There's no paint, only plants. No canvas, only soil. No pencils or brushes, only sunshine and greenery. But the ‘optical erotica' that inspired Brett Whiteley at the foot of his Lavender Bay home has been reborn. For years, this land was tangled, overgrown and strewn with rubbish, a dead-end dump for surplus trains and derelict humanity. But when Brett died in 1992, his widow Wendy channelled her grief into creating a place of enchantment: natives, exotics, herbs and towering fig trees run along winding gully paths while parrots, gulls, kookaburras, owls and wagtails chatter amidst the flowers and berries. Tucked away in the shadow of office towers, it is both public land and private paen to love, loss and renewal.