from structure to soul.

The energy was magnetic. The room hummed with curiosity, connection, and awe. I watched people’s faces — the way they touched the walls gently, how they whispered to each other, how they stopped to take it all in.

I received hugs, flowers, congratulations. People used words like inspiring, overwhelming, powerful. Seeing others connect with the work — really feel it — made every late night, every risk, every tear worth it.

It wasn’t just an exhibition. It was an experience — a living reflection of who I am and what VANTA stands for: precision, presence, and the poetry of contrast.

The Speech

The moment before my speech, standing just out of view, my stomach felt like it was full of electricity. I had rehearsed this speech in the car for months. I knew it. But knowing it and delivering it are two different things.

Then it was time.

I stepped out, took the microphone and spoke.

Every word carried the weight of the last four years. I spoke about tattooing, about VANTA, about the people in the room, about what this all meant.

It flowed. Not because I was performing, but because I was fully present. I meant every sentence and I could feel that the room understood it.

The Morning After

The morning after, I woke up in tears.

The adrenaline had faded. The rush was over. My body had finally collapsed.

I didn’t know if I was crying from exhaustion, gratitude, or both, probably both. Six months of pushing everything to the limit. Four years of building toward this moment. A decade of artistry behind it.

For the first time in a long time, there was nothing urgent to do. Just stillness. Just breath.

It was a strange mix of relief, pride, and quiet grief. When you finally reach a summit you’ve been climbing toward for years, there’s a sudden emptiness; a silence after the crescendo.

That morning, I lay there surrounded by flowers and messages, feeling it all at once, the weight, the gratitude, the release.

The Afterglow and the Gap

In the days that followed, I finally stopped.

I lay in bed, resting, replaying everything in my mind — the faces, the applause, the glow of the room. The gallery remained open for another ten days, there were private tours and new enquiries, but inside, I was still catching up to what had just happened.

It hadn’t fully sunk in. After months of constant motion, stillness felt foreign. But within that pause came something deeper — pride. For once, I allowed myself to feel it.

I had built something from nothing. I had seen a vision through from sketch to steel, from concept to creation. And now, I could finally breathe.

This quiet marked a new kind of achievement: learning that rest is part of the process. That slowing down doesn’t mean stopping — it means making space for what comes next.

What Comes Next

From here, it is about permanence and scale.

Applying for more galleries.
Seeking council and public art opportunities.
Working with architects and developers who want sculptural gates, feature walls and integrated metalwork.
Building a team so that future events do not require me to hold every role at once.

I am excited to return to pure creation. That is where I shine. But I am also grateful to now have the tools, structures and experience to support that creativity.

Skin to Steel has opened the floodgates. Whatever comes of it, I know it has prepared me for everything that is next.

Why Skin to Steel Matters

Skin to Steel represents a new era of Australian design.

It is where:

Fine art meets fabrication.
Storytelling becomes structure.
Female artistry commands space within architecture.

It is proof that you can build a brand, a body of work and a world from the ground up, without erasing who you were to become who you are.

This was never just an exhibition. It was the blueprint for everything that will follow. It is a declaration that beauty can be built to last.

From Garage to Gallery - And Beyond

This is not just about steel.

It is about the stories we shape, the spaces we transform and the worlds we build, one line at a time.

It all started in a garage.

And it is only the beginning.

With Gratitude

To everyone who has walked beside me on this journey; thank you.

To my tattoo clients, collectors, friends, family, and collaborators; you are the foundation of everything I’ve built. From the first sketches on skin to the sculptures in steel, your trust, stories, and support have shaped this entire evolution.

To every fabricator, stylist, musician, florist, photographer, videographer, and sponsor; your craft and commitment turned vision into reality. You helped me transform drawings into experiences, and ideas into permanence.

To those who believed quietly, shared my work, offered advice, or showed up when it mattered, you are part of this story too.

To Adam, my rock; thank you for grounding me, for your patience, love, and unwavering faith. To Marian, for holding the structure and keeping every moving part aligned. To Emma, for documenting not just what I do, but who I am when I do it.

This has been a collective creation built from trust, resilience, and love.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me turn Skin to Steel into something real, lasting, and alive.

Credits

Photography: Emma Veness, NJV Media, Kerry Herschel, Mike H

Film: Neon Sheep Films, GUAP Studio

Canapes: The Plough

Florals: Violet and the Fox

Music: The Harp Lab

Bar: Kombi Cart

Wine: Pllana Wines

Venue: West End Art Space

Fabrication: AG Holdings