In Vignettes, Hickey explores the intricate relationship between the external and internal through still life arrangements and composition. Each work, adorned with vibrant blooms and patterned textiles offer a window into the artist's contemplations of life and home.

Titles such as Sunbathers in Studio Jungle and Tropical Kitchen Vistas evoke scenes of hot Queensland summers, tropical fruits, and the intense sundrenched colours of the region.

Contentment Pears and Firework Blooms represents domestic bliss. The vivid vermillion hues of the Australian natives burst across the patterned pinks of the Suzani background. A visual feast and decadent celebration of joy. An appreciation for what is and excitement for what will come.

Each composition teems with life. Playful figurines, tropical fruits and colourful birds, blooming gums, patterned vases, white coral fish and nostalgic granny squared blankets – all tableaux vivants that pulse with a vitality and optimism. A celebration of beauty, of life.

These energetic vignettes are a tapestry of memory and imagination, of languid summers and introspective studio sessions, of beauty and domestic contentment. Each image is an invitation to share the artists world. A painted wish. A collective dream.

Gentle Gods explores the human desire for meaning-making and connection to the divine. Drawing inspiration from vintage imagery and tarot symbolism, Hickey crafts a world where gentle gods and wild creatures coexist. Each painted idol is a personal apparition, a constructed deity born from a diverse range of histories, contexts, and worlds.

In A Gentle Man (Guardian of Avian Children) Hickey explores traditional nurturer roles and notions of masculinity. The central figure, inspired by a vintage footballer, tenderly cradles a bird in lieu of a football. Accompanied by apples, flowers, and a bulbous plant - symbolic of a merging of male and female elements – this image celebrates the quiet power of a gentle man, a gentle god.

Strength explores themes of internal fortitude and empowerment. The female subject calmly embraces a leopard whilst softly clutching an orange snake. Both animals are potentially dangerous, yet their Guardian’s presence placates their instinctual natures. Orchids adorn her hair symbolizing renewal and rebirth. The tropical flowers are known for their ability to bloom repeatedly, often symbolizing renewal, rejuvenation, and the cycle of life. In the background are floral emblems and fruit signifying growth and nourishment.

Similarly, in Queen of Her Domain, a regal figure sits proudly on her throne amidst background patterns and tropical growth, exuding an internal confidence, and sovereignty. A bird perched on her arm and an African bongo at her feet symbolize the connection between the wild and the tamed. These larger-than-life depictions overwhelm with their presence (their canvases measuring 140cm x 180cm), yet emanate a gentle power, embodying a sense of ease and self-assurance.

At the heart of the collection lies the notion of the gentle deity—an archetype embodying compassion, tenderness, and wisdom. These Gentle Gods are a contemplative visual exploration of power and vulnerability, of strength and sensitivity. These dichotomies reveal the multidimensional nature of power, and its expression in our internal/external worlds.

REQIUEM

An act of remembrance.

My figurative paintings are inspired by images of people – particularly women - from the past. Through the painting process, I stitch my life with their imagined ones. A collaged attempt at connection. A merging of unspoken narratives and mythologies.

The stranger in the photo becomes kindred. The act of recontextualization is like a pneuma, bringing new life into the old.

The process reminds me of the impermanence and transient nature of life. Their forms become ancient emblems and deities. Universal, cross-cultural and connected to a long line of histories and worlds.

Themes of the concealed and revealed, the obscured and the ‘seen’ are often at play. Figures and forms coalesce with patterned textiles, merging and emerging into an energetic space. The still life arrangements seek to capture a memory, a moment in time. Once painted, these plants and flowers are forever alive - the harbingers of an everlasting spring.

To be home, to find home, conjures more than the bricks and mortar of an address or location. Home speaks of a feeling or concept that transcends time and place. It evokes a warmth, a knowing, a oneness. It feels safe. In this sacred dwelling you can let loose, let your guard down, truly be yourself. You are loved there. It is a protection from the outside world and a set of external expectations, rules and agendas. It is the quiet. It is a space to shed skin, relax and replenish.

The collective experience for some has been a year of stillness, transition and acceptance. Where is your home? Where does it exist? Is it expressed in the objects you’ve collected and curated? Does it reside in your heart? We all have versions of what constitutes ‘home’ for us.

For me this period has been one of reflection and profound contentment. In our busy, fractured lives we are project driven, time poor, always searching and striving for something more. The art of contentment – of looking around and seeing the beauty of exactly where we are, has driven the work.

There are common motifs – blue and white china vases, wooden birds, Suzani patterned tablecloths, Australian natives and available blooms from the local supermarket, posing art deco statues, dancing dogs ready for a belly scratch, references to Matisse studio posters, Preston’s painted flowers, and a pregnant Olley jug found in an antique store in the Tweed Valley. Dream-like imagery merges with the reality of the surrounds. It is a fairyland of forms that seem to dance and vibrate off one another, anticipating heart-bursting satisfaction and joy in the small things.

As children we are comforted by dear toys and trinkets. They become witness to our growth, tears and joys. These coveted items represent the little relationships we’ve formed and time journeys we’ve had. They become emblematic of the life we’ve deliberately created. They are harbingers of dreams yet to be realised. They form the hearth, the gathering place, the personal goods and chattels that make a house our home.

Words: Sarah Hickey

“With some,

we’re certain our

hearts must have been

acquainted,

long before

we ever met them.”

- Shakeib Orgunwall

The relationship between the maker and the made is an intimate, profound one. The creative work is a culmination of the artist’s inner dialogue; the thoughts, dreams and visions, finally birthed into external form after a solitary gestation. The made is laden with symbols and secret wisdoms finally revealed to the artist in their waking life, a treasure trove of unexamined fears and anxieties, hopeful portents and inner inklings extracted from the dark and put out into the light. The creative work is a twin soul, a reflection of the maker – a kindred spirit – at once familiar and acquainted, yet revelatory. In this kinship, this symbiosis, they learn from one another; they transform and outgrow skins and evolve. So is the relationship between Hickey and her creative offspring.

Twins loom large in Hickey’s latest collection. The family of women, spiritual emblems, avatars and selves, are ever present in her work and are now seen in pairs. They could be sisters (Sisters with Secrets and Fruits (Homage to Gauguin)), bosom friends (Kindreds (with small headed victories and fertility snakes)) or twin selves in conversation with one another (The Dancers (split decisions and always backstage)). Their twin forms almost appear conjoined at times, overlapping skins, interconnected embraces, two parts of the whole. There is an unspoken bond between the women, a united front and shared knowingness, a guardianship of one another – we are witness to their intimacy, yet we remain on the outer. Theirs is a communion of souls our human hearts long for; a wholeness and completeness. A peaceful unity and familiarity.

Friendly snakes also appear in the work. Like the women, the snakes appear in pairs. In Kindreds (with small headed victories and fertility snakes) their benign yellow forms connect and entwine the women – one emerging from the bosom and twirling around the wrist, the other worn like a crown about to move onto her companion’s head. There’s an implied circular movement connecting the snakes and women’s heads. In The Blonde Itinerant (Shapeshifter, Snake Charmer and Tiger Tamer) the Hollywood glamour caresses and wears the twin snakes like a shawl or protective cloak. The large pythons embrace and wrap themselves around the purple tiger and her human companion – all at ease and at one with the other. The snakes in both images hint at the infinity sign, or ouroboros – the ancient symbol depicting a snake eating its own tale – representing eternity and the continual renewal of life. As snakes shed their skins, they leave their old form behind to emerge a sleeker newer version of themselves. The snakes remind us that life, like creativity, is in constant flux. It is a moving, breathing, evolving organism that must grow and transform – the alternative is stasis, passivity and lifelessness.

A kindred spirit is someone with whom we share a deep understanding, an abiding knowingness. It is a relationship in which explanations are unnecessary and communication occurs in a thousand invisible ways, often without words. Our separate parts become intertwined; our souls forever joined. And whether it occurs in an instant of immediate connection, or takes root over years of interactions and interdependence, once made, we’re certain we were always connected.

It is kindred spirits that Hickey releases into the world in the hope that they form their own connections, families and kin. The intimacy between the artist and her art, the residual emotion of the creative act, travels into other hearts and homes. It is there they are joined with familiar souls, kindreds, who have known them long before their inception.

Sarah Hickey’s latest collection, Camouflage, is an invitation to share in her wonder of the creative process, its purpose, and its products. Hers is an attempt to merge reality and mythology, to breathe substantive life into an otherwise internal world of narratives and symbols. Each work is a snapshot, a diary entry, an attempt to harness the chaotic thoughts and sensory impulses through repetition and rhythm on the canvas, in layer upon layer of patterns, organic shifting lines, and bright, textured colours.

In the collection we find suzani rugs and dragon fruit blooms, vermillion lemons, blue and white china vases, femme tribes, knitted blankets, bearded, blue-skinned sages, and cheeky birds. Incongruous subjects often come together playfully. In A tiger on my neck and a snake up my sleeve a pink tiger cub is draped over a woman’s shoulders perhaps an embodiment of her inner strength, or maybe a deliberate folly. A snake up her sleeve an indication that something wild and potentially dangerous lurks behind the maternal scene. In A Beautiful Brood we see two women cloaked and connected by a crocheted rug, inseparable from each other and their avian family. In Merged the subject reposes peacefully as the mountains of the Tweed Valley. Time and again, the subjects blend with their environments, separate parts dancing, at one with the other.

Camouflage exists in the liminal space between background and foreground. It questions whether art is a bold declaration of individuality and uniqueness, or a place for the artist to hide, protected in her space, unrecognisable and inaccessible against the backdrop of her works. Or is it an ecosystem for further creativity, freeing the artist and beckoning her ever deeper into her own work, where her mark and her identity become inextricably enmeshed, each recursively feeding the other?

The works are undeniably beautiful and naively colourful, rebelliously so. Each is emblazoned with the irrepressible energy and hope of the artist. They revel in messiness and tension and imperfection, pulled constantly between freedom and expectation. These works are an offering of emotion and intuition to a world that demands detached rationality, a reminder that art is, for so many, a lived experience, profound and visceral.

Words by George and Sarah Hickey

The impenetrable, sprawling jungle canopy hides and protects the spectrum of life, in all its wondrous vivacity and callous brutality. It is a place that breathes and runs, that sprouts and shoots, that slithers and growls and screams. It is simultaneously dangerous and exotic, yet sheltered and nourishing. The jungle is a crèche, a playground, a place of courtship and companionship, a combat zone, and a charnel house. It exists, unapologetically and unreservedly, in fecund and fetid beauty.

In each of us lies a jungle, our faces but canopies, glossy, protective coatings to shelter vulnerable cores from the harsh gaze of outsiders. The visage we present, particularly as women, is courteous and cultured, shaped into conformity, polished by an inexorable spray of opinions and expectations and self-regulation to reflect the world around us.

Yet we remain connected to the truth, which is far older and far deeper. It is a story of dualities, like the jungle, weaved into the tales and traditions of our ancestors, painted on the walls of caves and temples, and masked in the lullabies of our youth. We see it in the blue face of Shiva, depicted in benevolence and destruction, and in the Tarot cards whose upside-down hanged man links the underworld and heaven. The internal and external, masculine and feminine, life and death – they are forever linked, and eternally separate.

The jungle looks upon those who look upon it. And it is at such depths, whether we be spurred to brazenness or timidity, that we find ourselves.

Words by: George Hickey

“I am she who lifts the mountains

When she goes to hunt,

Who wears mamba for a headband

And a lion for a belt.

Beware!

I swallow elephants whole

And pick my teeth with rhinoceros horns,

I drink up rivers to get at the hippos.

Let them hear my words!

Nhamo is coming

And her hunger is great.”

― Nancy Farmer, A Girl Named Disaster

“Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” Gabriel García Márquez[1]

Sarah Hickey’s latest collection, ‘Vessel’, builds upon an oeuvre of images concerned with the conception, birthing and rebirthing of forms, of selves.

Building on and refining Hickey’s trademark stylistic features of stencilled patterning, rich embellishment, floral motifs, birds, and beautiful women gazing skyward or directly at the observer, this collection also introduces the traditional 'still life' into her work. Full, pregnant vases of flowers, dripping and abundant with heavy blooms, spill onto the canvas extending beyond the frames. Thickly applied oils, stylised line and vibrant colour speak of an interior world, of impression and emotion, rather than real, material still life arrangements.

Vessels or vases are classic symbols of the feminine. “Vessels accept, contain, protect and preserve the birth/death/rebirth cycle of life at both the physical and metaphysical level”[2]. The functions of the vessel are holding, immersion or pouring and flowing, all characteristics of the Mother Goddess. In religious symbolism the vessel can be a medium through which something creative and powerful flows, as in a vessel for the Holy Spirit. In alchemical or hermetic lore the vase is the place where miracles occur, the mother's womb, where birth takes shape, and hence the key to the secrets of transmutation[3]. This spiritual notion of the vessel, that the flesh and bone of our physical form contains something as intangible and invisible and hard to define as the soul, prevails throughout Hickey’s work.

Hickey’s vessels and vases are organic, or rather, are bodily organs serving as decorative table pieces. In Ventricle we see a pink fleshy vase, as heart, and more, the flowers folds of skin and pink labia. In Doubleheader (with blooms) and Vessel (with lips), the vases contain the heads of previous femme forms, like stacked babushka dolls, staring outward from their containment. In Mimesis (where bluebirds fly) a beautiful dark haired woman, adorned with bulbous red waratahs and happy bluebirds, holds her hopeful gaze upon a distant horizon. Partially masked by one of the birds, a swollen, vulva-shaped flower, like the root of an orchid, reaches toward the solar plexus like a flaccid phallus. These shapes are reminiscent of the Hindu concept of linga-yoni, an iconic representation of the divine phallus and vagina in union, a union representing the eternal process of creation and regeneration.

As the artist describes, “the women I produce – I see them as avatars, fantasy selves, family – they’re part of my brood.”[4] They are, like all artistic creations, as children birthed, the artist’s heart walking outside her body[5]. And once birthed, no longer constrained only to the artist’s imagination, but free finally to exist in their own right, and to reinvent themselves, again and again, upon each new viewing and in every change of light.

[1] Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the time of Cholera (New York: Alfred A Knopf, 1988)

[2] Jean Raffa, https://jeanraffa.wordpress.com/2014/02/12/the-feminine-symbolism-of-vessels/

[3] Michelle Jennings, http://www.whitewavedreams.com/vasemeaning.html

[4] Louise O’Neil, “A Joining of Souls”, http://sarahhickey.com.au/new-page/

[5] Elizabeth Stone, A Boy I Once Knew: What a teacher learned from her student (Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2002)

Roost and Brood

“As artists, we often speak of our creations as our ‘brainchildren’ but we forget that our ideas and dreams impregnate us. We are inhabited by a larger life than we know. As we doubt our own identity, that identity is still guiding us, still nudging us to our rightful path.”   Julia Cameron

Home is, colloquially, where the heart resides; and so, it seems natural and right that this collection moves from explorations of feminine fertility and motherhood (Viscera, 2013), to the idea of internal character, spirituality and that secret inner place in which each of us finds rest.

This collection is a reflection of Sarah’s own personal and artistic journey, to feel ‘at home’ in her own skin, to connect with what is most important to her – simple pleasures (‘Drinks with the Neighbours’), the delight of natural beauty (‘Abundant Harvest’, ‘A Floral Festoon’), and deeply spiritual and reflective themes (‘Bless This House’, ‘The Guardian’, ‘Queenslander Worship’).

Earlier works – Sarah’s brood - are her hallmark, of sorts. Playful goddesses, elegant duchesses and wild sirens, are “women who reside in glittering, exotic worlds of ornamentation and beauty”. What I notice most in this collection is a desire to move beyond embellishment and fantasy, to a more contemplative place.

The heart of this collection is marked symbolically by the beauty of the - now, less and less ubiquitous, but still iconic - ‘Queenslander’ home; and it is this that draws the collection together. It is a call to values of old; of slowing down and nurturing; of gentle conversations and quiet reflections; of contentment and belonging; of respecting, rather than obliterating the past.

Interesting, then, that many of the pieces in this collection have been painted over older work - giving those very goddesses, duchesses and sirens a place to rest, to call home.

Roost noun: a place where birds rest or sleep/ verb: to settle down for rest or sleep, to come to rest after descending from the air, to establish or place comfortably or snugly.

Brood noun: a group of young birds (such as chickens) that were all born at the same time, a group having a common nature or origin, the children of a family. Verb: to cover and warm eggs as the young inside develop.

Words by Erin Hitzke, 2014.

Roost and Brood

“As artists, we often speak of our creations as our ‘brainchildren’ but we forget that our ideas and dreams impregnate us. We are inhabited by a larger life than we know. As we doubt our own identity, that identity is still guiding us, still nudging us to our rightful path.”   Julia Cameron

Home is, colloquially, where the heart resides; and so, it seems natural and right that this collection moves from explorations of feminine fertility and motherhood (Viscera, 2013), to the idea of internal character, spirituality and that secret inner place in which each of us finds rest.

This collection is a reflection of Sarah’s own personal and artistic journey, to feel ‘at home’ in her own skin, to connect with what is most important to her – simple pleasures (‘Drinks with the Neighbours’), the delight of natural beauty (‘Abundant Harvest’, ‘A Floral Festoon’), and deeply spiritual and reflective themes (‘Bless This House’, ‘The Guardian’, ‘Queenslander Worship’).

Earlier works – Sarah’s brood - are her hallmark, of sorts. Playful goddesses, elegant duchesses and wild sirens, are “women who reside in glittering, exotic worlds of ornamentation and beauty”. What I notice most in this collection is a desire to move beyond embellishment and fantasy, to a more contemplative place.

The heart of this collection is marked symbolically by the beauty of the - now, less and less ubiquitous, but still iconic - ‘Queenslander’ home; and it is this that draws the collection together. It is a call to values of old; of slowing down and nurturing; of gentle conversations and quiet reflections; of contentment and belonging; of respecting, rather than obliterating the past.

Interesting, then, that many of the pieces in this collection have been painted over older work - giving those very goddesses, duchesses and sirens a place to rest, to call home.

Roost noun: a place where birds rest or sleep/ verb: to settle down for rest or sleep, to come to rest after descending from the air, to establish or place comfortably or snugly.

Brood noun: a group of young birds (such as chickens) that were all born at the same time, a group having a common nature or origin, the children of a family. Verb: to cover and warm eggs as the young inside develop.

Words by Erin Hitzke, 2014.

Roost and Brood

“As artists, we often speak of our creations as our ‘brainchildren’ but we forget that our ideas and dreams impregnate us. We are inhabited by a larger life than we know. As we doubt our own identity, that identity is still guiding us, still nudging us to our rightful path.”   Julia Cameron

Home is, colloquially, where the heart resides; and so, it seems natural and right that this collection moves from explorations of feminine fertility and motherhood (Viscera, 2013), to the idea of internal character, spirituality and that secret inner place in which each of us finds rest.

This collection is a reflection of Sarah’s own personal and artistic journey, to feel ‘at home’ in her own skin, to connect with what is most important to her – simple pleasures (‘Drinks with the Neighbours’), the delight of natural beauty (‘Abundant Harvest’, ‘A Floral Festoon’), and deeply spiritual and reflective themes (‘Bless This House’, ‘The Guardian’, ‘Queenslander Worship’).

Earlier works – Sarah’s brood - are her hallmark, of sorts. Playful goddesses, elegant duchesses and wild sirens, are “women who reside in glittering, exotic worlds of ornamentation and beauty”. What I notice most in this collection is a desire to move beyond embellishment and fantasy, to a more contemplative place.

The heart of this collection is marked symbolically by the beauty of the - now, less and less ubiquitous, but still iconic - ‘Queenslander’ home; and it is this that draws the collection together. It is a call to values of old; of slowing down and nurturing; of gentle conversations and quiet reflections; of contentment and belonging; of respecting, rather than obliterating the past.

Interesting, then, that many of the pieces in this collection have been painted over older work - giving those very goddesses, duchesses and sirens a place to rest, to call home.

Roost noun: a place where birds rest or sleep/ verb: to settle down for rest or sleep, to come to rest after descending from the air, to establish or place comfortably or snugly.

Brood noun: a group of young birds (such as chickens) that were all born at the same time, a group having a common nature or origin, the children of a family. Verb: to cover and warm eggs as the young inside develop.

Words by Erin Hitzke, 2014.

December 10 – 22, 2013

This collection features images of embellished, bejewelled women whose hollowed viscera present like windows to the inner self, the roots of life, and the organic palaces contained within.

The concept of experiencing emotion through the stomach or guts is both powerful and appealing; the visceral honours feelings and intuitive ideas rather than traditional notions of a detached, rational intellect. I believe this instinctual approach to image -making leads to revelatory insights and deeply personal narratives. The visceral is a connection to the soul.

Creating this work has driven home the revelatory nature of the intuitive approach. I have ‘followed my gut’ in image composition and allowed ideas to germinate and develop in the faith that personal insights and clarity would emerge. Just as new life springs from the viscera, what has materialised has been a personal exploration of fertility, children and the mythology of motherhood

Like the haruspices of the augurs of old, these spiritual female companions are graciously and gently allowing me to explore these ideas whispering through their forms the true messages of the divine within me. I listen to them in wonder at the innate intelligence we all contain within ourselves.

December 10 – 22, 2013

This collection features images of embellished, bejewelled women whose hollowed viscera present like windows to the inner self, the roots of life, and the organic palaces contained within.

The concept of experiencing emotion through the stomach or guts is both powerful and appealing; the visceral honours feelings and intuitive ideas rather than traditional notions of a detached, rational intellect. I believe this instinctual approach to image -making leads to revelatory insights and deeply personal narratives. The visceral is a connection to the soul.

Creating this work has driven home the revelatory nature of the intuitive approach. I have ‘followed my gut’ in image composition and allowed ideas to germinate and develop in the faith that personal insights and clarity would emerge. Just as new life springs from the viscera, what has materialised has been a personal exploration of fertility, children and the mythology of motherhood

Like the haruspices of the augurs of old, these spiritual female companions are graciously and gently allowing me to explore these ideas whispering through their forms the true messages of the divine within me. I listen to them in wonder at the innate intelligence we all contain within ourselves. 

This collection of female forms explore the idea of body as Tabernacle; a residence or dwelling place for a divine presence. Pregnant with their own imagery, these idols house replicas of themselves; like a set of babushka dolls layering over one another. 

Rich with ornamentation and spiritual symbolism, these tattooed deities are earnest in their attempt to capture something of an inner soul or life force. “We are more than this physical flesh and bone” they whisper amidst the patterned flowers and golden halos.

This collection of female forms explore the idea of body as Tabernacle; a residence or dwelling place for a divine presence. Pregnant with their own imagery, these idols house replicas of themselves; like a set of babushka dolls layering over one another. 

Rich with ornamentation and spiritual symbolism, these tattooed deities are earnest in their attempt to capture something of an inner soul or life force. “We are more than this physical flesh and bone” they whisper amidst the patterned flowers and golden halos.

I love painting women. Women who reside in glittering, exotic worlds of ornamentation and beauty. Some are accompanied by owls and assorted avian, others are paired with the more risky of the animal kingdom. Hair-filled and fur laden, they feel like the perfect accessories to each Goddess’ ensemble. 

Most recently the women have been sporting horns. Not the devilish horns associated with satanic worship, but bull horns or stag horns, which resonate with the hybrid pagan Gods worshipped before Christianity. To me they represent strength and bull-headed determination, the potential to defend or protect the herd and to warn off potential competition – all attributes usually associated with masculinity.

Despite their organic crowns these women are not overtly aggressive. They wear them as a badge of honour or status, as if to say: ‘I may seem immersed in this timid  floral lace landscape, but I have these horns, this pride, this potential for danger, this potential for strength’.

I believe the act of creating art feels like a conversation with spirit, a deeper energy of understanding. We are more than this physical flesh and bone. Perhaps my fascination with all that is beautiful, adorned, and embellished is a reflection of who we are on the inside. It is a more adequate portrayal of who we are at a soul level. Julia Cameron (New York writer/artist) expresses this idea so eloquently; 'We are ourselves works of art, and as we work to bring forward the art within us, we express our inner divinity' (‘Walking in this World’ by Julia Cameron p.40).

I love painting women. Women who reside in glittering, exotic worlds of ornamentation and beauty. Some are accompanied by owls and assorted avian, others are paired with the more risky of the animal kingdom. Hair-filled and fur laden, they feel like the perfect accessories to each Goddess’ ensemble. 

Most recently the women have been sporting horns. Not the devilish horns associated with satanic worship, but bull horns or stag horns, which resonate with the hybrid pagan Gods worshipped before Christianity. To me they represent strength and bull-headed determination, the potential to defend or protect the herd and to warn off potential competition – all attributes usually associated with masculinity.

Despite their organic crowns these women are not overtly aggressive. They wear them as a badge of honour or status, as if to say: ‘I may seem immersed in this timid  floral lace landscape, but I have these horns, this pride, this potential for danger, this potential for strength’.

I believe the act of creating art feels like a conversation with spirit, a deeper energy of understanding. We are more than this physical flesh and bone. Perhaps my fascination with all that is beautiful, adorned, and embellished is a reflection of who we are on the inside. It is a more adequate portrayal of who we are at a soul level. Julia Cameron (New York writer/artist) expresses this idea so eloquently; 'We are ourselves works of art, and as we work to bring forward the art within us, we express our inner divinity' (‘Walking in this World’ by Julia Cameron p.40).

An excerpt from Louise O'Neil's essay, A Joining of Souls :

'Viewing the oeuvres of Brisbane artist, Sarah Hickey, feels very much to me like a transportation back to my childhood. Not back so early into childhood as the time where little girls do not know that they’re being seen and can carelessly mix gumboots with lace dresses, and have no shame in wearing the remnants of the morning’s breakfast on their collar.

Where I’m transported to is the age of awareness in a young girl’s life, where hormones and womanly imitation take hold, and the little girl realises that there are expectations, both internal and external, placed upon her. I see the women in Sarah’s work much in the same way that I saw my mother when I was on that verge between girlhood and pubescence – to my innocent child-eyes she was powdered, pristine, and feminine, with the womanly knowledge and confidence that only comes with age and experience, creating an almost regal air of female belonging. I believe many women can recall sliding around the house in their mother’s high-heels, or making extremely colourful attempts at a made-up face with mysterious pots of eye-shadow and tubes of lipstick in vain efforts to speed the growing process and transform from cute little girls to beautiful women.

It is these same feelings of awe, admiration and affection that confront me when I meet the gaze of one of Sarah’s creations. These are strong, empowered women: they bring to mind women that I know, women that I wish I knew, and women that I aspire to be.'

 Louise O’Neil, July 2010

A excerpt from Louise O'Neil's essay A Joining of Souls :

'The Icons and Circus Sirens see Sarah combine the playfulness of the Goddesses with the serene yet serious atmosphere of the Duchesses, and this theme is only heightened with the progression of Jungle Fleshed and Floral Vamps.

Jungle Fleshed Femme Fatales are again adorned by the piercing eyes of feathered creatures, and the eyes of the women have adjusted too – from the flirtatious and seductive glances of the Goddesses and Duchesses, the Femme Fatales stare at the viewer with eyes much like the sleek stare of a lioness as in The Watching Huntress – Can See the Meat for the Trees (2010), or the sparkling awareness in the eyes of Queen Amazon and her Avian Entourage (2010), ensuring that she is the first to see an approaching friend or foe.

Angela Carter writes a similar description of one of her characters in the acclaimed The Bloody Chamber, describing a woman of ‘such potent and bizarre charm, of a dark, bright, wild yet worldly thing whose natural habitat must have been some luxurious interior decorator’s jungle filled with potted palms and tame, squawking parakeets.’3 This description is well suited to the Femme Fatales, as while their eyes may convey a raw animalistic understanding, they are in no way wild or savage, and Lioness Leonora on the Hunt with her Fan Dance (2010) confirms with her bejewelled collar that feminine adornment and luxury is in no way lost on these jungle beauties.'

 Louise O’Neil, July 2010