artworks
A curated collection of Mrs.Cooper paintings
Discover the latest available pieces from Mrs Cooper collection.
All works are hand-painted and sold as originals.
Coming soon…
Discover the latest available pieces from Mrs Cooper collection.
All works are hand-painted and sold as originals.
Coming soon…
In 1997, my cousin introduced me to the magical film The Secret Garden, where two cousins discovered that their mothers were twins who had lived separate lives and distant relationships. Yet together they shared something in common.
Their bedrooms were architecturally the same, with matching accessories. They even had the same twin ivory elephants. Still, the reason for their separation remained unknown. One twin lived in the secret garden, while the other lived among the hot sands of India.
Today, my own twin and I have gone our separate ways, but we know where to find each other. Together we grew our own secret garden, dressing and dancing to Indian music.
The love between twins is unlike any other. It can be both the best and the most challenging relationship, where situations test you, yet love always prevails.
In the 1980s, we had home telephones. No mobiles, no laptops, no tablets. All we had was paper and a phone call after school, usually to my best friend.
I would write in my journal. I wrote letters to my sister, who wasn’t home for many years, and I would wait for her letters to arrive in the mailbox. Every month, I’d ask my mother, “Did we get a letter today?” Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
Then I’d return to my journal, writing and crying tears onto the page, until finally, my letter arrived.
This artwork explores themes of trauma, assault, and recovery.
This artwork is inspired by a tragedy that took place on 7 October 2016. It tells the story of a woman who had a home, a family, and a job. She found what she thought was true love, but during her engagement she discovered he had been unfaithful.
Overcome with anger and confusion, she ran. Lost, hurt, and unsure of what to do, she sought what she believed was a place of safety while in a state of intoxication. She was wrong more than ever. She was sexually attacked until dawn.
She battled with suicidal thoughts but ultimately chose to fight back. Through time and healing, she reclaimed her strength and refused to let her past define her, deciding the victim life would not lead her.
One morning, sitting at a train station, she looked up to see a crowd of crows above her. She becomes very fond in them and began to believe they were carrying a message just for her. Now, every day, she looks right, left, and forward, a reminder to keep moving on with strength and purpose.
In the year 1994, Jameela and Yasmeen were taken on an adventure to be introduced to the wildlife of equine beauty. I was always in search of a black beauty horse, while Yasmeen was fond of the white.
My father said he wanted a “blue beauty.” I told him they didn’t exist, but he said he would paint one.
When you travel through the countryside of Australia, the farmlands and the bush, horses are often part of the picturesque view. But to witness the sheer beauty of a galloping black horse is a majestic experience. They make you wonder what stories their lives could tell.
My father promised a horse each for Yasmeen and me when we turned twelve. On the morning of my impatient birthday, I waited by the front window, peeking through the curtains. I saw only my dad’s van arrive. I asked him where my horse was, and he said, “Jameela, it ran away.” Yasmeen and I were upset, so we asked Mum if we could go look for them. She said no.
Later that night, while everyone was asleep, we took Mum’s house keys and unlocked the back door. We jumped over the fence and left. I don’t remember how long we walked for, but it was sunrise by the time we stopped. We reached a stable farm filled with horses, visible from the highway, but we knew our horses weren’t there.
Years passed, and now we’re adults. Yasmeen trained to work with horses, learning how to provide care, attend races, and work alongside some of the best trainers. As for me, I photograph them, and one day, I came across the mysterious, true black horse. Her name is Lara.
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