In My Golden Age Of Gratitude

• Title: In My Golden Age of Gratitude
• Artist: Dixie
• Year: 2025
• Medium: Mixed media on denim

Today I feel like I’m in the golden age of my life. My four-poster princess bed is a dream I’ve had forever. It’s beautiful, and it’s mine. But the path here was anything but easy.

I was once homeless with my children. I swore it would never happen again. And it didn’t. My children had stability, same school, two homes and that mattered. I broke a cycle. I see them now, making homes that feel safe. I like to think I passed that on.

I never had that growing up. No favourite pillow, no cosy blanket. Just movement from relatives to hostels to orphanages. I was a collector with nothing to collect. That kind of absence stays with you.

As a child, I was caught up in the government assimilation program. I was taken from my family and placed in institutional care, moved through different systems that were designed to erase who I was. They gave me clothes and rules but no warmth, no culture, no love. I learnt how to hide parts of myself just to survive. That experience shaped me. It also stole from me, connection, identity, safety.

One of my happiest memories is of staying with my grandmother near a train station. I still love hearing trains at night, it comforts me. In my work with women over the years, I’ve seen how homelessness crushes dignity. Children clinging to their mums, unsure of the next step. That kind of uncertainty leaves deep scars.

Even now, I can’t sit on a floor. It reminds me of cold nights spent sleeping wherever we could, someone’s floor, someone’s couch. And for women fleeing violence, that danger never ends. We need safe places to rest, to heal, to just be.

Being part of the UNSEEN project has helped me express this. My artwork is about my mind, crowded with memories, thoughts, and feelings, and on top sits a house with a gift box. Because having a home is a gift. Every day I walk down my stairs, lock my door, and breathe. That’s dignity.

I used denim in my artwork because it’s strong, worn, and adaptable, just like me. Denim is something that lasts. It’s stitched together from experience, like our lives are. It holds the history of wear, just as I carry the history of my journey.

When my grandchildren visit, they know this space is theirs too. I collect dolls and tell them, “If you’re not going to look after her, don’t take her out.” They laugh, but they understand. Just like I felt welcome at Nan’s, even if the bed wasn’t mine.

That’s what home is: love, safety, and the freedom to just be. I never forget where I came from. But I’m building something better…for the daughters still to come.’

– Dixie