Conceptual projects
Note to Self
Medium: ceramic sculptures on found mirror
75cm x 65 cm
Aprill Enright
15 June, 2026
We speak to ourselves in passing—often harshly and carelessly. Notes to Self is an invitation to reconsider the inner monologue.
This work began as a personal exercise in reframing: rewriting the quiet, corrosive thoughts I had been cycling around on. The post-it notes were a tool to reshape my beliefs. This artwork gave me a chance to ask, what would it mean to make those reframes permanent? What if they weren’t temporary affirmations but permanent truths?
Each ceramic post-it note in this work carries a reworded belief. They are sculpted by hand, then adhered to a mirror where the viewer’s own reflection becomes part of the piece. Could this be your voice too?
No Photographs Allowed
Medium: photograph and acrylics on paper
30.5cm x 42cm
Aprill Enright
24 October, 2025
This work explores what it means to step off the grid—beyond what can be recorded or accurately reproduced. During a walk through the sacred site of Kata Tjuṯa’s Valley of the Winds, photography of the rock formations was forbidden. That restriction heightened my awareness; memory became my only map. The concertina book pairs my exterior photograph of Kata Tjuṯa with hand painting, and gel prints of the interior, recalling impressions, reflecting on sanctity, memory, and what we may lose sight of altogether if the camera roll doesn’t stay closed.
No Photographs Allowed is a hand-constructed pop-up book developed in response to my visit to Kata Tjuta. The work reflects on reverence, limitation, and embodied memory, using scale, unfolding form, and physical interaction to explore how certain experiences resist documentation and must instead be held internally.
This work explores what it means to step off the grid—beyond what can be recorded, archived, or accurately reproduced. While walking through the Valley of the Winds, photography of the rock formations was prohibited. Rather than feeling restrictive, this rule sharpened my attention. Without the option to document, I became acutely aware of my body in space: the heat, the wind, the shifting light, the weight of the forms around me. Memory became my only map.
The concertina book structure mirrors this experience of movement and revelation. An exterior photograph of Kata Tjuta sits alongside interior hand painting and gel prints that draw from recollection rather than reference. These interior surfaces are not literal translations of what I saw, but impressions—partial, layered, and subjective. The pop-up elements interrupt the page, asking the viewer to slow down, handle the work carefully, and experience it sequentially rather than all at once.
By pairing an allowable image with remembered interiors, the work questions our reliance on images to validate experience. No Photographs Allowed considers sanctity, attention, and what may be lost when moments are filtered too quickly through a lens—suggesting that some places, and some experiences, ask to be remembered rather than captured.
A finished artist book that sits at the intersection of fine art, bookmaking, and conceptual photograph, the work was selected for exhibition at Firestation Print Studio and prompted intrigue and surprise.