
PERIWINKLE WALK THE BAY OF FIRES
As a kid, I wandered the beaches around Binalong Bay hunting periwinkle shells. My pockets rattled with them. Every tiny spiral felt like treasure. I imagined they were the currency of long-dead pirates, worth more than gold. The Bay of Fires seemed endless then. Orange lichen burned across the rocks and the sea rolled in with its usual mix of beauty and menace.
Years later, I came back.
Without meaning to, I slipped straight into the old treasure hunt. Trochus shells. Turban shells. Strange little creatures tucked between the rocks and tidal pools. Before long, I was crouched in the sand, studying the details, exactly as I had as a child.
Towards evening, catamarans drifted across the bay towards a horizonless sunset. The air was dead still. Not a breath of wind. Clouds gathered in impossible shades of gold, pink and bruised purple while sea and sky dissolved into one another.
Standing there with a shell in my hand, forty years seemed to collapse into a single tide.
For all the noise we make about moving forward, much of life is spent returning to the things that first taught us how to look.
Most places shrink when you return to them.
The Bay of Fires doesn't.
Oil on stretched canvas / 100cm x 76cm / framed in Tasmanian Oak and ready to hang
* This painting is still drying and will not be ready to ship until late August 2026.
"Bridie's paintings invoke the beauty and intrigue of the landscape. She captures the snow, catches the light and conveys the mood of the sea".
Well worth the wait, I’m over the moon!! Your art and vision will bring much joy to many!!! Thank you Bridie!
I'm happy. I cannot find the words to tell how much I'm happy. Be sure I'll take care of it.
"Where dreams are made.... she's a stunner!"
"Thank you, thank you, it came perfect, love it"
Bridie O'Brien
Artist
Bridie O'Brien. Beobe. Short for B.O.B.
I was born in Young, NSW. Sheep and wheat country. Dust storms. Eldest of six in a split and patched family. An upbringing brimming with hard lessons, adventure and self-reliance.
I went to Sydney on a music scholarship and swapped paddocks for stages.
I have pulled cables through dark venues at 3 am. Called shows from the wings. Directed live television broadcasts. Managed teams across national roadshows. Travelled solo abroad extensively. Made a record on a remote Caribbean island.
I ride motorcycles and grow my own vegetables. I've played guitar at festivals here and overseas and written and released three studio albums. Music was never a hobby. It was oxygen. It carried me across continents and, in the end, led me back to the visual.
Art kept circling patiently. In 2020, when the stages went dark, I stopped pretending and chose painting fully.
Now I work in thick oil, cut in with a palette knife. I paint the places that have carved themselves into me. Headlands. Back roads. Snow country. Beaches that taste of salt. I am not chasing photographs. I am chasing the pulse beneath them.
Every landscape is lived and felt first. I stand in it. I feel the temperature shift. I notice the light, the shade. Then I paint it by hand. One of a kind. Pure oil. Clear vision.
Learn more about Bridie in The Beobe Story section.