Along Tasmania’s coastlines, sea urchins have multiplied beyond balance, devouring kelp forests and leaving the seafloor hollow. I gather their spines from these barren reefs and grind them into pigment, folding the colour into a binder that becomes ‘When the Sea Urchin Spawns’.

This work does not seek to correct or to judge, but to listen, to let the pigment speak of what remains. The colour, once protective, now stains the surface like memory: a residue of abundance turned to absence. ‘When the Sea Urchin Spawns’ is a quiet act of collaboration and mourning, where the wound of an ecosystem becomes the medium of its own retelling, its own landscape.