A snowy owl flew into this painting.

It had flown a long way from its northern habitats, so I let it in to the forest I was painting at the time. And what I liked about this arrival was the symbolic shape-shifting going on with owls and their mysterious intelligence, real or imagined. Certainly, she, because she felt like a she, brought an eloquence to the piece, I thought. A lot of death and wisdom are wrapped up in this owl, which nudges us in some way, but she signals change, and perhaps that is right on the money, to coin an old phrase, at this point in time. All I know is that when I saw one of her relatives in England, I was a little in awe and that sighting stayed with me.

Then, I learnt about psychopomps.

My, what a word. Owls are psychopomps in North American traditions, sending the living to an afterlife. And there it is. Taking owls seriously is a fine thing to do. And so, might I add, is being present at my exhibition coming up on 7-10 October at Earlyworks in South Fremantle.