Part One – Embracing Change by Melony Kara Smirniotis

There are seasons in life when, from the outside, everything appears to be moving in the right direction.

By the end of 2025, Gallery 11:11 was approaching its seventh year. We'd shared remarkable exhibitions, represented extraordinary artists, and exhibited at the Brisbane, Melbourne and Sydney Affordable Art Fairs. At the same time, my own practice was evolving with the beginnings of what would become my Origins Series—a body of work that allowed me to paint more freely, exploring ideas before they evolved into my more tactile Sculptural Series.

Life was full, rewarding and creative. I wasn't unhappy, and I certainly wasn't looking to escape. Yet beneath the surface, I sensed something I couldn't quite explain. I felt as though I was standing on the edge of something new, even if I had no idea what that might be.

Looking back, I realise I'd become very good at adapting. Opening Gallery 11:11 only a few months before COVID meant that many of the plans I'd carefully made had to be reimagined. Like so many small business owners, I learned to pivot, adjust and keep moving forward. It was rewarding, but it was also exhausting. Somewhere along the way, I realised I'd become so focused on navigating change that I'd stopped intentionally seeking it.

I remember putting a simple reminder in my phone that appeared every day:

Embrace Change.

At the time, I thought it was just a gentle nudge to myself. Looking back now, I realise it was preparing me for something much bigger than I could have imagined.

I've often reflected on where my curiosity began. As a child, my grandfather would take me walking through the bush. He never hurried me or discouraged me from wandering a little off the track to examine the texture of bark, the iridescence on the back of a beetle, the patterns left by water, or the way sunlight could transform an ordinary surface into something extraordinary. He gave me permission to notice, and those walks quietly shaped the way I see the world today. Long before I ever picked up a paintbrush, I was learning to pay attention.

Perhaps that's why, when a dear friend called to tell me about a fundraising expedition called Paddle for the Planet, something stirred.

My first thought was practical.

"I don't kayak."

My second thought was that I'd really like to support her.

She is one of those rare people whose passion is contagious. She doesn't simply talk about climate action—she lives it. She's generous, humble, deeply committed, and someone who has always encouraged me to level up simply through the way she lives her life.

Then came my third thought.

"This is probably going to clash with the Brisbane Fair."

When I opened my calendar, it was every bit as chaotic as I'd expected. Somehow, though, it was possible. Barely. I remember laughing to myself and thinking, "Well… this is either a really good idea or a terrible one."

Part of me felt the familiar dread of overcommitting. Another part of me was genuinely curious. Over the years, I've noticed something about myself. If something really scares me, instead of immediately walking away, I start wondering whether I can make it achievable. More often than not, those experiences become the ones that shape me the most.

There was another reason I found it difficult to say no…

In 2023, I'd fallen completely in love with the Great Barrier Reef. Ever since returning home, I'd wondered when—or if—I might have the opportunity to experience it again. I was fascinated not only by its extraordinary beauty, but also by the scientists and volunteers dedicating themselves to its restoration. Their hope, commitment and stewardship left a lasting impression on me, and I couldn't help but feel drawn back.

As I sat looking at my calendar, all of those threads seemed to come together.

Supporting a friend.

Challenging myself.

Returning to the reef.

Stepping outside my comfort zone.

Although I couldn't have explained it at the time, there was an intuitive part of me that simply knew saying yes was the right thing to do.

I wasn't ready.

At least, I didn't think I was.

But I've since realised that perhaps being ready isn't actually the point. Sometimes life simply asks us to trust our intuition, take the first step, and allow the rest to unfold.

Looking back now, I don't think I was simply saying yes to a kayaking expedition.

I was saying yes to change.

To be continued...

This is the first in a three-part reflection on my Paddle for the Planet journey.