Adrift

There is something wonderfully unnecessary about a boat full of pelicans.

In Adrift, an old wooden boat sits quietly on cool, calm water, crowded with pelicans who appear completely content to rest, drift and do absolutely nothing in particular. Their large forms and relaxed poses fill the boat, while a lone seagull has found a particularly convenient perch on the back of one of them.

The water is painted in tranquil blues, aqua and greens, with dark reflections gathering in the foreground. Against the simplicity of the background, the weathered boat and the birds become the focus — an uncomplicated scene of stillness and companionship.

Of course, the pelicans don't need the boat. They are perfectly capable of floating wherever they please. Perhaps that is exactly the point. There is a certain Australian humour in seeing these magnificent, self-sufficient birds gathered together in an old boat as though they have somewhere important to be — or perhaps they have simply decided that today is a good day to drift.

The painting is ultimately about slowing down. No urgency, no destination, no great adventure — just birds resting on water, enjoying each other's company and letting the world drift by. The sides are painted, it's varnished and ready to hang with wire across the back.