Gemma Smith is an Australian artist with a unique and marvellous output. Her paintings engage the viewer in unexpected ways.
I first met Gemma without knowing who she was or anything about her work. She mentioned she had a show on at Sullivan+Strumpf in Zetland and that she often keeps paintings in reserve, only showing those that connect through a visual or conceptual thread. I was curious – so I went.
The works knocked me for six: colour, gesture, luminosity, depth – yet with a disarming immediacy, playful and seemingly childlike.
These are sophisticated abstractions, born from a practice of both constraint and spontaneity. The tension between those approaches doesn’t cancel out; it creates space for transformation. There’s deep knowledge of paint and colour – their limits, their potential.
The paintings are fully abstract, with no figure or landscape to anchor the viewer. Circular, spiralling motifs overlap and dissolve. They call you in to look closer, to connect meditatively, without the cue of a familiar form.
Some passages resemble intricate dotting. One imagines our primal ancestors, moved by the first fires of creativity, reaching forward with finger or tool to make a first mark – a dot, a smear – becoming something loved, craved or feared. Gemma’s work carries that same spark into the present.
This August, she’ll be artist in residence at the Australian Tapestry Workshop in Victoria. In September, she’ll show with Sullivan+Strumpf at Sydney Contemporary, also featured in Installation Contemporary.
Yes, there’s magic in the air – and occasionally, we’re lucky enough to witness it.
