“A collection of paintings born from a desire to return to stillness, to presence, and to the quiet restoration found in nature.”
Before you begin, press play.
Brett Anthony Shaw composed a twenty-minute score for Natura. It played through the room while the audience moved between the paintings.
“I wanted the music to feel like an invisible thread between the viewer and the work, something that could hold them in the narrative of the collection.
I built the compositions using natural field recordings and organic textures such as wind, and the humming of bees, blending them with gentle instrumentation.”
The exhibition was made to be taken slowly. The music will keep playing as you read.
What Natura was
Over two days in September 2025, thirty-two paintings were shown together for the first time at the Queensland Multicultural Centre in Brisbane.
“For this show, Jessica collaborated with poet Anna McGahan and composer Brett Anthony Shaw. Each has created original work in direct response to the paintings. As you move through the space, you’ll be guided by story and sound, with every piece written and composed to draw you deeper into the work, one moment at a time.”
Anna wrote a poem for every painting. Audiences carried them through the room, reading each one in front of the work it was written for.
“At its heart, Natura is a reminder that we all belong to something older, deeper, and infinitely bigger than ourselves. Wherever we are in the world, we wake to a sunrise and fall asleep under the same sky.”
Where it came from
“This body of work is my way of telling the story of that shared belonging. The sky is the one place that connects us all, something bigger than our own small stories, reminding us that we belong to it and to one another.
This work was born at a time when I found myself standing on the edge of eternity.
Four years ago I entered a liminal space. For a while I was not alive and not yet dead. It was then I realised how little I truly knew. Eternity was right there, and I had no idea what was next. But what I did know was this: we will all one day stand there together.
After the shock of realising that could have been the end, and that I had more life to live, a new longing grew in me. I wanted to feel the 4pm light of day, to stand beneath the endless sky, to bend low over a flower and marvel at its intricacies. Both pulled me out of myself and into what my recovering body and mind most needed — WONDER.”
Why outside
“I have always loved being outside. Growing up on a dairy farm with five kids in a one-bedroom house, spending most of our time outside was unavoidable. Later, I found that, though it started as a necessity, being outdoors became the very thing I needed most. Now it has become my balm — my poetry, my music, and one of my greatest sources of inspiration.
Natura is my way of offering that balm to you: an invitation into presence, into the complexity of being alive.”
The paintings
“I paint because it is what I have to offer and how I share what I have found. I let these sacred feelings fall into pigment and earth and I lay them before you.
If you look closely you’ll see the energetic marks that run through every canvas. They remind me that nothing is still — that we are, as is everything, always becoming. Nature teaches me this again and again: I am not more, I am not less, I am part.”
A Rose
Oil on canvas, 61 x 76 cm (24 x 30 in)
read poem
HEALING
Poem by Anna McGahan
I feel the shift
And my body arches to meet it
Like a whisper in a dream
Or a wave from a distance
A song on the radio
You forgot you knew every
Word to:
Light, come close
And show me who I am.
Summer's Last Light
Oil on canvas, 76.2 x 101.6 cm (30 x 40 in)
read poem
GIRLHOOD
Poem by Anna McGahan
Here is the secret
They forgot to tell you:
Twelve-year-old girls
Are the answer
To every question
This earth asks of itself
And when they dare
To wonder if
Your wisdom
Might be dangerous
You tell them
Yes
You stand up
(Smoke rises
And so do we)
And you tell them
If they touch the flame
You will let them burn
And you tell them
Without lowering
Your chin
Even a candle
Could set the
Whole forest
On fire.
Night Swim
Oil on canvas, 61 x 76 cm (24 x 30 in)
read poem
IMPENDING HOPE
Poem by Anna McGahan
The moon is waning
The sun is going down
The water is rising
The ice is pooling
At our feet as
Glaciers run to catch
Up to the greed of
Frantic hours
My whole world
– Vast and weathered –
Is slowly, inarguably
Dying
And yet I wake
To the birds like
I am reborn every dawn
Still secretly wondering
What happens
Next.
Ochre Dance
Oil on canvas, 76 x 76 cm (30 x 30 in)
read poem
SPRITES
Poem by Anna McGahan
At the sound of us
Jumping in, making
Music underwater
My ears my eyes my lungs
Filled up with the night sky
You glowing beside me
In this loud little silence
I pick out the constellations
I recognised
Held the stars
In my hands
Threw them at
The passing cars
And possums
Chaos to cosmos
Scattering back onto
Our bodies
When they come out
To look for us
Later, when they
Eventually
Realise we are gone
All they will find
By the water
On the surface
And within
Will be tiny
Freckled
Craters
Where the
Wishes
Would have
Been.
Orchestra
Oil on canvas, 61 x 91.4 cm (24 x 36 in)
read poem
WHAT THE WATER TOOK FROM ME
Poem by Anna McGahan
Nothing, really
But the fear of feeling small
The fear of floating forever
The fear of being crushed
And tumbled into sea glass
The words embedded in my back
The dirt from the fall
The sting from the burn
The memories of melting
The sand in my eyes
The sound of solitude
The weight of grief
The thirst of want
The bitter mantle, ripped
The shredded shoes
The painted mask
The dry blood
Upon my hands
The shame
Of not knowing
Whether it would
Allow me to sink
Or swim
The water
Took it all
And then some more
The water was hungry
The water dissolved
Whatever I willingly
Gave to its keeping
And when I
Returned to the
Hurt of the
Hardened shore
I was washed
I was waves
I was salt
I was whole.
Homecoming
Oil on canvas, 121.9 x 182.9 cm (48 x 72 in)
read poem
THE INHERITANCE
Poem by Anna McGahan
My five-year-old
Wants to know
Where I will go
When I die
I must not answer
From the void of doubt
But the summit
Of my longing
Here, and there
Everywhere
I’ll linger
In everything
If I cannot promise
Immortality in my arms
I must offer an eternity he
Can call to, leave
Myself behind in the
Limitless things
I know will rise
To meet him
He says he wants to
Come with me
When I die, and
I say
No
But:
Will we be bones or ghosts
Or babies or angels – will
There be clothes and hugs
And what about the
Dinosaurs, will they bite
He asks these questions
In the city nights, stuck
In traffic or the bedtime routine
A caged bird, stretching
Its wild-written wings, and
When we crawl out of
The concrete
To fly free
Over the altar of
Forest and fresh water
I no longer fear
My own absence
I will never
Be separate from
This sky, this system
And neither will he
Here
My child asks me
How god made trees
And I stand tall
Against the landscape
I leave in his
Keeping
And say
Like this.
Phillipson
Oil on canvas, 91.4 x 121.9 cm (36 x 48 in)
read poem
FATHER’S DAY
Poem by Anna McGahan
His person has
Grown wild without
His presence
There are
Forests forming in
The city of his memory
Rivers of rewritten
Conversations
Through his folded
Clothes, so now
We don’t know
What sharp gold
Or sleeping grenade
We might step on in
This early mourning
We do not know
What was burned
Or merely buried
So we do not weed
The overgrowth
In this bravely
Abandoned
Building
And we
Do not know
What is left
Behind
When someone
Leaves for good.
Wildflowers
Oil on canvas, 61 x 76 cm (24 x 30 in)
read poem
THE DECISION
Poem by Anna McGahan
My animal bones know
My tree chest clears its branches
With a whisper of your name
The birds fly up, out
Do you hear wings, do you see my grief?
My bare feet apologise
To this place we imagined
We could keep
My body walks
While my heart looks back
Let us leave slowly
While it might still be
Remembered in this
Forgiving kind of light:
A holy field, a daydream
Of our love no night
can truly touch
I knew you here
In the space between
Yes and no
Between
Living and dying
And I will not forget.
Words and music
“To Anna, whose poetry gave voice to the work, and to Brett, whose music gave it breath — Natura is more because of your work. You carried Natura further than I could have on my own. I am deeply grateful.”
The Natura book
“This book holds the record of that vision. It is a companion to the art but also a work of its own. May it invite you, wherever you are, into the same stillness and wonder that shaped its making.”
What remains
“In this shrinking world, I fear we are losing our capacity to play, to laugh, to be slow, and to remain open. Yet I believe the wide sky is a key — one that unlocks in us the ability to stay awake, light, and alive when we revel in the beauty of standing under it and looking up.
Natura is a love letter to life.”
Credits
| Role | Name |
|---|---|
| Artist | Jessica Le Clerc |
| Poetry | Anna McGahan |
| Original score | Brett Anthony Shaw |
| Creative Director | Bethany McKay |
| Event photography and film | Nick Hargans |
| Photography of artwork | Christine Hall and Jon Lincoln |
| Reference photography | Amy Hemmings, Lumea Photo |
| Venue | Queensland Multicultural Centre, Brisbane |
For curatorial, exhibition and creative collaboration enquiries, please get in touch.