Kate Vassallo // Meet the Artist (Zig Zag Q&A Series)
June 2023
Our upcoming exhibition at The Mixing Room Gallery—Zig Zag—is opening this Friday June 30. It’s a chromatic exhibition of abstract painting by artists Al Munro, Hannah Beasley, Ham Darroch and Kate Vassallo.
In anticipation of the exhibition, we’ve sat down with the exhibiting artists to discuss their artworks, philosophy of beauty, and perspectives on Canberra as a place for creative practice.
If you missed the first conversation with Hannah Beasley, you can check that out here.
For the second instalment, we’re chatting with local contemporary artist Kate Vassallo, whose creative output is characterised by the ambient warmth emanating from paintings which she describes as “watery pools of layered colour” as well as meticulous drawings brought to life by chance - and rules.
Kate’s ability to create works which provide a private moment for personal reflection speaks to the heart of her belief that “abstraction doesn’t give people a message: they can take whatever they need from it.” Her philosophy of abstraction exhibits a timeless sensibility and her work, though minimalist, exhibits a point of difference precisely because it is neither harsh, nor direct.
We hope you enjoy this Q&A series and hope to see you at the Zig Zag Opening Night at The Mixing Room Gallery on Friday 30 June 2023. Book tickets for the opening night here.
In 2023 you are embarking on your largest project to date, which is to create architecturally-integrated paintings for the Canberra Hospital expansion. What is your vision for this artwork and what role do you think art has to play in our built environments?
The project I am making is called ‘Bloom’ and I’m taking both my colours and inspiration from local plant life in Canberra, including flowers and fruits. I’ve put the colour palette together based on that. It’s ultimately a suite of paintings - though I am referring to it as a single work. Basically I’m doing all of these paintings, which will be digitised and reproduced in different architectural spaces. The final artwork itself is a digital installation. I haven’t done anything digital in a long time, so it’s a wonderful opportunity to revisit this way of working.
The paintings definitely have a handmade feel to them which I find compelling. It’s really a hybrid but still gives the feeling of a painting, especially given my use of watery pools of layered colour. I’m using techniques and processes I have already developed, but it’s still the biggest thing I’ve ever worked on, so it’s a lot to wrangle.
I just finished my paintings last week and have done a few test mocks-up digitally against different sites within the hospital. It’s shifting from the ‘studio way’ of making into something else. It’s a great opportunity to push myself and change how I think about what I’m doing. I am trying to ignore how daunting it is. As I make and digitise the paintings, I have been thinking about how I can use that digital output to its fullest extent. The cool thing about digitisation is that it reveals the construction and underbelly of the paintings; things you’d not normally get to see if the work wasn’t digitised.
How would you describe your experience studying at the Australian National University’s School of Art, where you graduated with first class honours and a University Medal?
It was pretty good. I was super young. When I started, I was 17. In an art school environment you are in small close-knit groups, with class sizes of only 15 or sometimes 20 people. It was strange in some ways being so young, for example, I didn’t have life experience of others in my cohort, especially compared to those who had already had whole careers before they came to art school.
It was great to get this exposure to a more mature, experienced group from the outset. The insights and perspectives I gained were developmentally significant, especially as I was such a sheltered, young person. But I always knew I wanted to go to art school, so I found that side of things really enjoyable. It was very self-directed and I loved that autonomy. Unlike school, I was really able to hone in on my interests and flesh those out. It was pretty exciting to transition to that from high school, and it made me feel very grown up.
“Sometimes geometric paintings are thought of having structured edges, flat colours etc. I was interested in how this could be softened to create an indirect, mysterious quality. It’s almost as though the paintings are shifting, moving or unsettled.”
Some of your works are characterised by a notable warmth and softness; you almost feel as though you can fall into them. How do you achieve such muted, harmonious results? Is it also about the composition of the colours or is it technique-based too?
The painting side of my practice is quite new. It was only something that I started during lockdown when I had lots of exhibitions cancelled. I had extra time in the studio with my partner James Lieutenant. We’ve shared a studio since we graduated from art school together. Being around him and his passion for painting was truly infectious, and it made me realise how keen I was to give it a go and see which material qualities I was most interested in.
I had studied photo-media so I was focused on drawings for over five years at that stage and felt it was the time to try something new when there weren’t real deadlines. My approach is informed by the fact I wanted to keep some of the compositional tools in drawing - which are geometric, while leaving some element of the painting to chance.
I kept asking myself how I could use paint in that process? How I could soften that geometric feeling? Sometimes geometric paintings are thought of having structured edges, flat colours etc. I was interested in how this could be softened to create an indirect, mysterious quality. It’s almost as though the paintings are shifting, moving or unsettled. In considering minimalism in art, there is a collective sense that it is dominated by solid, harsh, blocky elements. But back in the 1960s there was a second form of minimalism, borne off the West Coast of the USA, particularly California.
This form of minimalism referenced light sensitive materials and reflective surfaces, utilising lots of mirrors, glass and transparency. Activated primarily by audience engagement, it demonstrated the responsiveness of light in a space. This was an important part of the philosophy - this minimalism was not a direct, harsh thing that was stuck in a certain form.
My paintings engage with this idea. I love this humble quality in a work that doesn’t totally scream at you and give you an obvious answer. It needs to pull someone in and have a moment that’s more an internal thought that’s just there: it’s effortless, you don’t need to conjure it. It’s giving people mental space to have a private moment. Abstraction doesn’t give people a message: they can take whatever they need from it.
What influence, if any, has your Maltese heritage had on your desire and ability to express yourself creatively?
This is something I have been thinking about a lot recently. My parents moved to Australia from Gozo (Malta) in the 1970s. I think when they moved here and had kids that they did not want us to be the ‘weird’ or ‘different’ kids. We didn’t learn how to speak Maltese, for example, because I think they really wanted us to fit in as best we could, without being identified as ‘other’. It was an intentional thought of theirs. So I have kind of grown up wanting to reconnect with this heritage. It’s tricky in some ways but my parents are super open to talking through that stuff now. I have visited Malta a few times and spent time with extended family there.
I have definitely wondered whether this heritage has influenced me and my art practice. Perhaps it has, in two subtle ways. In Malta there is a strong cultural practice of lace-making; my grandmothers and mother definitely have this skill, and we’d always receive lace gifts growing up etc. There is something in this super-detailed, meticulous, repetitious pattern making. Lace would require pre-planning to connect coordinates, and it is extremely exacting. I think subconsciously, at least, this has a big connection to the geometric nature of my drawings. I’m not a lace-maker, but the similarities of the lace-making process and what I do, are not lost on me.
The second way I think Malta has influenced my creativity comes from having spent some time there. There are so many prehistoric, ancient, archaeological sites. Some of the oldest structures known to us exist on those islands, both above and underground. They are quite mysterious; people don’t necessarily know much about that civilisation, but they are, in archaeological terms, very advanced.
There is one underground site that was assumed to be religious in nature, but it is carved into solid stone on an enormous scale with very specific acoustic quality where male and female voices echo and respond to the space differently. That’s something that has been my brain too. I don’t know if it relates to my practice 100% but I am certainly interested in these ancient, super sophisticated practices, and the knowledge that has been lost about ancient cultures over time. This has always been so fascinating to me, and I do think my work is intent upon visualising time in some way. My paintings aren’t new and shiny looking; they have a timeless sensibility.
“In my art-making I like to rely upon systems or rules to give me direction. They started off quite simple as I began this process of making.”
You’ve described your work as being pre-planned and formulated but that you always try to leave space for agency, intuition and chance. How does this manifest in practice?
I have quite a system-oriented brain and my day job as a system administrator at the National Gallery of Australia confirms this. In my art-making I like to rely upon systems or rules to give me direction. They started off quite simple as I began this process of making. But I have fleshed these out more and more as time goes on. This is how I approach those drawings I make. I have specific rules about how the composition comes about and how I build up the structures. I think that chance comes into it - there are steps in the process that I’ll be able to recognise when I view a completed work and identify what was left to chance. For example, for one of my works, I dropped sunflower seeds on the page and exactly where they landed is where I connected the lines, which formed the ‘map’ or ‘shell’ of the piece. This was all left to chance, outside of my control. Even the points where the lines converge, this was dictated by the order in which I dropped the seeds.
Part of the little sets of rules I impose for myself, will be doing things in a certain sequence or order, too. Over time those sorts of sets of rules become more complex and it’s a game or challenge I set myself. It gets progressively trickier. It’s kind of crazy, right?! The drawings can be complex, some have taken up to six months. You invest all this time and don’t 100% know what the outcome will be. So many interesting things happen that you cannot plan in advance.
Do you think beauty is objective and absolute, namely that all humans are hardwired to recognise beauty, and that there is nothing subjective about it?
This is really tricky. It is something that sounds like a simple question but when you drill down it is so complex. When I am making work I do not necessarily aim to make something beautiful but nor do I want it to be repulsive either. I’m in between. It needs to be visually pleasing enough to compel people to have a good solid look at it. But there is always some kind of garish colour or other choice I’ve made which means there is something in my works that is unexpected.
The paintings are made up of thin layers of colour, so sometimes you can overlay colours and end up with some insane lime green. So you need to mute that and bring it back to something that’s not horrendously gaudy and disgusting. I quite like the little challenge of having something little that throws off the visually pleasant “beautiful” impression. A lot of art practices historically have played with this tension between something that is beautiful, whether that’s content or imagery that is subversive and takes people by surprise.
More broadly, beauty is something that I think is so based on the society that you’re operating in and the influences you’re under. People are so exposed to digital content and social media - this has a powerful way to change what people perceive as beautiful. You think you’re forming a personal opinion but you are just reflecting the information you’ve absorbed and social positions you’ve accumulated. Beauty standards feed into this in a big way.
What have you observed about living a creative life in Canberra?
That’s an interesting question because I met my partner at art school and we both moved to Sydney quite quickly after we graduated, staying for eight years before returning to Canberra in 2018. I think part of that thought process was that Canberra is quite a good city to have a creative practice. It is relatively easy and affordable to access studio space. At that time, cost of living was much lower than Sydney too. It’s also just about having mental space where you can think about your work even when you’re not in the studio.
Being in a big city like Sydney is mentally draining. Even commuting etc. can be stressful and you feel the frenetic city energy. It detracts from your ability to really focus on your work. Life in Canberra is quieter in some ways but you still have access to great galleries and food, but it’s a better overall balance across all sorts of elements. We have the mental space here to grow our art practices. We’ve certainly been able to make developments in what we’re doing since we moved to Canberra, and we appreciate that because we’re not sure the same would have happened if we’d stayed in Sydney.
It’s getting colder in Canberra. If you had the chance to travel to a warmer climate during the winter months, where would you most like to go?
I have not travelled anywhere other than Sydney since before Covid so that is a loaded question! I have been thinking about planning a little Europe trip which would include going to Malta and having a few other Mediterranean stops. We miss seeing art and going to museums; we’re itching for that.
What do you love about living in Canberra’s Inner South?
I guess for me the spot where I am at is so great. I work at the NGA and have a studio at M16. Everything is so close. My commute is so short, I can do everything I need. I have a little bubble which I think is lovely. It feels like I have a cosy home and it’s super handy to be close to other artists, galleries and studios. Definitely part of it was a lifestyle thought, being near to good cafes and restaurants. I do quite like the inner South in general - you are close to older, classic Canberra institutions but still have lots of new precincts and cool businesses popping up, like Dairy Road.
If you have the opportunity to go out for dinner in Canberra, what are some of your favourite restaurants?
You know where I just went for the first time? It was the most amazing meal of my life. It was Pilot, it was perfect. It was super worth it, if you can spend the money and have a special occasion, it’s the most amazing experience. For casual dining, I love Brodburger, conveniently close to where we live! I am also really into Tokyo Canteen in Kingston and Red Brick Coffee is my go to in Fyshwick for my coffee. The trickiest thing in moving from Sydney was finding my coffee, but when I discovered Red Brick I knew I’d found it.
Which local artist are you currently most excited about?
That’s a tough question. I guess in terms of local artists I have always loved eX de Medici’s drawings; she makes these super detailed drawings and they are influenced by her experience with tattooing etc. They combine guns and moths and lots of different imagery and are so detailed. Love her work!
What role does art play in your home environment? Do you decorate and live with it? If so, how?
Yes! I do have a small, humble art collection in my one bedroom apartment. We are almost at the maximum of what we can fit on our walls. Is it decorating or not, though? The art is the primary ‘thing’, in some ways. We have done a few work swaps with other artists but I like to be able to financially support people and buy something if I can afford to.
A lot of what we have is works on paper, because that’s what we can afford. The real estate on our walls is limited, so we have to really love something to want to buy it. And we need to both love something in order to live with it. Even work we’ve had for years, sometimes you catch it in a different light and see something you hadn’t noticed before. It’s so interesting that the art we live with can keep sustaining one’s interest for so long. This is one of the most special things about visual art, because you end up building a relationship with a piece over time and this results in such a personal experience.
I cannot think of many other things that give you that sustained experience, over a very long time. In terms of living with art and incorporating it into one’s interior, I’d say having a level of visual intelligence is a learned skill, and some people might not think about it or build that skill. I do think people are becoming more visually articulate however, simply because we are saturated with so much imagery, especially through social media. It’s a different language. Through viewing and seeing as much as you can, and actively thinking about it, you can grow it and develop your taste.
Words by Ebony Levy.
We hope to see you at the Zig Zag Opening Night at The Mixing Room Gallery on Friday 30 June 2023. Book tickets for the opening night here.
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