A Night Of Deepest Blue, 2021 (detail)
The Rhythm of Breath, 2016
What Might Have Been III, 2023
What Might Have Been (I), 2023
What Might Have Been I, 2024 (detail)
What Might Have Been II, 2023
Selkie V, 2024
Selkie V, 2024 (detail)
Selkie VI, 2024
Kindred I, 2024 (detail)
Kindred I, 2024 (detail)
Kindred II, 2024 (detail)
Bangalow Basket, 2012
Resonance, 2023 - Megan Juresa
Adrift, 2024
Coracle, 2018
Beannacht (Blessing), 2021 (detail)
The Rhythm of Breath, 2017
willow, jacaranda, dogwood, bangalow palm, plum & cherry wood
dimensions variable
A work about the loss of my partner, a gifted musician who passed away at 29. It takes its name from a John O'Donohue poem On the Death of the Beloved:
"Now you dwell in the rhythm of breath, as close to me as I am to myself."
Maelstrom, 2019
Bangalow palm, eucalyptus oreades
22cm x 16cm
Woven from eucalyptus oreades and bangalow palm inflorescence. Made during a time of turmoil and transition.
A Night of Deepest Blue, 2021
silk, flax, linen, cotton, grass, hair, cyanotype
dimension variable
A Night of Deepest Blue is drawn from memories of a journey through Western Australia in 2019, exploring the forests and shorelines of the South West.
I flew back East to a cataclysm, bone dry forests exploding in flames and air thick with smoke and ash. Escaping the ember attacks of the Blue Mountains for the Far South Coast, I faced the devastating New Year’s Eve fire-front in Batemans Bay.
Two sets of headphones, made from stitched grass, are connected by a grass cord with a concealed core of human hair. Inside each ear cup is a solar print on cotton – Orthrosanthus Laxus (Morning Iris), and Eucalyptus Diversicolor (Karri), photographed in Walpole-Nornalup National Park.
A Night of Deepest Blue explores symbiosis, biophilia and reverence; the solace found in wild places, and the fragility of ecosystems in precarious times.
What Might Have Been I, 2023 - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been I, 2023 (detail)- Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been I, 2023 (detail) - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been II, 2023 - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been II, 2023 (detail) - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been III, 2023 - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been III, 2023 (detail) - Megan Juresa
What Might Have Been (I), 2023
eucalyptus, linen, beeswax, banksia driftwood
130cm x 28cm x 2cm
(11m total length)
What Might Have Been (II), 2023
eucalyptus, linen, beeswax
52cm x 12cm x 3cm
What Might Have Been (III), 2023
eucalyptus, linen, beeswax, driftwood
83cm x 29cm x 5cm
In the aftermath of a storm I gathered flower buds, torn from the trees before they had a chance to blossom. A meditation on impermanence.
Selkie V, 2024 - Megan Juresa
Selkie V, 2024 (detail) - Megan Juresa
Selkie VI, 2024 - Megan Juresa
Selkie IV, 2024 - Megan Juresa
Selkie IV, 2024 (detail) - Megan Juresa
Selkie IV, 2024 (detail) - Megan Juresa
Selkie II, 2023 - Megan Juresa
Selkie II, 2023 (detail) - Megan Juresa
Selkie II, 2023 (detail) - Megan Juresa
Selkie II, 2023
Ecklonia radiata (golden kelp), linen, beeswax, quartz, freshwater pearls, driftwood
163cm x 27cm x 1cm
Selkie IV, 2024
Phyllospora comosa (crayweed), linen, silk, beeswax, wire, paper, quartz, freshwater pearls
180cm x 22cm x 3cm
Selkie V, 2024
Phyllospora comosa (crayweed), linen, silk, beeswax, wire, paper, quartz, freshwater pearls
192cm x 20cm x 3cm
Selkie VI, 2024
Ecklonia radiata (golden kelp), linen, beeswax, quartz, freshwater pearls, driftwood
76cm x 24cm x 2cm
A storm system was a catalyst for the exploration of new materials, windfallen and washed ashore. This ongoing series honours a Selkie who has reclaimed their coat, regained their autonomy, and returned to the sea.
Kindred I, 2024
Kindred I, 2024 (detail)
Kindred II, 2024 (detail)
Kindred II, 2024
Kindred II, 2024
Kindred I, 2024
Corymbia maculata (spotted gum), linen, beeswax
446cm total length
208cm x 19cm
Kindred II, 2024
Eucalyptus robusta (swamp mahogany), linen, beeswax
330cm total length
153cm x 15cm
Made with flower buds gathered after a storm. I was thinking about prayer beads and the symbolism of the Seed of Life, interconnectedness and creation.
Resonance, 2023
grass, cotton, beeswax, vintage velvet, vintage linen thread (a gift from John Parkes)
19cm x 17cm x 8 cm
I was thinking of longing, transcendence, and Wendell Berry’s beautiful words:
“I come into the peace of wild things”.
The vintage velvet in this piece was a gift and has a history. A couple were separated by the onset of the Cultural Revolution. The husband, unable to leave, sent cloth to his wife. They were never reunited. Resonance has a twin, Reverence.
Beannacht (Blessing), 2021
grass, cotton, linen, quartz, freshwater pearls
Stitched with grass, cotton, flax, freshwater pearls and quartz, Beannacht (Blessing) takes its name from a poem by John O’Donohue:
“On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders, and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you… may the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours.”
Beannacht was made in response to the overwhelming terror of the New Year’s Eve fires in Batemans Bay 2019. The forests are slowly regenerating, utter devastation giving way to new growth, though they will never be the same.
I made these vessels while I was pregnant with my son, born two years after the wall of fire. The empty space within the vessels and precious stones nestled within reflect possibilities and new life after a time of loss.
The Constellation of Your Heart, 2019
salvaged denim, grass, cotton, vintage velvet (a gift from Nalda Searles), luminous thread
Made for India Flint’s collaborative exhibition Gardens of the Heart at Fabrik, Lobethal SA, for the Adelaide Fringe Festival 2019.
The Southern Cross and Scorpio constellations were stitched with luminous thread and remain visible in the dark.
Emu, 2011
Bower Bird, 2011
Bower Bird (detail), 2011
Currawong, 2011
Emu, Crow, Currawong, 2011
Emu, 2011
eucalyptus, willow, plum wood, cherry wood, ivy, jacaranda, bangalow palm
Bower Bird, 2011
willow, ivy, jasmine, bangalow palm
Currawong, 2011
willow, ivy, jasmine, jacaranda, bangalow palm
Some early pieces when I first started working predominantly with natural fibres, coming from a background of drawing and photography. There is a meditative and therapeutic aspect to weaving and working with natural fibres, and it helped me to navigate a path beyond grief.
The Kentucky cellist Ben Sollee saw these early pieces and gave a shoutout to Blue Mountains weavers at his show in Sydney. He is a beautiful soul and to this day I am grateful to Ben for his encouragement.