Creative Parents: Georgie Elliott (contemporary artist and mother of three)
"It’s good for them to witness creativity being woven into everyday life."
This is a lovely and long interview with Tasmania/ Lutruwita-based Georgie Elliot, who is inspired by nature, and as someone who has moved around a lot, she has endless inspiration found in the multifaceted Australian landscape. I want to save all your attention span to Georgie’s interview, so I’ll keep my intro short and sweet! Like me, Georgie has a 4 and 2 year old, but also a one-year-old! I’m so amazed and in awe of her ability to keep practising art and make time for this interview.
From architect to exhibition designer to ceramicist to painting, Georgie’s story shows how often an art practice isn’t linear (and is one of the reasons I’m so fascinated learning, researching, and writing about artists). Like the Dutch 17th-century ‘still-life’ paintings, Georgie’s works are inspired by the connection to the joy of everyday moments. “What a beautiful idea, appreciating the small, humble things that ultimately shape our lives,” she says.
Every week I choose a quote from the interview for the subtitle, and this week’s I think is almost at the heart of what I’m aiming for with this series. How our creative decisions impact our children, how we can find time for creativity, and, in general, inspire a world to be more interested in nature, the small things, and beauty. Plus, the photos Georgie supplied are so uplifting… I feel like all mothers wish for this sense of remoteness and simplicity. To just be with the children and the landscape, and funnel our creativity into our art (well, I do at least!).
Here is the Q&A of Georgie Elliot, contemporary artist and mother of three:
Can you tell us about your practice — what do you create, with what, and why?
I paint. I use acrylics mostly for their drying speed—I work quickly, and I like the looseness and forgiving nature of acrylics. I paint whatever I feel drawn to—the landscape, sea, light, colours, atmosphere, flora, objects, and children that surround me.
I love oil paints, but I can’t be trusted with them. I’ve tried them, and because of how slow-drying they are, I’ve ended up with paint all over my clothes and the house… throw in three very little kids, and it’s just not practical right now. I’ve experimented with making my own pigments out of earth, clay, and charcoal, and plan to return to this one day.
How did you get here?
I have painted since I was very young—it’s something that has always grounded me. After school, I ended up studying architecture, with minors in art history and sustainability. I had so many interests and no idea what direction to take them. I learned a lot studying architecture. I learned about the interplay of light, positive and negative space, building atmosphere, noticing landscape and vistas, and creating ‘moments’ within a space. All of this has carried through into my painting.
I worked for a while in the architectural industry, but the job that was pivotal in my trajectory into making art was as an exhibition designer at the Queensland Art Gallery/Gallery of Modern Art. I absolutely loved it! Designing for and amongst the work of great artists inspired my own practice greatly.
After a few years in the architectural industry, I couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in my head that was pulling me in another direction. I really wanted to find a way to earn a living in a way that satisfied me more creatively, and perhaps gave me more autonomy over my days. I wanted to physically make something with my hands. I had been taking pottery lessons, which really became a salve for me, and I wondered if I could take this further. I adore the idea and the art of pottery—shaping earth to make something functional and beautiful feels so ancient, and so worthwhile.
So, I gave up my job in architecture and moved interstate to do an intensive live-in internship with a renowned Australian potter. She taught me a lot about the dedication it takes to make your craft your livelihood. Her unwavering commitment to the process inspired me, and I often think back on the hours and hours we spent sanding and trimming (she used a technique called saggar firing, which resulted in amazing patterns formed by the carbonisation of various natural objects… but also means you have to sand off the charred remains from the pottery—agonising work). I suppose this experience showed me that it was possible (with a lot of hard work) to make a living from your craft.
After my pottery internship, my partner (now husband), Tom, and I lived on Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island) while he was completing some training for work. I worked remotely in an admin role (paid the bills, and I’m very grateful for this because it meant I could focus my creative attention on what was next), and I was just so inspired by my natural surroundings. I was drawn to painting again, and I explored capturing the coastal flora in lots of mediums. My first painting sold through a local art gallery, and I thought—well, maybe this is actually possible! I kept painting, and selling work on social media and through galleries and interior stores. I feel incredibly lucky to still have those platforms to allow me to work and create while raising small children.
What inspires your work? Any particular art or design periods or philosophies?
I grew up around art—my grandparents were lovers of art and collected early works by Margaret Olley, Albert Namatjira, Ray Crooke, Charles Blackman, and many more when they were just emerging artists, and I still draw much inspiration from the artists that I was exposed to in my childhood, particularly Olley and Crooke.
I studied art history at university and was always fascinated by the philosophy behind the 17th-century Dutch concept of the ‘still-life’—elevating the mundane, domestic, and transient to be something of importance, to symbolise the fleetingness of life. I fell in love with this philosophy, which celebrates the objects that make up the fabric of our everyday existence. What a beautiful idea, appreciating the small, humble things that ultimately shape our lives. I think about this every time a simple bunch of flowers collected from the garden brings me joy, we gorge on fruit from trees in our garden, or I feel called to paint a simple scene of my kids exploring at the beach. I’m also forever collecting handmade ceramics to bring a sacredness to everyday rituals.
When did you know you wanted to become a creative? Did you have an influential figure growing up?
I always wanted to make something for a living—I used to sew a lot when I was a kid and would sell my creations at school (under the table!). My dad is an architectural illustrator, and he started his career using watercolours. He taught me from a very young age the principles of colour mixing, light and shadow, perspective, and he and my mum (who is extremely gifted when it comes to colour and design) are still who I turn to for advice when I’m stuck on a painting. My parents have always fed my creative side—I am incredibly lucky to have had them in my corner for every single move in my creative journey.
What have been some of the highlights of your career? Do you have a favourite project you’ve worked on, or are working on?
During my time working in architecture, I got to travel to remote sites. Two places in particular that have stayed with me were in remote Kenya and the Kimberleys in North Western Australia. These sites had a sacredness to them that really made their imprint on me.
With painting, I think my favourite part has been the connections I’ve made with people buying or commissioning my work. The stories people share, and their willingness to put their trust in me to capture something important in their life has been really fulfilling. On a very superficial level, though, seeing my paintings in magazines for the first time was a total pinch-me moment. I loved it!
Who is in your family, and what are their ages?
My husband, Tom, and I have been together since we were 20—we are kindred spirits. He happens to be a very talented (closet) photographer, so any decent photography on my social media is thanks to him. He also studied creative writing, so we workshop ideas for collections and projects together. We have three young children—our son is four and a half, our eldest daughter is two and a half, and our youngest daughter just turned one. I also have three sisters who are my closest friends, and their children feel like my own (even though we live so far apart).
Where are you based, and why did you choose this area? It would be great to reflect on your own home with your art collection and design choices…
We live in a small town in the North of Tasmania. We have moved a lot over the years—mostly for Tom’s work, but also because we have always wanted to live somewhere a little bit wild. We have always felt drawn to Tasmania, so we made the decision to move down here a few years ago. While we won’t be in this little town forever, as my husband’s work continues to move us along, we are very content here. The house we are renting is perched at the top of a hill on a big block of land, overlooking the ocean, with lots of fruiting trees, red soil, fresh air, and plenty of good climbing trees for our 4-year-old. Over the years, we have lived in rural and coastal Queensland, South Australia, remote southern Tasmania, and on King Island in the middle of the Bass Strait. These wild and beautiful places have shaped much of my palette and been an inspiration for many of my latest works.
Our life has been quite nomadic over the past few years. The constancy of our movement to new towns has taught me a lot about what I do and don’t actually need, and has forced me to challenge my natural instinct to be a homebody. I love beautiful things and am a total bowerbird—always collecting things I love. These possessions are mostly packed up in storage currently, and I’ve surprised myself with how little I actually miss them. What I really miss is being around my family and old friends back in Brisbane, but I also love exploring this beautiful country with our little gang, and carving our own way in the world.
Has becoming a parent changed your practice?
Yes! I paint much more quickly now, ha! Actually, my Dad recently commented that my brushstrokes have become much looser, and I think that’s because I don’t have the time to overthink things. I paint intuitively, exactly what I want to paint in the moment, and mostly in waves of inspiration (and stolen time) from the corner of our living room.
Of course, it’s also changed some of my themes. With each baby I have had the urge to paint something of the closeness, uniqueness, and warmth of that newborn time. I think my only figurative work has been of my babies and children. I’ve also painted huge abstracts in response to pregnancy, childbirth, and loss—abstraction seems to be able to encapsulate the big themes in a way that representational painting couldn’t for me. Themes about time, the transience of life, the cycles of nature, and the interconnectedness of things feel like they need big canvases and a loose, abstract approach.
What does your day-to-day look like, and how has this changed from previously having children?
My day is just absolutely non-stop children, baby, and housework from dawn until dusk at the moment. I know this is a blip in time and won’t last forever, but having three children under the age of five has required every part of me. We haven’t had much support with childcare in the remote places we live, and to add to the chaos, my husband has a relatively demanding job. We are very lucky to have made some incredible friends along the way who have truly looked after us—especially when we were new to town and craved some connection. I’ll never forget the kindness of a simple shepherd’s pie from a new friend when we had just arrived in this town (freshly postpartum with our third baby). That type of kindness makes an imprint, and we are now firmly friends for life.
When I do paint, it’s in amongst the rhythms of our daily life. Sometimes I’ll get a chunk in while the baby sleeps if my husband has the older two off on an adventure, but even then—it’s rare! To carve out painting time, I have to ignore the piles of washing, dirty dishes, the never-ending list of chores and errands, and paint when the moment presents itself. I have to take little pockets of time when I can… like when naps miraculously line up. This can mean that paintings take months to finish, but I feel very lucky to be able to work and fill my creative cup while looking after my babies.
Do you have any advice for creative parents?
I am so in the thick of parenting tiny children that I don’t think I’m in any position to give advice! But I will say that most of my creative frustration used to come from the expectation that I would have dedicated time to create. I have learned to surrender to the unpredictability of tiny children as much as possible (naps are never long when you need them to be) and use the windows within the chaos to create something little by little. I realised recently that if I had a studio right now, I would never, ever paint. I just don’t have that space in my day. I paint with my children around me. Small moments at a time, talking to them about what I’m doing (when there isn’t a snack being requested or a bottom to be wiped). I think it’s good for them to witness creativity being woven into everyday life.
What are your thoughts on the approach of the industry to parents? Have you found support or lack of?
I think any industry can be tricky for working parents. There is so much nuance and complexity to this question, and I feel like I can only comment from my lived experience.
I have found collectors and galleries/ shops to be incredibly understanding about the parenting juggling act. I am always upfront about my situation, and my collectors seem to realise that good art doesn’t come from being rushed or forced. Having babies has altered the way I do things. I rarely take on commissions or make exhibition promises since having my third child—it works best for me at the moment to create the works first when I’m inspired and then put them out into the world and hope they sell. It’s a bit risky, but I think it allows me to produce better work, which is more likely to sell in the end.
Do you have a mantra/ quote that keeps you going?
I suppose what I always come back to is something along the lines of: everything is transient—in life and in art. A tricky day of parenting, a sleepless night, a lull in creative energy are all fleeting. Or on the flip side, my children’s littleness is transient, as is our time in our home on the hill, as are the magical surges in creativity. I’ve come to trust in the natural timing of things, the ebb and flow of creativity and of life. I suppose living such a nomadic life in recent years, with little kids, has really schooled me in the inevitability of change and forced me to become more comfortable with this, but it definitely hasn’t come easily.
LOVE GEORGIE'S WORK!