Oh, hi there! I’m Nawsheen, the founder and owner of Whistle & Page. Established in 2014, I created this space to capture snippets of my squirrelly mind. You will often hear me say “…all the things…”. It has become a world of its own that allows me to be creative, get my hands dirty and build a supportive community filled with like-minded people.

I explore my passion for pottery, plants, painting and photography in this space –the four P’s. While professionally, I am an experienced Director of Communications and a trained Financial Planner. which has enabled me to provide individuals and businesses with meaningful content that is both beautiful and engaging; I am now focusing on slow living. This shift came about in the winter of 2019 when I realised that the rat race of a fast-paced life was no longer sustainable or bearable, and therefore, something had to change. Together with my husband, I took the plunge and relocated 300 km from then semi-rural Camden, NSW, to full-on rural NSW, in the Yass Valley region. I now live my life wholeheartedly, with intent and meaning, making it purposeful, and I am so thankful that Whistle & Page allows all of that. I hope you find the beauty in simplicity while you visit here and get cosy. Let me invite you to the confessions of a homebody artist.

My inspiration has always been the beautiful nature that surrounds me, regardless of what I’m creating. In terms of pottery, which is my primary focus and my Ikigai (a reason for being), I make functional, ethical, and low-impact pottery in small batches. I work out of a small home studio (aka half a Colorbond® Paperbark® shed), and it is truly my happy place. Every piece of pottery is one-of-a-kind that was made and glazed by my own two hands. I follow the principle of Wabi-Sabi, where we are encouraged to find beauty in imperfection and accept the more natural cycle of life. The concept reminds us that everything, including us and life itself, is impermanent, incomplete, and imperfect. Perfection, then, is impossible, and impermanence is the only way.

When it comes to plants, I build lovely little self-managing ecosystems within a closed glass vessel known as a terrarium. In my paintings, I mainly like to use watercolour, but I am experimenting with digital forms. My subjects are predominantly what’s growing in my garden or the changing seasons. I am very drawn to the changing seasons and how it affects our day-to-day lives. So, these fleeting but precious moments are captured in my photography, too.

Regardless of what I’m making, know that every one of my creations has a piece of my soul embedded in it, and I sincerely hope they bring you as much joy as they have brought me making them for you.

Now for a bit of background: As I mentioned, I live in an old country town on the outskirts of regional New South Wales, near the nation’s capital — on Ngunnawal and Ngambri Country. To me, it’s serenity – she gets me. But before I called Australia home, my heart belonged to another, Bangladesh. I took my first breath across the sea, about ten thousand kilometres away and almost four decades ago in a concrete jungle. This tiny, fertile country in southern Asia is surrounded by the largest river deltas and cradled by magnificent mangroves, which I was utterly oblivious to until I was about six when we visited our hometown in the countryside of Podamdi. I hold my most profound connection with my culture in that village. I always recall the same memory...

I am running past the courtyard of our family home, where the pigeons are starting to coo, and my dadu (paternal grandmother) is making pitha (winter sweets) with some help on an open fire. I make my way through the sugarcane fields, a forest full of mango and jackfruit trees scattered with patches of palm and bamboo. Suddenly, I stopped; I found myself in a clearing with a cluster of little clay and straw huts, where all the local farmers lived in harmony.

The villagers invited us to share tea. It’s served in the most elegant brass tea set with desserts representing a pastel rainbow, each a different colour. It’s monsoon season, and the rain starts to pour, so we take shelter in one of the larger huts. I look around; it’s unlike any other house I’ve ever been to—no doors or windows, just large openings. On the floor, there are beautifully laid hand-stitched nakshi kantha (traditional tapestries and blankets) with scenes of old tales for future generations. There was so much beauty in the simplicity of the village that you couldn’t help but get cosy.

I sit by the large window opening, clasping my hot tea with both hands. A little old lady greets me with a lovely little blanket, which she places on my bare knees. I smile and thank her. The gorgeous pattern set in red and black stitches against the white cotton reminded me of the blanket my nanu (maternal grandmother) made, sitting pretty on mum’s bed back home.

I look out the window to watch the rain. The wood in the communal outdoor stove has begun to smoke. Through it, across the courtyard, I see her. She was sitting entirely still by the window of a smaller hut while her long, ebony hair danced with the breeze.

With a similar blanket to keep her cosy, she has a half-read book in one hand and a clay teacup in the other. As the raindrops kiss her tanned skin, it glistens like tiny specks of diamonds. She, the nameless girl, was the perfect vision of seft-care and joy.

This sweet memory is forever locked in time and eventually became the foundation of Whistle & Page.

All my handcrafted pieces are made with the charming Podamdi in mind. Mainly using neutral tones and natural materials, I wanted to capture the true meaning of comfort and cosiness.

Welcome! I hope you enjoy your visit and find something extraordinary that fills your heart with delight.