1854 was the year the of the famous miner rebellion in Ballarat, the Euerka Stockade. There were at least 27 people killed, one of them a woman. Women are not immediately connected with the legend of Eureka, but they were there and they were active. I’ve drawn from historian Clare Wright’s book ‘The Forgotten Rebels of Eureka.’ She asks and answers the question, ‘where are we (women) in the story?’ So vivid and humorous are her historical retellings, I’m inspired to do a whole series just around this piece of history. But the flag is a monumental and visually impactful place to start. Although the official record states that the makers of the flag are ‘unknown,’ It’s widely agreed upon that three women sewed the Eureka flag in the lead up to the rebellion, Anastasia Hayes, Anastasia Withers, and Anne Duke— and Clare Wright believes there was at least one more, Eliza D'Arcy. Clare says, 'I do imagine they were working at night under candlelight and the cover of protection the night afforded. There were certainly government spies who were going through the camp and it would have been noted if somebody had have seen this very large andnon-national flag,' Ms Wright says.

This artwork pays homage to these brave women, who believed in a cause and risked their safety for it. The flag was raised on Bakery Hill on November 29, 1894 and flew proudly for four days before being torn down in the battle. You can see the remaining original pieces in the art gallery of Ballarat.

I think of Ellen every time the wattle blooms. She was 20 and on her way home from Maryborough with her fiancé when she stopped to pick wattle from the side of the road. It’s the last thing she’d ever see. Her fiancé shot her in the back of the head and then shot himself. He was deep in gambling debt and had planned to take his own life, and had written a suicide letter to Ellen. I can only guess as to why he changed his mind and killed her too. Not wanting her to have a life without him? What a disgusting human. Ellen is a 19th century victim of domestic violence, but she’s so much more. A young girl in a new land with her whole life ahead and a love of yellow flowers. I want people to remember her name.

"Eureka" comes from the Ancient Greek word εὕρηκα heúrēka, meaning "I have found (it)." And indeed they did. In the late spring of 1851 two women from the Ravenswood Run, Margaret Kennedy and Julia Farrell, struck gold in "The Rocks" area of the Bendigo Creek. History, the land and it’s Native custodians would never be the same. Creating this artwork brought up many emotions for me; mixed ones. On one hand I was proud to recreate a moment in time for these significant women in our history. Imagining how pristine the creek would have been on that Spring day and the tremendous excitement they would have felt. Feeling thankful that their findings contributed to the beautiful city I live in today. On the other hand I felt profound sadness. The creek doesn't exist in this form in Golden Square anymore (or most places in Bendigo). The discovery of gold heralded a swarm of locusts on the land, in the guise of miners. For the land and the Dja Dja Wurrung people, that glinting nugget changed everything - rapidly.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land

This story fell upon me like a jewel from the sky - I’d had no real luck finding any stories from my own family as far back as the early goldrush. Even though my Ancestry searches indicated many of my relatives had arrived in Australia then. A phone call to a second cousin changed everything. She remember listening to stories told by her mother and sister (my grandmother). In particular the story of my great, great grandmother Mary Ryan, and her 9 year old son Jack, who’d gone missing in the bushland near Colbinabbin. I’d already read some stories about

children dying in the bush so I wasn’t optimistic; heart in mouth as a listened. Jack was missing for two days and was thankfully found by the constabulary. I enjoyed this ending to the story immensely, but my favourite part was the legend about Mary’s hair. According to the oral family history, Mary was so anguished over the disappearance of her boy, that in the time he was missing, her hair turned completely white. I clutched this detail carefully to my chest and saw it in visual form immediately. For me this story was proof of that a mother’s love is the same regardless of era and circumstances. I have no doubt my hair would also turn the palest shade of white if I were to lose one of my children. It was surreal to play the part of Mary in this piece, for a self portrait with my son, who happens to be 9 years old.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land

“Britain’s sodomy laws were implemented in Australia at the beginning of colonisation in 1788. Interestingly, lesbianism was never considered an illegal act, and so the only queer individuals to be convicted – and consequently available to find within public records – were men. This is most likely due to sexist assumptions that women did not enjoy sex, did not have sex drives, or that lesbian sex wasn’t really a thing" - Danielle Scrimshaw

Another thread of the past that is very difficult to find evidence of, this artwork honours the women that loved women on the goldfields. I'vechosen the black swan as their symbol, as for centuries in Europe, the black swan was considered as likely to exist as a unicorn. But there they were, flourishing in Australia. Love is love.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung lands.

To be married often provided safety and security to a woman in the 19th century. I say often, because much like today, it depends on the sort of man you're married to. As Jane Austen wrote, "Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance."

This artwork is inspired by a story told in Ellen Clacy's book, ‘A Lady's Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852–1853.’ Ellen wouldn't reveal the woman in the story's name, so we will call her Jane.Jane sailed from Liverpool with her brother to the goldfields. She met a man on the voyage and fell in love with a promise of marriage. Apparently, love and and the ardent urgings of her fiance caused Jane to 'forget herself' and share a bed before the wedding day. The wedding day came, and Jane was the happiest woman alive. Until her lover failed to show. Left at the alter, and later discovering her pregnancy turned Jane's fortunes greatly. In the 19th century, being an unwed mother was a social catastrophe. Her babe was born and brought some joy back into Jane's life. Briefly. Days passed and the baby grew weaker and died in her arms. Jane, overcome with grief and blood loss from the birth, wandered with her baby for miles. Was she looking for her (douchebag) lover? She was found in the shallows of the river some days later, still clutching her baby to her chest. Jane is a symbol of a grieving mother, but also for all of us who have ever felt used and discarded. May we live the full and rich life she wasn't able to.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung lands and at Gariwerd (the Grampians)

This artwork isn't inspired by just one story, but many. If ever you've walked through a goldfields cemetery you know this story only too well. A 19th century grave stone, perhaps the wife and husband's names pressed at the top; and then the list of 4, 5, 6 little babies engraved underneath. Some survived birth and infancy only to be taken as toddlers or young children. Disease, accidents, nature, lack of nutrition, loss of parents. The woman in the artwork is young, fertile. She has been pregnant 7 times, given birth 5 times and has 1 living child. No amount of gold can stave off death.

Cats probably first arrived in Australia as pets of European settlers during the 18th century, and were later deliberately introduced in an attempt to control rabbits and rodents. Little Josie came to the goldfields in the early 1850's with her family and of course Puss couldn't be left behind. But what Puss gets up to when left to her own devices has grim consequences for the local environment. I'm a cat lover: the cat in the photograph is my mother's cat 'Jeanie.' Cat lover or not, we can't ignore the fact that feral and domestic cats kill millions of native wildlife each year. This is an artwork which highlights one of the devastating consequences of colonisation, and asks the question - what responsibility can I take now?

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land.

Rags to riches. I was inspired by some of the stories I read about the concept of ‘new money.’ It didn’t happen too often, but occasionallypeople really would strike it rich on the goldfields. Working class men and women could rise, often stunningly, above their previous status. According to Emily Skinner’s diary from 1854 “Slips of girls who have scarce known shoes or stockings in a few months will develop into born ladies.” This artwork celebrates the dream, the lottery, that many came here for. Our fair lady is adorned with the finest silk and accessories, and her skirt laden with 23k gold. Will she keep her fortune or blow it all on pretty baubles and dresses?

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land

My Great, great grandmother was Catherine Anne Flood. What I know about her is what I've found on official records. Irish. Came to Australia on a ship called the Shooting Star (sounds romantic). Her occupation was listed as 'housekeeper' (I failed to inherit that skill). Married a German man, Wilhelm Dreschler. They lived in Sedgwick, raised a family. The things I'm longing to know are now buried in the past. What was she like? What did she like? Did she miss her home? How did she meet Wilhelm and come to marry him? In my deep longing to know the women from my past, I feel a sense of loss to have not uncovered anything anecdotal about her. And so I imagine her qualities and interests to foster a lineal connection. She must have been brave and adventurous. Or desperately fleeing poverty and famine. I imagine she loved tea and that's where I get it from. How strange her new life in a completely foreign and new (for Europeans) land must have been. What strength she must have had.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land.

While researching stories of women in the goldrush era of Australia, I couldn't help but wonder if there were any strong folklore practices that arrived with them. I imagined women gathering in secret to bless the Earth and discard the shackles of their Victorian era lives. This beautiful coven is represented by true friends, whom I was blessed to witness in their unity. Little direction was needed by me as they channelled the power of the feminine spirit. This brings to life my imaginings of 'bush witches', as well as the strong friendships immigrant women developed with each other.

Photographed on Dja Dja Wurrung land.

Another gem I unearthed when I was researching my own family connection to the goldfields was actually a secret buried in the past. I’d grown up listening to stories from my mother about the Lawson side of the family, the great great grandfather who had been part of the explorer trio Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth (the party who crossed the Blue Mountains). Imagine my surprise when I was looking at ancestry records, and I discovered that my great, great, great, grandfather was not a Lawson but was in fact a Low Sin. Charles Low Sin married my English great x3 grandmother in the 1850s. Margaret Nixon. To say I was excited was an understatement.

Imagining their union, which was essentially a forbidden love. I know it must have been love because the couple were most likely ostracised in that era. Here is an excerpt from Emily Skinner’s diary from 1854: “I thought it very dreadful to see European women married to them [the Chinese], but many of them kept themselves and their children very respectable and have the latter carefully educated...then a whisper went around that she was a Chinaman’s wife, newly come into that part. I heard afterwards that she was a daughter of a clergy-man and had quitted her home in disgrace.” To imagine my ancestors facing this judgement and navigating their lives as outcasts...the word brave comes to mind. I feel deeply sad that Charles Low Sin’s Chinese heritage was stricken from our family history. Traditions and stories wilfully hidden. They only had one child, William who had a daughter Ruby. I met Ruby many times, she was my great grandmother. She may have had memory of Margaret and Charles. I’ve created a diptych to tell this story. Two images that work together to tell the tale of turning their backs on their old lives and choosing each other.

Another gem I unearthed when I was researching my own family connection to the goldfields was actually a secret buried in the past. I’d grown up listening to stories from my mother about the Lawson side of the family, the great great grandfather who had been part of the explorer trio Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth (the party who crossed the Blue Mountains). Imagine my surprise when I was looking at ancestry records, and I discovered that my great, great, great, grandfather was not a Lawson but was in fact a Low Sin. Charles Low Sin married my English great x3 grandmother in the 1850s. Margaret Nixon. To say I was excited was an understatement.

Imagining their union, which was essentially a forbidden love. I know it must have been love because the couple were most likely ostracised in that era. Here is an excerpt from Emily Skinner’s diary from 1854: “I thought it very dreadful to see European women married to them [the Chinese], but many of them kept themselves and their children very respectable and have the latter carefully educated...then a whisper went around that she was a Chinaman’s wife, newly come into that part. I heard afterwards that she was a daughter of a clergy-man and had quitted her home in disgrace.” To imagine my ancestors facing this judgement and navigating their lives as outcasts...the word brave comes to mind. I feel deeply sad that Charles Low Sin’s Chinese heritage was stricken from our family history. Traditions and stories wilfully hidden. They only had one child, William who had a daughter Ruby. I met Ruby many times, she was my great grandmother. She may have had memory of Margaret and Charles. I’ve created a diptych to tell this story. Two images that work together to tell the tale of turning their backs on their old lives and choosing each other.