To celebrate the news of Michael Reid Sydney + Berlin’s representation of Linde Ivimey, writer Carrie McCarthy met the artist at her Eora/Sydney home and studio to discuss the ideas, experiences, and material approach that guide her globally celebrated sculptural practice.

Perched on a stool at a workbench surrounded by an archive of totems and keepsakes, Linde Ivimey sits with her head bowed in concentration. Nearby, an audiobook plays; the text, a book on the mythology of ancient Mesopotamia. Her fingers move rhythmically as she pulls twine through a collection of tiny star-shaped bones, weaving them into a delicate lattice that will soon drape across a toddler-sized form waiting nearby.

When the last piece is threaded, it will be pinned into place, before adding pearls or quandong seeds or a gemstone she once used to wear. She might add a flourish of peacock feathers or a veil of hand-dyed silk. Eventually, the form’s character will emerge – an uncanny evocation of Ivimey’s contemplations as she shaped it into being.

Bones have been an intrinsic part of Ivimey’s idiosyncratic art practice for more than 20 years, representing strength and fragility, mortality and survival. Inspired by a childhood fascination with the wishbone from a Sunday roast, Ivimey began using bone as the basis of her experimentations when she was still too young to understand she was tapping into a history of artmaking that stretches back to Paleolithic times.

As she and her art practice matured, Ivimey gravitated towards the symbolism of Ancient Egyptians, Etruscans and the Cycladic people, as well as artists such as Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud and Balthus, whose depictions of fleshy bodies and desire still inform her work.

It’s impossible to feel alone in Ivimey’s studio – there is always a presence there, demanding to be recognised. If it sounds a little magical and esoteric, to a certain extent it is.

Many collectors, curators and gallery staff have mentioned feeling protective of Ivimey’s sculptures in a way that extends beyond the standard need to care for a valuable piece of art.

Despite being devoid of any recognisable facial features, they personify recognisable emotions, hopes and vulnerabilities. There are definite dark undertones, but there is also a strong impression of humour and playfulness.

Though not always strictly autobiographical, the visual language Ivimey employs is deeply personal. Her work is both a salve and an invitation to better understand ourselves – a way to make sense of life and reflect on humanity.

Perhaps the humanness inherent in her sculptures exists because there is no clear delineation between Ivimey’s art practice and her life. Her home, above her studio, is less a dwelling than an art installation within which she finds sanctuary and serenity.

“What I live out in my art is what I let out.”

Linde Ivimey

Located in an area of inner Sydney once known as a centre of manufacturing, the converted warehouse holds the imprints and energy of the many makers who came before – carpenters, distillers, printers, and photographers have all made this place their own. Warm timber floors reflect the building’s history, as does the staircase, the steps of which dip in the middle from almost two centuries of footfall.

Swathes of fabric hang from exposed beams to break the cavernous space into discrete areas for researching, making, dining or entertaining, though no one thing in her life is ever really separate from another.

During the day, sun beams through long sash windows, illuminating piles of heavily-thumbed books and curious collections such as antique pocket watches, rosary beads, and a cabinet of uranium glassware.

At night, the living space is lit softly by chandeliers of strung bone. Though orderly, every surface shows signs of an artist for whom making is a compulsion even in her downtime.

Pencil sketches on brown notepaper sit alongside notepads with lists of possible exhibition titles. Dainty Swarovski crystals sparkle across a small black square of velvet, some already strung onto fine cotton strands. To the side, burgeoning experiments with clothing ties are beginning to come together. Though there might be simultaneous projects on the go, it feels cohesive rather than erratic.

Ivimey is pragmatic enough to understand why audiences might be confronted by the inclusion of bone in her work, though, as she says, “bones are the stuff of us.” Prior to discovering chicken wishbones, Ivimey’s childhood dream had been to become a doctor, and she remains intensely curious about the biology of ‘being’.

She never stops learning, investigating, and evolving, and neither do her sculptures. There have been times of significant ill health and upheaval throughout her career, but the one constant has been her ability to pour those experiences into her art in such a way that they reflect the complexity of all our lives. 

“I think we spend a lot of our adult life reconciling our childhood and I think that happens for me through my sculptures – making… tending to those figures… They’re meant to do something… They’re meant to be therapeutic. A lot of the sculptures have content that helps me look after the little girl in me I still need to look after. And the big grown-up woman.”

Linde Ivimey

Eora/Sydney-based contemporary photographer Scott Perkins distils the natural world into minimalist poetry, producing ultra-refined, abstracted landscapes steeped in moody atmospheres. Shot in remote corners of Australia, New Zealand, Europe and beyond, his brooding forests and sweeping seascapes are pared back to elemental forms: softly gradated horizons, starkly silhouetted escarpments and silvery skies whose hazy, granular shimmer glints like celestial dust. Housed in bespoke, architecturally formed timber frames and softly glowing light boxes, each portal-like piece operates as much like sculpture as photography, drawing the viewer into meditative, ambiguous realms.

On the eve of our announcement of Perkins’s formal representation by Michael Reid Sydney + Berlin – and ahead of his touring solo show Uncertain Truths at Michael Reid Southern Highlands – we sat down with the artist to discuss the ideas and techniques that propel his practice. The conversation unfolded at High Res Digital, where Perkins was working alongside Australia’s pre-eminent fine-art printing specialist, Warren Macris, perfecting two new works that will appear exclusively in the Berrima iteration of Uncertain Truths, expanding on the series that debuted at Michael Reid Sydney in April 2025.

Read our interview with Scott Perkins below, and visit Michael Reid Southern Highlands – in person or online – to experience Uncertain Truths. For further information, please email danielsoma@michaelreid.com.au.

What was the starting point for your 2025 series, Uncertain Truths, and how did it evolve through the production process?

I am always working remotely. Out early, looking for light and shadow. In a boat at dawn, up a hill in a storm, walking in nature at dusk. Absence focuses the mind on what can be seen beyond the superficial, even if it’s wonderful. I suppose I’m looking to simplify and reduce and, in the process, expose some uncertainty. Hence “Uncertain Truths”. Each image can be understood at a simple level as landscape abstraction – the essential and timeless truth of what is factually there. But none are what they seem. Nor are they universally explainable. I hope every viewer has their own read. The best will tell a story that will sustain their engagement.

What were some of the experiences that informed the work?

There are works in this series shot in remote locations off the coast of Italy, Tasmania, the Kimberleys, and New Zealand. And yet none are overtly identifiable. I like that. Nature is a great leveller.

How do you view the series as a continuation of your previous work and perhaps as a point of departure?

The photographs are clearly family members. The large framed lightboxes intensify the photographic experience, while one work ventures into a more painterly approach. The black lightboxes fuse sculpture and photography – they are illuminated voids. And then there is a new format – small, deep-framed, wooden lightboxes – portals. They engage the viewer in a way that invites exploration. Two use Awagami paper that creates a very different experience, redolent of memories expressed through landscape.

What were some of the technical challenges in creating the works in this series, and how were you able to resolve them?

The lightboxes are technically challenging, requiring a degree of engineering and image quality that tests the marvellous crew at High Res Digital Printing. The new portals are finely milled by the craftspeople at Graphic Art Mount from specific timbers resistant to movement but capable of such treatment. And again, I use metallic papers that are beautifully printed by Pixel Perfect.

Could you tell us about some of your favourite works from Uncertain Truths? Is there a narrative thread running through the series?

You can’t choose between your children! I hope every work sustains the viewers’ engagement. I hope there is a vast array of different interpretations, drawing upon each viewer’s experiences. I hope they look marvellous on the wall.

Could you tell us about the two new works you have completed for your presentation of Uncertain Truths at Michael Reid Southern Highlands? How do they build on your series?

It was fascinating watching people engage with the portals and the reaction to the works on Awagami paper. So we have taken that and run with it, introducing new works in black portals on Awagami. And we have opened up a new, but connected, series – venturing into the abstract landscapes and taking the viewer deep into the embedded forests and trees. I’ve been looking for a different way to express what lurks in the forest. It’s a genre done well by many people. What I’m pleased with is how the confluence of light boxes, the deep portals and Awagami create a new way of experiencing these scenes.

What other projects are you looking forward to working on in the coming year?

More of the same but different. This year camera equipment is being lugged into far fetched seascapes, a remote archipelago and deep into more forests. More to follow!