Collection: 20¢ Bag of Lollies Collection

The atmosphere of this series is contemplative and somewhat melancholic, suggesting a deliberate act of self-imposed isolation and a quiet rejection of the ubiquitous nature of technology.

In creating these works, I wanted to explore what happens when silence becomes louder than noise. When the absence of constant connectivity forces us to sit with ourselves. Each piece is a meditation on solitude in a hyper-connected culture, where stillness feels almost radical.

The 20¢ Bag of Lollies collection revisits facades from a bygone era - milk bars, movie rentals, phone shops, TV repairs - reimagined as places of retreat rather than commerce. Their doors are closed, their voices muted, their former purposes suspended in time. A lone figure stands before each threshold, neither entering nor leaving, simply existing in the in-between.

At first glance, the teal walls and red figure are visually striking, minimal yet cinematic. The storefronts feel familiar: the places we once went to buy a bag of lollies or rent a tape for the weekend. Now closed, silent, and reimagined, they make us pause. It’s like running into an old friend you haven’t seen in decades, only to realise they’ve changed, or disappeared. These images are uncanny reminders of how quickly those places disappeared, replaced by digital convenience.

The solitary figure feels like us: small against the façades, standing before a locked-up memory, wondering if stepping inside would reconnect us with something lost or if the emptiness itself is the point. The effect is both nostalgic and unsettling, stirring reflection on how much of life has shifted behind screens, and what we might be missing.

For some, these works might spark direct memories: “Remember when…?” For others, they feel like echoes of stories passed down. Either way, the series invites us to pause, to talk, to remember. Perhaps feel maybe even a little sadness, but in a beautiful way. It reminds us not only of what has gone, but of how important it is to hold onto slowness in a world that won’t stop moving.