Artist Biography
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“When her pain is fresh and new, let her have it. Don't try to take it away. Forgive yourself for not having that power. Grief and pain are like joy and peace; they are not things we should try to snatch from each other. They're sacred. they are part of each person's journey. All we can do is offer relief from this fear: I am all alone. That's the one fear you can alleviate.”
Glennon Doyle, Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed

“Be Happy, Sweetheart”


My name is Tina. I am an artist, an explorer, a gardener, a storyteller, and a survivor. But most of all, I am simply… me.


I have always been creative—not just sculpting in clay, but painting, photography, writing, and even a little pyrography. Art runs in my blood. My mother was a gifted oil painter, and my father a graphic artist and signwriter. As a child, I would sit in quiet awe, watching them work, resisting the urge (not always successfully) to dip my tiny fingers into my mother’s oil paints or test my father’s precise ink pens. From an early age, I learned to respect the tools of creation, but more importantly, I learned the power of art itself—its ability to express, to heal, and to transform.


For me, art is not just a passion—it is a sanctuary. It is where time disappears, where emotions take shape, where midnight passes unnoticed as I lose myself in the rhythm of creativity. Art has carried me through my darkest days, grounding me when the world felt unbearable.


My journey as an artist deepened in the years following profound loss—losing my mother to cancer, the abrupt and heartbreaking end of my 10-year relationship, and the devastation of childlessness. My world crumbled. I lost my home, my animals, my sense of self. I was alone for the first time, forced to ask: Who am I now? What do I love? What is my calling?


In the hours before my mum passed, she found the strength to hold my hand and whisper her final words: “Be Happy, Sweetheart.” Those words echo in my heart every day, guiding me forward.


But healing has not been a straight path. Along the way, I have had to navigate the complex terrain of CPTSD, depression, and social anxiety. Trauma left scars that at times felt impossible to overcome. Sleepless nights, intrusive thoughts, and deep exhaustion became my daily battles. There were days when simply existing felt like too much. When the weight of it all—past and present—pressed down, suffocating.


And yet, somewhere within that darkness, I found resilience. I found healing in nature, in long walks through wild landscapes, in feeling the earth beneath my feet. I found peace in the quiet hum of crickets at night and the way morning light filters through the trees. And I found renewal in creation—in taking something raw and shaping it into something beautiful.


Now, I live in a tiny camper, embracing a life of simplicity, creativity, and healing. My little home may be small, but it is mine. It is a space where I can breathe, create, and rediscover myself. I share this journey with my beloved rainbow lorikeet, Tiki, who has been by my side through it all—a reminder that love, in its purest form, is found in the smallest, most unexpected places.


Nature is my refuge. I am happiest barefoot in the garden, wandering wild landscapes, or sitting beneath the stars. I take road trips with no destination, drawn to the solitude of the ocean, the desert, and the mountains. These sacred places remind me that even in barren lands, life finds a way to bloom.


Grief, trauma, and loss shape us, but they do not define us. I have learned that healing is not about erasing pain but about carrying it with grace, finding beauty amid the brokenness.


Creating my jewelry is my way of honoring that journey—transforming raw materials into something meaningful, just as I have rebuilt myself, piece by piece. My art is infused with the wisdom of the land, the stories of survival, and the quiet resilience of the human spirit.


This is why every piece I create is more than jewelry. It is a talisman, a reminder that we can endure, we can heal, and we can find joy again.


I am spirit. I am soul. I am earth.

​"Traveler, there are no paths. Paths are made by walking." - Australian Aboriginal saying

People Who Have Inspired Me


My mother, Gloria Margaret, passed away on July 15th, 2006. She was an artist, a writer, a traveler, and a dreamer. Life wasn’t easy for her; she faced many hardships and devastating heartbreaks throughout her childhood and into adulthood. To the world, she seemed strong, independent, and resilient—but I now understand that beneath that strength, she was carrying so much. She hid her tears to be strong for me, and I miss her deeply every day.


My father, Ray, was a passionate artist, photographer, graphic designer, and sign-writer. He lived simply, growing his own food, and dedicating himself to self-sufficiency. His deep respect for the land and its health has always inspired me. His way of life reminds me to simplify and embrace abundance in all its forms.


My two closest friends, Sue and Don, have also been great sources of inspiration. I have known Sue since I was a child, and together, she and Don built a beautiful handmade straw-bale home infused with love and energy. They both taught me so much about sustainability, living in harmony with the environment, and how to embrace a simpler, more meaningful life. Don was a master at crafting Tipis, and Sue created her own drums. Their dedication to the land and their shared passion for sustainability sparked something deep within me.


Tragically, Sue and Don were killed in a car accident at the end of 2016. Their loss left a hole in my heart, but their teachings and the love they shared continue to guide me every day.

​“One of the worst griefs people feel is the longing for elders in their lives. How many times do we find ourselves in conflict, fear, or despair and wish we could receive guidance from someone who knows better? There is no shortage of older people in our communities, but what differentiates an elder from an older is not just age, but the wisdom they carry and the position they hold in their community. Among other qualities, an elder is someone who is committed to staying put, who has lived into the competencies of belonging and made an invitation of their lives to the young ones growing up around them.
Elder wisdom comes not from the accumulation of knowledge, but from reflecting on life; instead of living in a state of unworthiness and regret, we can grieve and forgive the past, find the redemption in our story, and recognize how it fits into our ancestral mythos. This work becomes our gift to the future.”
Excerpt From Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home by Toko-pa Turner

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