Odyssey

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Odyssey

Michael Reid Sydney will commence our 2026 exhibitions program with the most ambitious project to date from Eora/Sydney-based contemporary painter Kathy Liu. Now available to preview digitally and in person by request, Liu’s new series takes the title Odyssey both as a nod to the Classical Greco-Roman inflections of the curious, inchoate forms that play out within her abstract compositions – figures that slowly cohere through gossamer clouds of colour, lending her large-scale paintings the feeling of a faded fresco or timeworn tapestry – and to the open-ended process that produced them. For Liu, this approach is another odyssey of sorts, embracing the serendipitous digressions and chance encounters that emerge through her painterly wanderings.

“None were preplanned,” says the artist, whose forthcoming solo exhibition will be her first to unfold across our entire flagship ground-floor space. “Instead of letting the idea lead to action, I reversed this, beginning with action, letting myself embark on a personal odyssey, a wander towards the notion of an idea. It’s almost like a jack-in-the-box, full of surprises, and I enjoy surprising myself.” Awash with an almost celestial luminosity, Odyssey represents a confident and sophisticated honing of Liu’s singular vision and technique, even while her methods remain open to the unexpected, ethereal and ineffable possibilities of an intuitive abstract practice – a process likened to “a game of chance” in a 2024 Belle magazine profile.

“What might begin as an exercise in loose, tonal abstraction can take a delightfully unexpected turn as amorphous pools begin to coalesce and playfully enigmatic, inchoate figures emerge through diaphanous wafts of colour,” noted the Belle story. “Redolent of hazy memories, nocturnal musings or half-remembered dreams, the resulting compositions feel alive with emotion, poeticism, a sense of magic and effervescent movement.”

Discussing her Odyssey series, Liu says she imagines her paintings as a visual analogue to stream-of-consciousness writing – bringing another literary dimension to a series that feels imbued, albeit with delightful ambiguities, with gestures to classical tales, epic narratives and oral histories held in the mind’s eye. “Just as our thought processes are very rarely linear and defined, my works, an introspective reflection of the subconscious mind, don’t present clearly bound storylines,” says the artist. “Instead, I would like to invite my audience to wander through the paintings, to explore the potential narratives within them.”

To sign up for early previews and first access to works from Odyssey by Kathy Liu – or book a private viewing before the 2025 Christmas holidays – please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Japarra (The Moonman)

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Japarra (The Moonman)

  • Artist
    Columbiere Tipungwuti
  • Dates
    26 Feb—21 Mar 2026
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

A major highlight of the official artistic program at the 2026 Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras festival, Japarra (The Moonman) by Columbiere Tipungwuti opens in February at Michael Reid Sydney and marks the Tiwi Islands artist and dancer’s first large-scale solo exhibition since his star turn in our annual survey Painting Now.

Set to walk alongside the Sistagirls in the 2026 Mardi Gras Parade, Tipungwuti is a significant presence within the Tiwi Islands community and an artist whose highly distinctive painting practice continues to draw strong institutional and collector interest across Australia and abroad.

Tipungwuti’s Murrakupupuni (Country) is Wurankuwu, a homeland inherited through his father’s family, while his tribe, Wulinjuwula (Mosquito), comes from his matrilineal line. Having performed ballet in Eora/Sydney in the 1980s, he is also an accomplished dancer. “My father danced Jarranga (buffalo) and my mother danced Ampiji (rainbow),” says Tipungwuti, who continues to perform at ceremony and events where there is yoyi (dance). “My totem is buffalo, but when some of those women who are related through my mother’s side dance Ampiji, I join in, too.”

Across his striking monochrome works on bark and canvas, Tipungwuti depicts the celestial figures at the heart of Tiwi ceremonial culture: Japarra, the moon-man who brought mortality into the world, and japalinga, the stars whose ochred forms adorn dancers during ceremony and yoyi. “I paint Japarra because I want to tell that story from long ago – what he did on earth and keep that story going,” says the artist. The story recounts Japarra’s encounter with Purukuparli and Wai-ai, the death of their child, and his ascent to the sky, where his white light reminds the Tiwi people of the cycle of life and death.

“In parlingarri – old time – Japarra saw the family out bush; the baby died from the sun, and Japarra wanted to take him up for three days and bring him back alive. But the father said, ‘Karlu’ – ‘no’. After fighting, Japarra flew up and stayed in the sky to become the moon and look down on the whole world. Now everyone around the world can’t come back; they must follow that father and his son and die when it is their time.”

Rendered in stark black and white, the ancestral moon-man appears, by turns, solemn, playful and elemental; his face endlessly compelling. “Japarra is white – the moon-man has a white body. All the stars are white and the moon is white too,” Tipungwuti explains of his palette, made from white ochre collected on Country at Wurankuwu. “I want to share my story and the story of my painting with people from all over the world.”

A finalist in the 2024 National Emerging Art Prize, Tipungwuti’s work was shown to great acclaim in 2025 at UNSW Galleries in Parlingarri Amintiya Ningani Awungarra: Old and New, curated by José Da Silva with Jilamara Arts.

“In years gone by, there was a strong Tiwi tradition of producing nude figurative ironwood carvings that tell [Japarra’s] story,” writes cultural critic and researcher Tristen Harwood. “Tipungwuti’s paintings draw on these important cultural influences to create innovative works grounded in his knowledge of the old stories and connection to longstanding practices of storytelling.”

Works from Japarra (The Moonman) by Columbiere Tipungwuti will be available to preview and acquire in the lead-up to the show’s opening in February as part of the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras festival. For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

The Christmas Tree Bucket

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The Christmas Tree Bucket

  • Artist
    Trent Parke
  • Dates
    1 Nov 2025—6 Sep 2026
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    National Gallery of Australia

The National Gallery of Australia is now presenting the entire suite of pictures from leading contemporary photographer Trent Parke’s iconic 2006–09 series The Christmas Tree Bucket in the NGA Collection Display – on view until September 2026. A tender and irreverent portrayal of his extended family coming together to celebrate Christmas, the series encapsulates Parke’s distinctive visual style and skilful use of light and colour, lensing suburban shibboleths with raw documentary candour and an eye for the uncanny that transforms the mundane into something transcendent.

Born in Mulubinba/Newcastle, Parke is one of the most insightful and compelling documentarians of contemporary Australia and the only Australian photographer to have become a member of the prestigious photo agency Magnum. All works from Trent Parke’s extraordinary photographic archive – including remaining editions from The Christmas Tree Bucket – are available to acquire by request, with a selection available to browse and acquire online. For assistance with this collection of photographs please email danielsoma@michaelreid.com.au

Nasim Nasr | Artist Profile

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Nasim Nasr | Artist Profile

  • Artist
    Nasim Nasr
  • Dates
    27 Oct—21 Dec 2025
  • Gallery Location
    Berlin

Alongside Michael Reid Berlin’s career-spanning survey for Nasim Nasr – who will deliver an intimate talk and a personal tour of her exhibition on Saturday, 29 November – the gallery is pleased to present our recent conversation with the Tehran-born, Eora/Sydney-based artist, exploring the ideas, experiences and dualities that have propelled her multifaceted art practice for more than 15 years.

“The enduring thread is the dialogue between East and West – between my past in Iran and my present in Australia,” says Nasr of the connective themes that weave through the works now on view at Michael Reid Berlin. “Each project lives under this umbrella of seeking harmony between two cultural worlds. The narratives often begin with experiences from the East but are articulated and transformed through my life in the West. My work also speaks to the dualities we carry: black and white, pain and joy, the half-hidden and half-revealed. We live in constant tension between control and release, hope and hopelessness, usefulness and uselessness. These opposing forces shape us and form the visual and emotional language running through my practice.”

Now completing the prestigious Cité Internationale des Arts studio residency in Paris, awarded by Creative Australia, Nasr is among the most original and essential voices in Australian contemporary art. Spanning photography, sculpture, performance and installation, her work has been exhibited across Australia and abroad – most recently at Photo London – and is held in major collections, including the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Powerhouse Museum, Artbank and the Parliament House Art Collection.

Read our interview with Nasim Nasr below. Works from her solo exhibition can be explored and acquired online HERE, as well as at the gallery and by request.

For all enquiries, or to RSVP to Saturday’s public event, please email colinesoria@michaelreid.com.au

What were some of your early creative influences?

My earliest influences included contemporary artists such as Vanessa Beecroft and Shirin Neshat, whose approaches to performance, the female body and cultural identity deeply shaped my thinking. I was also inspired by European masters like Amedeo Modigliani and Alberto Giacometti, and by Persian poets including Forough Farrokhzad and Sadegh Hedayat. Their emotional depth, sense of vulnerability and explorations of identity have stayed with me throughout my practice.

These influences continue to appear in works such as Erasure (2010), where I reference Farrokhzad by writing and erasing her poetry Rebirth. In Restless (2015), a paragraph from Hedayat about masks and hidden identities is read in multiple languages. My performance Women in Shadow (2011, 2018) also reflects the visual and conceptual inspirations I draw from both Beecroft and Neshat. Across my practice, their impact can be seen in my ongoing focus on double identity, visibility, and the tension between what is revealed and what is concealed.

What ideas, experiences or themes do you return to in your work?

Across my practice, I return to themes shaped by my lived experience as an Iranian-born Australian woman – my first twenty years in Iran and the rest in Australia. Since moving here in 2009, photography and video have become central to my work, and the contrast between growing up under suppression in Iran and now creating freely in Australia continues to inform my narrative. I frequently explore double identity, displacement, cultural bipolarity, and the tension between relief and restriction.
The emotional and cultural contrasts between my life in Iran and my life in Australia remain fundamental. My work often seeks to build a bridge between East and West, between my past and my present. And yet the more I try to escape or erase my past, the more it reappears in my work.

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?

One of the most significant breakthroughs came shortly after I moved to Australia in 2009. In Iran, I had been a painter and drawer focusing on nude female bodies—work I was never allowed to exhibit. When I arrived in Australia, I was taken to Maslin Beach, a nude beach in South Australia, with the idea that I could finally draw freely. Instead, that moment became a turning point. After years of censorship, I suddenly found myself in a place where nudity was permitted, yet I instinctively felt the need to cover myself. This contradiction pushed me toward photography and video, exploring self-censorship and concealment in a free country.

The first photograph I ever took – Image of Liberation (2010) – emerged from this experience and remains my most published work. That moment of cultural shock was also a creative pivot that reshaped my entire practice. Another breakthrough came during COVID, when I began working with glass – a medium I’d never imagined using. I revisited the historical tradition of tear collectors used by women in 17th-century Persia and reimagined them through a contemporary lens. What began as an experiment became a meaningful extension of my practice, and the work was received extremely well. Glass tear collectors have since become an ongoing part of my artistic journey.

Could you tell us about Forty Pages?

Forty Pages began from a place of pain, frustration and exhaustion. Between 2009 and 2015, I was exhibiting internationally while still travelling on an Iranian passport. The process was extremely difficult: visas, interrogations, long airport stops and the constant anxiety of being treated with suspicion. Every journey felt heavy. I wasn’t yet an Australian citizen and became acutely aware of how a single document could control your movement, your freedom, and even your sense of self.

When I finally became an Australian citizen in 2015, I felt compelled to close that chapter by transforming it into art. I used my old Iranian passport and its forty pages filled with stamps, marks and traces of those years of struggle. In the series, the accumulation of stamps becomes a form of scar tissue as I build them onto my face, layer by layer, until I no longer recognise myself.

The iconic portrait where I cover my face shows only Australian entry stamps – symbolising a new identity and a new sense of belonging. Half revealed, half obscured, it reflects the complexity of migration and living between cultures.

Ten years later, I see Forty Pages as an emotional and political self-portrait. It still resonates, especially as global borders and migration debates remain fraught. It reminds me how fragile—and powerful—identity documents can be. Today, I travel freely with my Australian passport, and physical stamps barely exist. The fact that the work continues to speak to others shows that these struggles are not just personal, but global.

How does photography relate to your broader art practice?

Photography is deeply connected to all facets of my practice. The concept always comes first, and then the medium that feels most truthful brings it to life. Photography often becomes the primary form because it captures the immediacy of my emotional and lived experience, particularly through self-portraiture. Using myself as the subject allows me to express personal narratives in the most direct, honest way. But my ideas rarely feel complete in a single form. Video, performance and installation expand the narrative and add layers of meaning. Many works begin as photographs but find deeper resonance through movement, sound or the physical presence of the body.

Although self-portraiture is central, I also cast other models when needed. My very first subjects were my brother and sister, whose presence allowed me to explore identity and family history from different perspectives. In this way, photography becomes both foundation and connective tissue – an entry point that opens into performance, video and installation.

Could you tell us about your latest body of work, Unspoken Words?

Unspoken Words is a photography and video series developed over the past two years in response to witnessing global conflicts and the pressure around speaking – or staying silent. Today, no matter how you speak up, there are consequences; yet remaining silent creates an internal battle. This tension between expression and suppression became the emotional starting point for the work.

I began by reflecting on my own “unspoken words”, the things I carry but often cannot voice. From there, the work expanded into a broader meditation on collective silence, political pressure and the emotional weight of global crises. The melting blue ink in my hands and mouth – formed from an ice cube – became the central metaphor. Blue ink was the first ink I used as a child to learn to write, and it is also the ink used today to sign treaties and documents that govern nations. In the series, the ink represents the fragility of truth, the instability of speech, and the way words can be frozen, controlled or dissolved. Through this visual language, Unspoken Words explores the struggle between voice and silence, the personal and the political, and the weight of what we say and what we don’t.

How do you view the series as a continuation and a departure within your practice?

Most of my recent works – Measure of Love, 33 Beads, Forty Pages, and now Unspoken Words – are studio-based photographic series. In many ways, Unspoken Words continues this direction, but it also marks a shift through its use of blue and its focus on more internal, global conflicts. My process often begins with what I call a “mental pregnancy”– a period of pressure, reflection and emotional build-up. Once the idea is fully formed, I move into the studio and create the work in a single, focused moment. I frequently place myself in the image when the concept emerges from lived experience, because embodying it allows the emotion to transfer directly to the audience.

In 33 Beads, for example, I confronted the tension between holding on and letting go—of memories, objects, traditions. Placing myself physically within the work made the tension feel authentic. Across all these series, the first take is often the strongest – the moment where emotion and concept meet honestly. With Unspoken Words, I continued this approach while pushing into new themes such as silence, consequence and global conflict. The melting ink introduced a new metaphor and visual effect, marking a subtle evolution in my practice while remaining connected to the psychological intensity of my earlier work.

Looking across the works in your Michael Reid Berlin career survey, what themes or shifts define the last decade of your practice?

The enduring thread is the dialogue between East and West – between my past in Iran and my present in Australia. Each project lives under this umbrella of seeking harmony between two cultural worlds. The narratives often begin with experiences from the East but are articulated and transformed through my life in the West.
My work also speaks to the dualities we carry: black and white, pain and joy, the half-hidden and half-revealed. We live in constant tension between control and release, hope and hopelessness, usefulness and uselessness. These opposing forces shape us and form the visual and emotional language running through my practice. Over ten years, you can see the shift from performance and self-portraiture into more experimental works with objects, materials and metaphor. I leave it to the audience to decide whether these works contradict, complement or complete each other. My aim is to open space for viewers to reflect on the tensions and harmonies between these worlds – just as I do in my own life.

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

I am currently working on a fifteen-year video screening survey at the Cité des Arts Auditorium in collaboration with a French pop composer who is creating sound compositions in response to my visuals. Together, we are presenting fifteen years of my video art, accompanied by her live performance – a dialogue between image and sound that highlights the connection between East and West. At the same time, I am developing a new photographic series titled Imprints during my residency. I am also researching a rare 7th-century Persian book, exploring hidden histories of slavery, lust and loneliness experienced by women. This research will inform a new body of work I hope to release next year, alongside potential exhibition opportunities.

PAINTING NOW | Heath Nock

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PAINTING NOW | Heath Nock

  • Artist
    Heath Nock
  • Dates
    4—28 Dec 2025
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

Having trained in the classical tenets of still-life oil painting, Mulubinba/Newcastle-based painter Heath Nock now takes an iconoclast’s approach to the genre, expanding its field of vision to encompass found images from the cultural past and treating this eclectic source material as objects to be observed, dissected and remade with a still-life painter’s eye.

Nock applies the techniques of the Dutch masters to fragments of vintage advertising, old photographs and print ephemera – giving painterly weight to images once fleetingly consumed. “Using photos and advertising, cropping to create a new story with a sense of ambiguity,” he explains, “I want the viewer to question the work and be lost in the moment.”

Across his Painting Now series, these reframed relics become the “stuff of life” – playful, nostalgic and laced with irreverence. Nock’s intriguingly cropped, close-up compositions flirt with the language of mid-century magazines and 1970s leisure culture: suntanned bodies hog the frame, childhood snapshots are steeped in a halcyon glow, cigarette models offer a wink of louche, macho laconicism from a time when vice was aspirational. In the artist’s hands, this imagery is both homage and subtle critique – a witty meditation on how masculinity, desire and memory are staged and sold.

Following a landmark year that included a residency in Germany’s prestigious Young Artist Residency Weidingen and an acclaimed exhibition at UTS Gallery, Nock’s first showing with Michael Reid Sydney displays a thrilling expansion of his painterly vocabulary. What begins as an act of appropriation arrives as something more intimate and evocative – a portrait not of the figures he paints, but of the images themselves, newly luminous, transportive and alive.

For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Explore more from Painting Now HERE.

What were some of your earlier artistic influences?
Skateboard graphics, showground rides, video games, Dutch 17th-century still life paintings and Jackson Pollock. The list continues to grow, but I always refer back to these beginning influences.

What initially drew you to painting and how has your approach developed over time?
I spent a long time as a child in the back of trucks filling in colour-in books. Drawing and painting started as a way to entertain myself and later, a way to explain myself. My love for oil paints began with painting still lifes, and I adopted a lot of techniques that early still life painters used. Over the years, I have developed my own approach to painting with oils, but I’ve always kept the core techniques that the Dutch still life painters used.

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?
This year has been an incredible year for me. It started with Billy Bane including me in the “You’re Welcome” show at UTS, which had a stellar line-up of artists. I had a one-month residency in Germany this June at the Young Artist Residency Weidingen, where the Max Hetzler Foundation and Friedrichs Foundation have some of their brilliant collections and gallery spaces. Ending the year showing at Michael Reid Sydney is a huge honour and caps off a busy and beautiful year.

Could you tell us about the body of work you have created for Painting Now?
Using photos and advertising, cropping to create a new story with a sense of ambiguity. Images that resemble the past with a feeling of nostalgia. Colours that are reminiscent of 35mm film photos and vintage slides.

Is there a narrative or throughline in your Painting Now series?
There is not a direct narrative, but they do have a socially political undertone. I don’t force this, but it subconsciously appears in the work. I want the viewer to question the work and be lost in the ambiguity of the moment.

Could you describe the series in a few words?
A life lived.

PAINTING NOW | Dhukumul Wanambi

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PAINTING NOW | Dhukumul Wanambi

  • Artist
    Dhukumul Wanambi
  • Dates
    4—28 Dec 2025
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

Yirrkala-based artist Dhukumul Waṉambi brings ancestral songlines into motion with Marrakulu Monuk – an animated digital painting that translates her clan’s sacred saltwater miny’tji into luminous, swirling form. “Instead of painting Marrakulu Monuk onto bark with ochres, I wanted to make it digital while staying true to our traditions,” says the artist, who works as a filmmaker and digital artist with The Mulka Project.

Using a self-made digital brush that mimics the fine marwat of Yolŋu bark painting, Waṉambi animates the infinite movement of her Marrakulu homeland’s waters at Gurka’wuy. “My father inspired me to make paintings like this,” she notes of the late artist and cultural leader Mr Waṉambi. “He was the first to take miny’tji that are normally painted onto bark and burial poles, and make them move.”

By transposing cultural knowledge and a time-honoured visual language into the digital realm, Waṉambi continues her father’s legacy of artistic innovation – a mantle shared by her sister, award-winning contemporary artist Gaypalani Waṉambi – and embodies the experimental spirit of Painting Now.

For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Explore more from Painting Now HERE.

What were some of your earlier artistic influences?
My whole family are artists. My mother’s father, and her aunties and grandfather, were all artists. My father and his father, and all my aunties on my dad’s side, were artists too. For myself, I took on my father’s side of the moiety, so that means that I am only to paint what my Marrakulu clan’s designs are. I represent my minytji (clan designs) differently, and show to other Yolŋu artists so that they can see what you can do with minytji designs – not just using paint and bark.

What initially drew you to painting/digital art and how has your approach developed over time?
My father, Mr Wukun Waṉambi, inspired me to make art. I saw how he used digital technology to animate his minytji of the wakun (mullet fish). Animation gave life to the minytji. The themes and style of my artwork are based on my clan’s minytji that my Marrakulu clan have always painted onto bark with ochres. I use these designs as a foundation for my ideas. If I feel tired of my minytji, I start fresh, painting with a digital brush on a tablet in Photoshop – the same design, but different style and colours.

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?
The artwork that I loved creating was Gurka’wuy, which represented the sacred rock in Gurka’wuy Bay, surrounded by the saltwater. It got an honourable mention at the NATSIAA 2024. It felt good creating that artwork.

Could you tell us about the artwork Marrakulu Monuk that will be exhibited at Painting Now 2025?

Marrakulu Monuk represents the saltwater at my homeland of Gurka’wuy. This saltwater belongs to my Marrakulu clan. Instead of painting Marrakulu Monuk onto barks with ochres, I wanted to make it digital while staying true to our traditions. Using Photoshop and a tablet, I painted this minytji using the ochre colours of my father’s bark paintings, and I made a digital brush to be like marwat, the handmade, thin-hair brush Yolŋu artists use. I then animated our minytji using many techniques to show the infinite swirling motion that occurs in our clan’s saltwater at Gurka’wuy.

Where did you begin with these paintings, and what were some of the ideas and experiences that shaped them?
My father inspired me to make paintings like this. He was the first to take minytji that are normally painted onto barks and burial poles and make them move. So he gave me the idea, by looking at his artwork. His vision motivated me to use digital technology with our Marrakulu minytji.

The name of Marrakulu Monuk is Gudultja. There is a story about Gudultja and Wulamba, who is the mari’mi gapu (grandmother saltwater). The story is that these two saltwaters sit together and is a metaphor for the grandchild and grandparent relationship – how they care for each other and are always there for one another.

I enjoy and feel comfortable using digital technology to create my artwork. In the future I will keep creating artwork this way and show the world what Yolŋu art looks like animated.

How do you hope viewers will engage with Marrakulu Monuk?
Some people will understand, or maybe not, how important it is to Yolŋu that every clan has their own sacred designs. We only paint our clan’s minytji. From our great-great grandparents to the younger generations, the knowledge is passed on to the young from the past. I would like to continue doing artwork like this in the future, to show and teach other Yolŋu artists – inspire them to learn and bring their clan’s minytji to life.

PAINTING NOW | Columbiere Tipungwuti

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PAINTING NOW | Columbiere Tipungwuti

  • Artist
    Columbiere Tipungwuti
  • Dates
    4—28 Dec 2025
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

Columbiere Tipungwuti paints the celestial figures of Tiwi ceremonial culture – Japarra, the moon-man who brought mortality to the world, and japalinga, the stars whose ochred forms adorn dancers’ bodies in ceremony and yoyi. “I paint Japarra because I want to tell that story from long ago – what he did on earth and keep that story going,” says the artist. The story tells of Japarra’s fateful encounter with Purukuparli and Wai-ai, which led to the death of their child and Japarra’s ascent to the sky, where his white light reminds the Tiwi people of the cycles of life and death.

“In parlingarri – old time – Japarra saw the family out bush; the baby died from the sun, and Japarra wanted to take him up for three days and bring him back alive. But the father said, ‘Karlu’ – ‘no’. After fighting, Japarra flew up and stayed in the sky to become the moon and look down on the whole world. Now everyone around the world can’t come back; they must follow that father and his son and die when it is their time.”

On bark and canvas, Tipungwuti renders the ancestral moon-man in stark black and white, his face striking, solemn and compelling. “Japarra is white – the moon-man has a white body. All the stars are white and the moon is white too,” he explains of his elemental palette, made from white ochre gathered on Country at Wurankuwu.

“I want to share my story and the story of my painting with people from all over the world,” says Tipungwuti, who also has a background in dance – performing ballet in Sydney in the 1980s and yoyi on the Tiwi Islands.

A finalist in the 2024 National Emerging Art Prize, Tipungwuti showed his paintings to great acclaim this year at UNSW Galleries in Parlingarri Amintiya Ningani Awungarra: Old and New, a widely celebrated exhibition curated by José Da Silva with Jilamara Arts. In Painting Now, Tipungwuti continues this lineage, transforming Tiwi creation stories into powerful, luminous images that bridge earth, sky and spirit.

“In years gone by, there was a strong Tiwi tradition of producing nude figurative ironwood carvings that tell [Japarra’s] story,” writes cultural critic and researcher Tristen Harwood. “Tipungwuti’s paintings draw on these important cultural influences to create innovative works grounded in his knowledge of the old stories and connection to longstanding practices of storytelling.”

For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Explore more from Painting Now HERE.

What were some of your earlier artistic influences?
My close family did not paint, but when I grew up I was thinking about that story Purukuparli, Wai-ai and Jinani (Tiwi Creation Story) when they were out bush. When Jilamara opened in 1989 I started painting here. I have lived at Pirlangimpi and painted at Munupi Arts in between, but still going here at Jilamara.

What initially drew you to painting and how has your approach developed over time?
When both Tiwi people and murrintawi (non-Tiwi people) ask me why you doing this Japarra (moonman) painting I tell them that this is my story. Japarra offered to bring that baby back to life after three days, but because the father (Purukuparli) of the son (Jinani) said “no”, we all have to follow that baby and die when it is our time.

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?
When I decide to stop in Milikapiti and work at Jilamara full-time and not move around so much between the communities on the islands – Garden Point (Pirlangimpi) and Nguiu (Wurrumiyanga). Then I started making Japarra paintings and it has gone on from there. Last month I did my first Jilamara trip to Sydney and danced at the opening at UNSW.

Could you tell us about the body of work you have created for Painting Now?
I’ve been working on my painting for a long time, but the Japarra (moonman) painting I make now is from the last couple of years. I now only use white ochre because Japarra – the moonman – is white and the stars are white too.

Is there a narrative or throughline in your Painting Now series?
The story of the painting is from parlingarri (old time) when there were no cars or houses on the land. The story is of Japarra when he saw the family Purukuparli, Wai-ai and Jinani when he was out bush. Then he went away with that woman and her son Jinani died from the sun. He then fought with the father one. Japarra, he wanted to bring the baby back to life, take him up for three days and bring him back alive, but the father said “Karlu” – “no”. After a while they were fighting and Japarra flew up and stayed up in the sky to become the moon and look down on the whole world. So now everyone all around the world can’t come back, they have to follow that father and his son and die when it is their time.

How do you hope viewers will engage with your work in Painting Now?
I want murrintawi (non-Tiwi people) to look at that painting and learn about the story about long time ago on the Tiwi Islands. I want to share that story with the world.

I want to share my story and the story of my painting with people from all over the world. I haven’t always been a painter. I’ve also been a dancer. Ballet dancer in Sydney in the 1980s and also a dancer here on the Tiwis – my totem is Jarranga (buffalo) and I dance this at ceremonies. Now I am a painter and can share my story through my Japarra (moonman) paintings.

PAINTING NOW | Jo Chew

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PAINTING NOW | Jo Chew

  • Artist
    Jo Chew
  • Dates
    4—28 Dec 2025
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

In the painted worlds of Nipaluna/Hobart-based artist Jo Chew, built forms become vessels for an open-ended meditation on vulnerability, hopefulness, loss and longing. “A poem doesn’t need to describe everything and a song doesn’t need to make sense – I feel it can be the same with a painting,” says the artist, whose vibrant, sun-dappled paintings derive from collaged compositions; fragmentary photographs, drawings and found references spliced together “in the hope of finding something that speaks to me.”

This process achieves an almost trompe-l’œil effect, with her large-scale paintings retaining a collagistic sense of pictorial layering in space – an illusory interweaving of paper and paint, memory and material. In doing so, her practice breathes new life into the medium, in step with the curatorial ambitions of Painting Now.

Despite the work’s compelling ambiguities, themes slowly coalesce through Chew’s Painting Now series, in which house-like structures repeat in various guises and take on poetic resonance. Whether temporary and improvisational – tents and makeshift A-frames – or suggesting past visions of a future utopia – modernist dream houses and geodesic domes – her recurring pitched forms invoke a universal language of shelter, inviting reflections on our longing for refuge and a place to call home.

Brought to life during her final months in her long-term home, Chew’s exploration of how we dwell and what we treasure is tinged with a quiet acceptance of transience. “It doesn’t mean things or places can’t be treasured,” she says. “Just that nothing is really ours to keep.” The artist notes a nostalgic thread running through her constructed images: “A desire to get something back that we can’t quite retrieve,” she says. “But they’re not dark or depressing; I think there’s an appreciation for something from the past and an optimism that something similar might still be found. Many of my works this year have a feeling of something hidden and forming, suggesting a period of rest and reflection; cocoon-like, perhaps.”

For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Explore more from Painting Now HERE.

What were some of your earlier artistic influences?

From an early age I was encouraged to be curious – to look at and find wonder in small things and the natural world. My parents and grandparents were, and are, resourceful and creative. Both of their homes were full of books and art and treasured objects. I remember beachcombing on Bruny Island and Dolphin Sands – collecting shells, seedpods and sea urchin endoskeletons. Treasuring these small ‘homes’ fed my creative impulse. I can’t help but see their influence on my paintings of shelters and dwellings.

What initially drew you to painting and how has your approach developed over time?

Painting is magical. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m always amazed when looking at paintings – they can be two years old or two hundred years old or two thousand years old and somehow they feel current and alive. I love how painting distils time – the movement of a hand and the thought process of the maker still sit on the surface and in the layers of these objects. It’s like a direct link to a moment in time, a place on earth and the thinking of a person that never ceases to amaze me.

I’m particularly drawn to paintings that are more than descriptive; I’m interested in internal worlds as much as external. Music and poetry have been influential and I try to think visually in these ways. A poem doesn’t need to describe everything and a song doesn’t need to make sense – I feel it can be the same with a painting. Shelters and dwellings are recurrent themes. This has, at times, taken on a form of social or political commentary, but more often than not they stand in for the way we dwell and how we find ourselves in the world. They’re often temporary in nature – either in the structure itself or in the way it might be painted (with a kind of fragility or brevity). They are about our experience – which is huge and saturated but also so incredibly fleeting and small in the scheme of things.

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?

I’ve had some wonderful moments – being selected for or winning prizes in recent years has been hugely encouraging. However, I think the biggest creative breakthroughs came with moving back home to Tasmania and throwing myself into research. Those years were both healing and expanding for me as a person and for my work. It was a huge luxury to have the time and space and support to think deeply and experiment and paint.

Could you tell us about the body of work you have created for Painting Now?

I began with collages – this is how I usually begin – collecting and combining pictures, drawings, paintings; extracting parts and overlaying or weaving together images in the hope of finding something that speaks to me. During the process of painting them I was conscious that the time in my current home was drawing to a close. I will have been in this house for seven years – the longest I’ve ever been in a place in my adult life. It’s been a crucial touchstone for me and my children, but I was aware it wouldn’t be forever. I’ve been thinking about the importance of holding onto things lightly. It doesn’t mean things, or places, can’t be treasured – just that nothing is really ours to keep.

Is there a narrative or throughline in your Painting Now series?

When naming these works I realised a lot of the names revolve around ideas of mapping – it’s no coincidence given maps have loomed large in my day job at Mona library recently. But I also think they’re about quiet observation – scoping out a way forward, but biding my time. Many of my works this year have a feeling of something hidden and forming, suggesting a period of rest and reflection; cocoon-like, perhaps.

How do you hope viewers will engage with your work in Painting Now?

I hope they will find something pleasurable in these paintings. Perhaps they’ll suggest a memory, association or a feeling for the viewer. In my mind there’s something deeply nostalgic about these works – a desire to get something back that we can’t quite retrieve. But they’re not dark or in any way depressing; I think there’s an acknowledgement and appreciation for something from the past and an optimism that something similar might still be found.

PAINTING NOW | Brenton Drechsler

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PAINTING NOW | Brenton Drechsler

  • Artist
    Brenton Drechsler
  • Dates
    4—28 Dec 2025
  • Catalogue
    Download now
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

South Australian contemporary painter Brenton Drechsler joins Painting Now 2025 with his most ambitious body of work to date. A two-time National Emerging Art Prize finalist who recently joined the stable of artists represented by Michael Reid Northern Beaches and Southern Highlands after a succession of sold-out solo shows at both spaces, Drechsler has taken Painting Now as an opportunity to significantly dial up his work’s scale and scope while honing the distinctive visual language for which he is already widely celebrated. On his largest canvases yet, Drechsler’s work attains a newly cinematic heft, deepening the ongoing dialogue between visibility and concealment – belonging and displacement – that emerges from his queer subjectivity and animates his visually dazzling, conceptually rich practice.

Within these expansive and arresting compositions, recurring motifs appear in deliberately “foreign” spaces: vintage cars, building facades and flashes of the artist’s trademark green-and-white stripe. “The stripes stand in for my physical self,” he says. “They take up space and attract attention – things that don’t come naturally to me.” That double movement – to stand out and blend in at once – threads through the series with quiet persistence.

A curatorial prompt to consider the visual language of auteurs such as Wes Anderson became a springboard for a bolder palette and dramatic sensibilities befitting the work’s broader scale. Here, punchy pinks and cardamom reds meet tender tonal harmonies, while precise drawing loosens into gestural passages; “mistakes” remain visible as signs of the artist’s hand. “Dean encouraged me to look at cinematic devices and framing,” says Drechsler. “It opened me up to composition in new ways – to big reds, saturated pinks and how colour can create mood.”

Drechsler describes these adventures in colour as both exciting and somewhat nerve-racking. “Are they too much?” he wonders. “Maybe. But that tension is part of what it means to make art as an emerging queer artist. The overarching message is that we all fit, wherever we are, and that we are valued and belong in any room we occupy. Painting taught me that.”

For enquiries, please email dean@michaelreid.com.au

Explore more from Painting Now HERE.

What were some of your earlier artistic influences?

My early influences and what got me interested in painting were the painters I admired in major state galleries, like Cecily Brown, Egon Schiele, Clarice Beckett and Marsden Hartley. As I moved deeper into my visual art studies, my influences became more contemporary. Artists such as Kym Luetwyler, Richard Lewer, Clara Adolphs, William McKinnon and Salman Toor continue to shape the way I use paint and how I think about storytelling in my work.

What initially drew you to painting and how has your approach developed over time?

At first, I was drawn to the freedom of paint. I started my creative life in the fashion industry, where pattern making and sewing often came down to the millimetre. Throwing paint around felt like the opposite of that. My approach is rooted in queer phenomenology. I see the physical qualities of painting and the act of applying paint to canvas as an extension of my identity and sense of self. I can’t resist letting the paint guide its own outcome: thick here, transparent there. I’m also fond of leaving the “mistakes” visible on the canvas for others to enjoy, and some of the initial mark making in ink and charcoal, which speaks to opacity in queer storytelling.

 

What have been some of your favourite career experiences?

Graduating art school with First Class Honours was a major highlight, as was exhibiting in beautiful semi-rural communities like Ballina, Newport and, most recently, Mudgee. Engaging with community members and other artists is my jam. Finding people who speak a similar visual language and happily nerd out on all things paint is really cool.

A breakthrough in my practice came through repetition. Learning to recognise my own methods and what helps me achieve a resolved painting has been key to producing consistent work and building confidence in my abilities. It allowed me to find my voice, so to speak.

Could you tell us about the body of work you have created for Painting Now?

The works in Painting Now 2025 grew from a now much-cherished conversation I had on a windy, wintry day with Dean Andersen, the exhibition’s curator – me on the South Coast of South Australia and Dean in Sydney. Dean planted a seed for me: to research the cinematic worlds of Wes Anderson. He encouraged me to reflect on the visual devices and themes that appear in his films and how they might echo elements of my own practice. It turned out to be a gift that kept giving, widening my sense of palette, scale and composition.

Is there a narrative or throughline in your Painting Now series?

The narrative centres on recurring motifs placed in foreign spaces, which is a running trope in my practice. The vintage cars and the green-and-white stripe that appear in each composition speak to the experiences I’ve often had as a queer person trying to find a place within Australian heteronormative environments. Trying to stand out and blend in at the same time is a common contradictory thread that runs through each of my works.

How do you hope viewers will engage with your work in Painting Now?

Above all, I hope viewers enjoy a fresh painterly perspective and a playful use of bold colour. I have never gone this big before, so I hope viewers can enjoy the larger scale – especially Twickenham (The Art Teacher). The cadmium red and big saturated pinks in this series are both exciting and a little nerve-racking. Are they too much? Maybe. But maybe that tension is part of what it means to make art as an emerging queer artist.

I hope the series resonates with both collectors and the public, especially those who recognise the underlying narrative of holding your ground in uncomfortable environments. The overarching message is that we all fit, wherever we are, and that we are valued and belong in any room we occupy. Painting has taught me that.

Private Collection

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Private Collection

  • Artist
    Sidney Nolan, William Dobell, Elioth Gruner, Arthur Boyd, Tom Roberts
  • Dates
    17 Nov—12 Dec 2025
  • Gallery Location
    Eora / Sydney

Spanning the late 19th to mid 20th centuries, this private art collection from Perth, Western Australia, has been steadily assembled over the past twenty years.

The purpose of this collection has been to delight and intrigue its owner. How each artist delved into their subject has been of central importance to their acquisition. The use of the entire surface, the subject, the play of negative space, and the artist’s unique technique were all carefully considered and contrasted prior to acquisition. Chosen for their strength as art museum–quality examples, the works were selected for their artistic merit rather than the prominence of their makers’ signatures. Each artwork has been appraised as a fine example of its period. Every piece has been collected with an eye for the object itself—not, as can often be the case, in the spirit of the trophy collector who pursues a signature above all else.

After decades of collecting with vigour and curiosity, the collector–now in a downsizing phase–has decided to release a portion of the collection to the market. This presents a rare opportunity to acquire fresh and compelling artworks that would sit comfortably within any art museum or private collection.

Please consider.

– Michael Reid OAM

 

For enquiries, please email hughholm@michaelreid.com.au

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