WELCOME TO MY STUDIO

Take a peak into the studios of an upcoming wave of young artists and see a glimpse of what God is showing them through their unique processes of creativity. From Sydney to Perth to London and the rest of the world over, art is thriving through people willing to continue using their gifts and create for a bigger purpose.

Never in my life did I think I would become a professional artist. I’ve always loved art and creative expression, but never saw it as my life’s focus. When I finished school, I actually started studying zoology and worked at Taronga Zoo and then Western Plains Zoo.

But creativity kept pulling me back. I just felt like I was missing something.

So, I switched focus and pivoted to an Interior Architectural degree. I worked in the industry here and there, but it never grew into a career.

In 2017, I was helping a friend who asked me if I would paint some flowers for a house he was building. So, I painted some peonies, not because I’m an avid gardener, but because I thought they expressed the beauty, peace, generosity, and compassion of God.

Little did I know that five years later I would become a full-time artist.

I started by just giving it a go and putting paint on the canvas, but as I continued, I found that there were moments I would get really frustrated with certain sections that were more technical in nature. After a while, I started playing Christian music and worshipping through those moments. Suddenly, God’s peace would envelope me and the art would just flow out of me. I started to say, ‘Ok, God, use me. Use this for Your purpose.’

When ‘lockdown 2020’ hit, I lost my job. I felt like I was drifting, and I just needed something to do, so I randomly filmed myself painting and posted it to TikTok. It was literally the worst video ever. It was so awkward and badly filmed. But one year and over fifty-thousand followers later — I can honestly say I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s all God.

The videos are simply me painting and talking about the process. Sometimes I mention a Bible verse or drop in a statement about going to Church. I’m not doing anything amazing. I’m just talking about art. But my intention is to show God, not to preach — just to paint.

The response has been overwhelming. I have received messages from strangers all over the world to thank me and say they specifically look for my posts. When they see them, they tell me their anxiety disappears, depression lifts and joy, peace, and happiness take their place.

I tried to figure out what exactly was reflecting God to people, and I realised that people are feeling God’s peace and comfort because I worship as I paint. I’m not saying it’s about me worshipping. I’m saying it’s the fact that there is worship present and it’s aimed like an arrow toward the one, true God. When I create, I want Him to be fully involved in my artwork, guiding my hand so that His Kingdom is built through the art as well.

Knowing that my art is translating God to people is overwhelming and it pushes me to keep putting God at the centre.

Kurt

ROBERTSON Written with: Greta Elizabeth

My art has become more authentic. I say this because the past two years have been spent mostly at home, resulting in art that’s closer to my core — not intentionally, but consequently.

I’ve recently realised there are two versions of myself: my ‘home self’ and the refined sub-set of that, the ‘people self’ — the version that other people see and engage with. I like to think these versions aren’t too different, but they do affect my art-making in different ways. Being cooped-up at home has led to the subconscious neglect of my ‘people self’, meaning the work produced by my “home self” was less refined and more authentic. In forgetting how I’d usually present myself to the world, my intentions and outcomes remained strongly aligned. I was less concerned about opinions and less self-conscious, because I didn’t remember what to be self-conscious about.

My art has also become more spontaneous and unpredictable. I’ve been enlightened to new ways of working which have kept things explorable. Although I study art and am obliged to produce it, art-making has somehow still remained a hobby. That said, I’m not always motivated. I have come to realise, though, that my demotivation is connected to my expectations, and the occasional sense of inadequacy I feel in working to meet those expectations. I try to snap out of this by remembering, even though in that moment I may not have ‘good’ ideas (or any), I don’t need ideas to make art. I might not be in the mood to pull out a canvas to work on, but art isn’t restricted to the canvas.

Also, I never consciously made art when I was younger. I never strained or struggled. I didn’t think, I just acted. These days I try to go back to that way of thinking. What results from this is a lot of new works, in new styles, that I get to analyse, interpret and learn from. I may not understand what I’ve made, but now I’ve got something new to work with. I get to be playful again, re-connecting to how things started for me. Consequently, demotivation lifts, curiosity begets ease, and joy is re-invited to the process.

I feel like art existed before almost anything else in the world, whether we realised it or not. Art is so incomprehensibly vast that my human nature always wants to contain it, which makes artmaking strenuous. Art is the last thing that should be put in a box. I think I get ‘stuck’ when I try and force creativity into those walls, which should never have existed in the first place. I know these things now, but have to keep reminding myself of them to keep going. Long story short, my art has changed though the subconscious abandonment of external concerns and self-imposed limitations. I didn’t know this was what I needed, but I’m grateful for it.

Painting with my Feet Acrylic on MDF | 2021

Water Rising in a Bucket Acrylic on Canvas | 2021

Rachelle DUSTING

Eighteen months ago, I found myself in a place deeply impacted by the loss of a significant person in my life. The grief felt heavy, and every day was an uphill climb dealing with the disappointment of hope and dreams lost. I felt stuck, weighed down, and my sense of purpose wandering.

Almost a week later, I awoke one morning with a sudden urgency to get things ‘out on paper’ and channel exactly what I was feeling into images to paint. It’s those moments you realise the power of daily dialogue with the Lord. When you recognise certain promptings that are Holy Spirit inspired, you learn to pull on the thread.

I called a photographer friend and she met with me to shoot content for what was to become my next series of artworks. My heart was grieving and the only way I knew how to combat the torrent of emotions was to fight with creativity. Little did I know that just a few days later, COVID-19 would enter our worlds. These images became the catalyst for a body of work which has been able to speak so much further than just my loss and regained hope. They echo the collective grief shared by our human experiences across the globe.

People’s stories are what inspire and pique my curiosity in the painting process. Whether I’m painting a stranger or a friend, I find it both challenging and rewarding capturing a likeness which evokes feelings that create a particular narrative. I have a strong drive towards excellence in my personality, and this naturally comes out in the art style I work in called Realism. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been compelled to draw and paint faces. I feel like storytelling through portraiture and figures is the best way I can articulate what I want to share with those viewing my work. But in this season, there has been a noticeable shift in the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ behind my art.

In this season, painting has become a tangible way of moving through life’s unforeseen circumstances. I tried to curate these paintings in a way that would beckon an emotive response from those viewing the work. The composition in each artwork intended to capture facial and full-body expressions that would make others feel seen in their pain and would speak to the beauty, relief and hope that could still be found.

I know painting — now more than ever — to be a tool for healing. It allowed me to sit and hold compassion towards my pain. It is a sacred space where God meets me in my need and reveals himself as the Great Comforter as the brush sways in my hand. Suddenly, the subject matter of my work shifted from painting others to painting myself — the canvas attempting to reveal holy moments, not just from my current season, but what I was aspiring to become: free, surrendered and hope-filled again.

Reflections | 2021

Unfold | 2020