04/09/2026
I was fortunate enough to attend the opening of Margaret Preston at the Ian Potter Centre last night. It’s an extraordinary collection of her work, gathered from state galleries and private collections. Well worth a visit if you can.
I’ve been curious about her work since I was a child. My late mother quietly admired her prints when we’d visit the National Gallery in Canberra, and I feel as though some of that appreciation was passed down to me without anyone ever announcing it.
There’s another layer altogether in remembering that Margaret Preston was born into an Australia where women did not yet have the vote, and considering the determination it must have taken to forge such a distinctive life and career as an artist.
Looking at the work last night, I couldn’t help but think about the strange ways influence travels. I’ve somehow grown up to become a printmaker myself, repeatedly drawn to native flowers and plants as subject matter in their own right.
And here was Margaret Preston, exploring so much of that nearly 100 years ago.
There’s something quite moving about recognising a creative thread that began long before you understood you were following it.
Sharing a few photos of some of my favourites works from the exhibition. xx
