Artists at home

‘Stories are medicine. They have such power; they do not require that we do, be, act anything – we need only to listen. The remedies for repair or reclamation of any lost psychic drive are contained in stories.’ Clarissa Pinkola Estés

When I started writing and taking photographs for my book, I was moved by a strong desire to bring together female artists who are shaping the art scene in Australia, and, on a personal level, who inspire in me a sense of wonder. Travelling around the country to visit each artist, I embarked on a quest to reveal the woman behind the art. Despite their distinct experiences, work and sources of inspiration, the artists are united in their strength, vulnerability and uncompromising artistic vision.

The artists’ portraits are a collaboration between the artist and myself; I am only adding my vision to theirs. As a collective, they bounce off one another and become the central part of a bigger story. Photographing the artists in their creative spaces allowed a more intimate exchange to take place. These locations were an integral part of the process – their sounds, smells and embedded personal imprint influenced the images in ways impossible to achieve in a studio.

The portraits were taken with available light and are unretouched and unembellished. It felt important to share their stories through an honest gaze, and for that reason, I asked each artist to wear what they felt comfortable in, there was no stylist, no hair or make-up assistant. There was no rearranging of furniture or objects. This was not about perfection, but rather the experience and how authentic it felt. I was interested in the story unfolding before me; as I disappeared into the background, observing the silent dialogue between the artist, their work and the space they inhabited.

When I visited artist Hiromi Tango’s home-based studio in Bundjalung land/Northern Rivers, she invited me to look at her garden, which was blooming with flowers. Hiromi’s portrait was taken in her garage, where she stores some of her work materials and installations. She was wearing a colourful dress that a friend had gifted her just the day before. Rainbows are a recurrent theme in Hiromi’s work. She seeks inspiration from neuroscience and her own lived experience to explore the impact of the rainbow colour palette on the brain and how it can positively support mental health and wellbeing.

I travelled to Meanjin/Brisbane to photograph ceramicist Nicolette Johnson, where we talked about her extensive collection of ceramics and her love for mid-century furniture, op shop finds and art. She was very comfortable switching between the portraits and working on her ceramics, absorbed in a state of flow. The natural light and predominately earthy tones in her home/studio bring a grounded energy to the images. I was drawn to Nicolette’s distinctive and adorned ceramic work, but also by her story as a photographer who dealt with anxiety early in her career. She was perceptive enough to realise that something needed to change. In an effort to improve her mental health, she decided to learn something completely new and enrolled in a pottery class. She credits this as one of the best decisions she ever made, as she fell in love with clay and turned it into a full-time career.

The portrait stories continued with Mia Boe, one of the youngest artists I photographed for Artists at Home. Born in Meanjin/Brisbane in 1997 with Butchulla and Burmese ancestry, she uses her voice to record and recover First Nations people’s histories. I was fascinated by the stories she had to share and her political and evocative work that looks at the brutal history of colonisation in Australia through a contemporary perspective. ‘I am a daughter of a Burmese man who left his birth country as a refugee at the age of five. My mother didn’t grow up on Country, she didn’t know she was Aboriginal until she was a teenager – my grandmother was worried she would have her children taken away from her if the authorities found out.’ I photographed Mia at home in her loungeroom. The small painting of an Aboriginal woman and child on the credenza was a gift from her mother, found in an op shop by ‘artist unknown’.

The realisation that women artists needed more visibility was the driving force behind Artists at Home. It was about reaching within my own experiences as a woman with multiple roles – writer, photographer, daughter, mother, wife – and exploring the ‘imbalance’ between domesticity and women’s empowerment. The stories came from this very intuitive place, in honour of my feminine ancestral lineage. Growing up, it was the stories I was interested in. My grandmother, Maria Dias, was an inspiring female role model for me. My mum tells she once stitched herself back together after being hit by a bull. She birthed 14 children at home, and although she never had a chance to pursue a creative career, largely due to the expectations placed on her as mother and wife,

I remember her as a strong and determined woman. As a child, I learned much from just observing her. She was a wise woman and had a strong connection to the land, planting and growing her own produce in crop rotation, sewing her own clothes. She was also a great storyteller and a healer, tirelessly drying and mixing herbs to treat all kinds of ailments. My grandmother’s stories were passed down to me, and although they challenged my perception of the blurry lines between gender roles and equality, they also made me curious and inquisitive, pushing me forward. I love sharing these ancestral stories with my children, as they form the bones of who we are.

The weight of womanhood and how modern culture defines women are also themes explored in Prudence Flint’s works. I photographed Prudence in her home-based studio in Naarm/Melbourne. She warned me, ‘I don’t enjoy getting my photo taken. It is intimate and a kind of performance. On top of that, I am ambivalent and resistant to putting myself up for scrutiny and placement’. Early on in my career, this statement would have made me feel uncomfortable but I actually enjoyed the challenge, the tension and directness in the exchange. When I showed Prudence the portraits, she wasn’t pleased, and she asked me to come back at a later date. The second time around we sat down for longer and more expansive and deeper conversations took place. Prudence was not so worried about revealing how she lived and worked. The resulting images are unfiltered – there is humanity, authenticity and beauty in what she shared.

Kate Tucker was the first artist I invited to take part in the book. I came across her work during an exhibition and was intrigued by the different techniques and materials she used to create her paintings including hand-dyed and digitally printed textiles, oil painting and braided cloth layered with clear varnish. Kate described the experience of sitting for her portrait: ‘The night before my portrait was taken, a relationship I’d been in had ended in a confusing way. I was staying out of town at my parents’ home with my children. I knew Karina had travelled from interstate, so I didn’t want to cancel. The moment I met her I cried. I realised she was there to see me, not just my work and studio. She had brought in some pastries and said we could just sit down and talk, and we could do it another time. At one point I started showing her my work and the studio, and she asked if it was okay to photograph some of the work. With my permission, she ended up taking my portrait. When I saw the images, they captivated me, but the version of me I saw in them was confronting. I shared my thoughts and feelings with Karina, but she challenged me – she had seen something I couldn’t see at the time. Not sadness, but strength and resilience. As I look back, I now see what she saw, the power of that moment, the realisation that I had been carrying a load as a woman that wasn’t my responsibility, and I would never do that again.’

I have always admired Miranda Skoczek for her bold and opulent aesthetic. Her paintings are responses to her surroundings and what she consumes visually and emotionally. She is a process painter, merging abstraction and representation with a strong emphasis on colour and symbolism. Our conversations are insightful and expansive, touching on our mutual experiences in motherhood and our love for art, food and interiors.

I photographed Miranda at home a couple of times. She always brings a very clear visual idea, so there is a sense of playfulness and fun which spills into the images.

Janet Laurence’s studio in Gadigal land/Sydney evoked both a museum and a laboratory: the windows draped in soft veils of fabric and the tables covered with an extensive archive of rocks, minerals, leaves, photographs, beakers and flasks. I photographed Janet in 2021, when her beloved dog Muddy was still alive (he passed away a year later). Through our conversations, Janet put great emphasis on our current climate crises and systemic gender imbalances. She recalled how the sacrifice of motherhood for art was a concerning part of the patriarchal narrative early in her career, when women artists would be dismissed if they chose to raise a family.

At Hidden Lake in Gundungurra land/Southern Highlands, I was greeted by artist Louise Olsen and her dad John. Their studios were located at opposite ends of the house and Louise was working on multiple paintings for an upcoming exhibition at the time. I was particularly drawn to her earth-based pigments, with fluid gestures and seedpod-shaped pourings on the canvas. After we finished with the photos and interview, they invited me for lunch and a glass of wine in their kitchen, where Louise spoke with tenderness about her late mum Valerie, who was a talented painter in her own right. We talked about the landscape, Brazilian culture and Bossa Nova, emerging Australian artists, and the fact that Janet Laurence was one of John’s students back in the 70s. These are encounters which will always be imprinted in the memory of the book.

Multidisciplinary artist Stanislava Pinchuk was about to move to Sarajevo when I visited her in Naarm/Melbourne in 2020 as the city eased from 262 days in lockdown. Much of her apartment was already packed in boxes. She wanted a slower pace of life with more time to read, to think abstractly rather than practically, and to look after her body more. When I asked what home meant to her, she said: ‘I find myself feeling at “home” in most places I end up, in one way or another. I’ve just always thought that my body is “home”.’ I photographed her in a corner of her apartment, surrounded by a collection of artworks, some of which were exchanged for homemade tattoos, including pieces by Del Kathryn Barton, Miranda Skoczek, Eike König and Yoko Ono.

At artist Lindy Lee’s studio in Bundjalung land/Northern Rivers, time stood still while we talked about meditation, the intimate connection between human existence and the cosmos, and the five elements, which are a recurrent theme in her work. Lindy also shared a few kōans, stories used in Zen Buddhist practice to provoke self-investigation and help unravel greater truths about the world and yourself. She described her art practice as a way of exploring her identity, ‘To realise that my ancestry is Chinese, but my birthplace is Australia, and I can hold those together’. When I first photographed Lindy, her partner Rob Scott-Mitchell was still alive. They both shared an unbound love for their Scottie dogs.

Gaining permission to photograph and share the artists’ stories was, and is, a large and far-reaching responsibility. From the very start, my intention was to amplify and empower the voices of female artists, supporting them alongside other significant gender equality centred initiatives, such as the National Gallery of Australia’s Know My Name project. These portraits explore how it feels to be a woman, a female artist, seen through the eyes of another woman.

I am indebted to their generosity and collaboration. Each portrait captures a small part of these artists in a moment in time; what emerges is a powerful woman shining with inner strength and comfortable in her own skin. 

Karina Dias Pires’ book Artists at Home was published by Thames & Hudson Australia in November 2022.