This artwork hangs like a tapestry of resilience — torn, cut, and stitched back together, much like the lives of countless women. The fragmented figures represents the universal story of being pulled in countless directions, stretched by expectations, yet finding strength in every frayed seam.
In 1838, sisters Jemima Neily, aged just 16, and Mary Neily, aged 18, stood together in The Oil Bailey, convicted of pickpocketing and sentenced to transportation. Together they boarded the Nautilus, bound for Van Diemen’s Land alongside 130 other female convicts.
It's easy to read their names in a convict register and move on. But behind those few lines were two teenage sisters leaving everything they had ever known.
What did they say to each other as the shoreline disappeared? Did they find comfort simply knowing they weren't facing the journey alone? Those are the parts of history the records rarely tell us.
So far, I have found only fragments of their story. If they disappeared into history after arriving in Australia, they were not alone. Thousands of female convicts left behind little more than a handful of official records.
Through my paintings and historical research, I hope to give women like Jemima and Mary something the archives often cannot—a chance to be remembered.
Acrylic, charcoal, sewing on canvas
110 × 198cm
Note: this artwork will arrive in a tube with all the necessary pieces for hanging.
This artwork hangs like a tapestry of resilience — torn, cut, and stitched back together, much like the lives of countless women. The fragmented figures represents the universal story of being pulled in countless directions, stretched by expectations, yet finding strength in every frayed seam.
In 1838, sisters Jemima Neily, aged just 16, and Mary Neily, aged 18, stood together in The Oil Bailey, convicted of pickpocketing and sentenced to transportation. Together they boarded the Nautilus, bound for Van Diemen’s Land alongside 130 other female convicts.
It's easy to read their names in a convict register and move on. But behind those few lines were two teenage sisters leaving everything they had ever known.
What did they say to each other as the shoreline disappeared? Did they find comfort simply knowing they weren't facing the journey alone? Those are the parts of history the records rarely tell us.
So far, I have found only fragments of their story. If they disappeared into history after arriving in Australia, they were not alone. Thousands of female convicts left behind little more than a handful of official records.
Through my paintings and historical research, I hope to give women like Jemima and Mary something the archives often cannot—a chance to be remembered.
Acrylic, charcoal, sewing on canvas
110 × 198cm
Note: this artwork will arrive in a tube with all the necessary pieces for hanging.