Why do you choose to work with paint?
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In a world where you can work with any technology or material, why do you choose to work with paint? This was the question posed to nine artists from around Australia, who discuss the medium’s enduring relevance.
Abdul Abdullah
“When I finished undergrad in 2008, I considered myself exclusively a painter, but in 2011 I was embroiled in a wave of negative pushback to my Archibald entry of Waleed Aly, so I drew from my journalism studies to explore more politically motivated work. In doing so I exploited what I saw as a cognitive bias that lent photography and video an inherently real quality—they are understood as evidence of something that actually happened. There is an assumption of the fantastical in painting, even though these other mediums have as much opportunity for contrivance. I really enjoyed working with these other mediums and particularly enjoyed working with friends like David Charles Collins. But since 2020, I have returned almost exclusively to painting. I find it very democratic. Every school in the country, no matter how rich or poor, has Chromacryls in the cupboard.”
Christopher Bassi
“I am sure that at this stage a commitment to painting has something to do with my sensibilities and the very idiosyncratic ways that I need to think, take in and figure out the world. For example, at any one time, a painting can be about many things: something academic, imaginary, relational, visceral or personal. The process itself requires time, an often-unspoken space between maker and artwork that is a flux of critical thinking and dreaming, full of self-doubt, failures and hidden successes. Simply put, painting has become my method for making sense of the world and understanding myself within it.
Painting is a dialogue and to paint a picture today is to be acutely aware of its historical backdrop. As a Meriam and Yupungathi man, I’m left grappling with the medium’s legacies as a colonial, patriarchal institution rooted in European ideals of ordering and visioning the world. But rather than working for the sake of subversion, I end up asking myself, ‘What, if anything, can this medium do for me?’ Through a type of critical re-imagining of the potential of painting, it then becomes an opening, and also transforms to become the language to speak to history in other more complex and personal ways.”
Dean Cross
“The material pleasure of working with paint is one of the primary drivers of my interest in it: the tactility, the sensuousness of it, even the smell. On a conceptual level, I think a lot about painting in the context of the Australian landscape tradition and how my work fits into that continuum, as well as how my work fits into a non-Western painting tradition, a First Nations tradition. I’m very interested in the overlaps and digressions of those two lineages. For me, painting provides a rich opportunity to speak about—and to speak to—being alive in the twenty-first century, in all its complications and difficulties, and all the great things, too.
But maybe that’s just a complicated way of saying: I just love painting. I love making paintings. I have always loved painting. I’ve been looking at paintings all my life, but a good painting still has the power to stop me in my tracks.”
Gian Manik
“I work with paint because it’s something that I feel capable and confident with. From a young age, I've been exposed to paintings and paint by my grandparents, my mother and teachers. It never felt like learning the medium was annoying or tiresome. Like any muscle, I’ve trained the paint one so that it works proficiently.
Although I love and understand the medium, it still challenges me—I consider pushing my study of it to be part of my practice. That is, I feel like there’s enough there for me to bend the medium in order to best execute concepts. My ideas shift often, so the medium moves with them. I find the process of matching techniques and concepts therapeutic in both the studio and exhibitions.
I really love all kinds of art and artists, but I feel that painting is something that I can use to express my art in an honest way.”
Jelena Telecki
“It is always interesting (not to say perplexing) to be asked to explain why you are working with paint when there are so many other available options. In addition, being asked why you are a painter often entails the unspoken implication of painting's supposed status as an obsolete art practice. Yet after 20 years of working as a painter, I feel that there is nothing ‘special’ about choosing to work with paint, and that discussion surrounding relevance of painting is irrelevant at its best, and tiresome at its worst.
Painting—like any other art form or discipline—is exactly that: an art form, a way to make art and in doing so come closer to discovering or understanding something that may not be otherwise possible. For me, painting is a process that is flexible and allows for experimentation; it does not have to be overtly pre-planned and can always surprise you, all of which are the reasons why I am an artist who happens to be a painter, and not the other way around.”
Khadim Ali
“I work with paint because it connects deeply to both my heritage and the ancient traditions that inspire my practice. My ancestors come from Bamiyan, Afghanistan, where the world’s oldest oil paintings were discovered—and are still visible on cave walls after nearly 1,500 years. This enduring legacy informs my practice, making every brushstroke a connection to that history.
I’m also inspired by Persian and Mughal miniature paintings. I appreciate their precision, vibrant colours and intricate details. Yet paint offers me more than just tradition—it provides freedom and fluidity to explore both the past and present. It lets me blend echoes of history with contemporary emotions, making the medium feel alive and personal.
Paint is inherently poetic. Every human emotion has a colour, and through paint, I can capture the full spectrum of feelings—joy, sorrow, nostalgia. It’s a quick and handy way to visualise my imagination, allowing ideas to flow seamlessly from thought to canvas.
Though I also work with modern mediums like sound, storytelling and the intergenerational practices of embroidery and tapestry, paint remains central to my art. It offers a directness and flexibility that allow me to fully express the complexity of my identity while honouring the timelessness of this ancient medium.”
Louise Zhang
“In this age of technological advancement, there’s even more reason to paint. We can’t lose that tactility, the art of the handmade. Digital methods can add to or simplify the process of artmaking, but this can overshadow the practice of experimenting and imagining—to me, technology remains just a tool.
Painting endures because it fulfills an innate human desire to work with our hands. Cooking, crafting, building houses; the act of making is deeply rooted in our humanity. Painting contrasts sharply with the fast-paced demands of modern life, making it more important than ever. The way paint dries, the way it’s applied, the varnishes—it all requires patience, time and risk. Artists can spend hours in the studio applying paint, sitting back, reflecting, approaching it again. Unlike digital mediums, there’s no undo button in painting; once applied, paint alters the canvas irrevocably. The decision-making process—and the accidents and ‘mistakes’ that might occur—create a depth that you can’t manufacture through digital means.
My passion for painting is also driven by history and culture. My grandfather’s calligraphy table where he studied and practiced remains in his home in China. His brushwork, the act of him applying ink with a brush, is evidence of the tactile. It connects me to him, and this human element defines the art of painting.”
Marikit Santiago
“I think the simple answer to why I choose paint is because, frankly, I’m good at it. I have full control over the image I can produce if I work with paint. Working with oil allows me to flex my full range of skill over colour, technique and composition. It allows me to fully realise the images I visualise. I also think that audiences will always be impressed by what we can create with our hands.
It’s also an accessible medium for my children to work with and, when I was a child myself, working with paint always felt like a serious undertaking, a medium that required time and consideration. So in my early experiences of art making, working with paint felt like a privilege.
I have always admired the paintings from the Western classical canon and my work continues to be influenced by this period of art history. I still aspire to create an image with the skill of the Renaissance artists.
But really, I think painting chose me. I have tried creating work with different media without success—I’ve even tried not being an artist at all. But I always end up painting. I just can't help it.”
Prudence Flint
“Painting has limits and specific conditions and because of this it offers up freedom. It has proven to be an unmatched portal into other worlds. Surprisingly robust, it survives beyond the millennium. It is intimately connected to the hand and the reflexes. It smears, blends and shines; it is slick, rough and bumpy; the consistency of food and bodily excretions. It demands a million unconscious decisions, all of which have inexplicable effects. Painting has served institutions of power, representing status and wealth, but is simultaneously defined by its intrinsic generosity and endurance.”
This article was originally published in Art Monthly Australasia’s Summer 2024-25 edition, Issue 341. Purchase a copy here.
Image credits: Art Sodsirikul (Abdul Abdullah); Joe Ruckli (Christopher Bassi); Dario Hardaker (Dean Cross); Alex Kelaart (Gian Manik); Felicity Jenkins/Art Gallery of New South Wales (Jelena Telecki); Yasa Ali (Khadim Ali); Garry Trinh (Louise Zhang and Marikit Santiago); Karina Dias Pires (Prudence Flint)
