Sands of Time. Oil on paper. 12 by 16.5 inches.

My first completed painting in Melbourne is a triumph over adversity. Since we have moved to a tiny townhouse, I have to paint in my garage. It is very dusty, the light is poor, it is too hot or too cold, there is a car in the middle of it and it is also where I wash and dry the clothes.

More difficult than any of these factors is the shortage of time in my new home. I am running, running, running against the clock all day and at night, when I put my head down on to the pillow, it surges with ideas, plans, schedules, to-do lists and fears, so that sleep comes reluctantly.

When I was young, time and life had a different texture. Eating a banana or an ice-cream seemed to stretch out for hours. Walking to the shops was an event. Reading in my room was an experience so intense that it seemed to be outside of time. Now time runs faster and faster, so that my entire existence feels like a second or a minute.

Shortage of time, particularly towards the end of my painting session, fills me with an almost crippling sensation of panic and terror. I want more time, time that I cannot have. All that my painting needs to say, to create beauty, and peace, and a connection with spirits, and hope, even against hope, needs to be done with almost brutal rapidity.

This painting is a message to myself: the time I have is enough to accomplish what I need to accomplish.