A Conversation with Julia Gutman
Julia Gutman is an Australian multidisciplinary artist who reuses found textiles to produce ‘patchworks’ that merge personal and collective histories to explore themes of femininity, intimacy and memory. At 29, Julia became one of the youngest artists to win the Archibald portrait prize, after her work Head in the sky, feet on the ground, which depicts her friend, the artist Montaigne, won the 2023 Prize. For Julia, the urge to make things is urgent and playful, and the process of layering colours and prints and pairing unexpected textiles defies genres and makes her feel completely herself.
Julia wears the Florentine Shirt Jacket & Smith Jean.
Tell us about your journey into art – were you artistic as a child?
As a kid I spent a lot of time drawing, writing and making films. There was a video where I painted my late grandmother green and filmed her dancing in the rain in Centennial Park – she was in her element! I don’t think my approach has changed that much since then, I just have more time and resources to devote to the weird little world that I get to build, and people other than my grandma seem happy to be involved now.
For me, making things has always come from this very urgent, but also playful internal space. I think the thing we often forget about play is that it’s actually a rigorous thing; play has to be stimulating and challenging to be enjoyable. I think that’s something you notice as an educator, especially working with little kids. If you are trying to solve some kind of conceptual problem, or express something that needs to come up, the work can be motivated by this strong need to figure it out; it's playful, and it's fun, but it's also really hard.
Who has nurtured your passion along the way?
I’m lucky to have a family that supports creativity and experimentation. I never felt obliged to conform or temper myself. In the 90s, my mum was making paintings using wooden pallets, and we used to drive around to construction sites with her friends’ van to pick them up. She spent her adolescence with this DIY approach to clothes – studding army jackets and sewing skirts from old ties. My sister and I loved sewing old pairs of jeans into little denim purses (à la Justin and Britney 2001) and altering and repainting our toys. We had this beautiful wooden dolls house that we inherited from a family friend and when they outgrew it, it quickly became a punk squat after a series of ‘inspired’ renovations.
It was ok to make a mess. It was okay to disagree; it’s a virtue to have your own opinion. In fact, my siblings are all so absurdly different to one another, it feels like what we share is independent thought.
Can you describe your work and style for those not familiar with it?
I make textiles that draw on the language and histories of painting. The works are all made entirely from donated fabric – clothes that have been worn, sheets that have been slept on – so the stories of the materials intertwine with the imagery to create a layered narrative. The works are figurative and often replicate compositional moments in historical artworks, using my friends as models who respond to and reinvent the narrative of the original painting.
Julia wears the Cashmere Turtleneck & Bella Skirt.
Your work, Head in the sky, feet on the ground just won the 2023 Archibald Portrait Prize – how did it feel?
Incredibly surreal and very unexpected. I never anticipated my work being part of a national conversation. I think the Archibald is unique in its ability to engage the whole country in a conversation about painting. Considering I operate most of the time in a niche little universe, it’s been fascinating to see how an experiential practice is received in the context of mainstream media.
What’s your relationship with its subject, the Australian musician Montaigne?
Jess and I met in a friend’s share house in 2020 and became fast friends. I know them out of the context of either of our creative practices, so it has been really lovely to work together on this.
You started as a painter and have become more multidisciplinary in your practice – tell us about that and which mediums you like to experiment with.
I love narrative, and my original interest in painting was spurred by a desire to tell stories. I started as a figurative painter but was also very compelled by found things.
When it came to my MFA, I decided to study sculpture. I wanted to make works that were immersive and experimental and I was interested in the openness of the field. When you make a painting, for the most part, the paint is implied. You aren’t really expected to qualify the reason that you used paint, beyond the fact that you are a painter. What I loved about sculpture was the concern with materiality: what am I working with and why? What ideas, histories and politics are embedded into the materials that I’m using?
My approach to practice is really a tangle of these two things: I want to create images, to tell stories; but I also want the materiality to be conceptually linked. With my textile works, I can replicate the processes I used as a painter through layering and sewing materials that bring an additional layer of meaning to the work.
Julia wears the Lyndon Shirt & Maddy Relxed Pant.
Which artists do you admire or have shaped the artist you have become?
Louise Bourgeois, Wangechi Mutu, Sophie Calle, Billie Zangewa, Faith Ringgold.
Outside of the art world, what else inspires you?
My relationships. Challenging (and funny) conversation is probably the biggest catalyst for my work. Also literature. I’m usually reading a combo of fiction, critical essays and something historical. There’s this Yiddish word, ‘shpatzir’, which means to just kind of aimlessly wander around. Lots of that. I rely on long walks with my dog, in both quiet nature and busy stimulating settings to reset my brain. Also, who would live in Sydney if they weren’t fanatical about the ocean?
What does your average day look like?
I like to get out of the house as soon as I wake up. I start every day with a long walk with my spaniel Tabbi, which ends with a coffee. I usually make myself breakfast and lunch at the same time, so that I can spend the rest of the day focused without having to take another big break. During the week, I’m either teaching or in the studio, which I try to treat as close to a 9-5 as possible (though when I have a show coming up, the hours tend to widen.) I usually have several works going at once, from big, finalised tapestries that need to be hand-sewn together, to early sketches of works to come. I try to bounce between these different stages each day to keep my eyes and ideas fresh. I have little breaks for coffee, dance interludes and sometimes a welcome distraction from my studio-mate.
What are your absolute must-haves for a day in your studio?
Comfy pants. A range of playlists and podcasts for the various moods that will undoubtedly arise. Tzatziki and good crackers, and ripe avocados. And sea-salt dark chocolate.
A CONVERSATION WITH JULIA GUTMAN
Julia Gutman is an Australian multidisciplinary artist who reuses found textiles to produce ‘patchworks’ that merge personal and collective histories to explore themes of femininity, intimacy and memory. At 29, Julia became one of the youngest artists to win the Archibald portrait prize, after her work Head in the sky, feet on the ground, which depicts her friend, the artist Montaigne, won the 2023 Prize. For Julia, the urge to make things is urgent and playful, and the process of layering colours and prints and pairing unexpected textiles defies genres and makes her feel completely herself.
Julia wears the Florentine Shirt Jacket & Smith Jean.
Tell us about your journey into art – were you artistic as a child?
As a kid I spent a lot of time drawing, writing and making films. There was a video where I painted my late grandmother green and filmed her dancing in the rain in Centennial Park – she was in her element! I don’t think my approach has changed that much since then, I just have more time and resources to devote to the weird little world that I get to build, and people other than my grandma seem happy to be involved now.
For me, making things has always come from this very urgent, but also playful internal space. I think the thing we often forget about play is that it’s actually a rigorous thing; play has to be stimulating and challenging to be enjoyable. I think that’s something you notice as an educator, especially working with little kids. If you are trying to solve some kind of conceptual problem, or express something that needs to come up, the work can be motivated by this strong need to figure it out; it's playful, and it's fun, but it's also really hard.
Who has nurtured your passion along the way?
I’m lucky to have a family that supports creativity and experimentation. I never felt obliged to conform or temper myself. In the 90s, my mum was making paintings using wooden pallets, and we used to drive around to construction sites with her friends’ van to pick them up. She spent her adolescence with this DIY approach to clothes – studding army jackets and sewing skirts from old ties. My sister and I loved sewing old pairs of jeans into little denim purses (à la Justin and Britney 2001) and altering and repainting our toys. We had this beautiful wooden dolls house that we inherited from a family friend and when they outgrew it, it quickly became a punk squat after a series of ‘inspired’ renovations.
It was ok to make a mess. It was okay to disagree; it’s a virtue to have your own opinion. In fact, my siblings are all so absurdly different to one another, it feels like what we share is independent thought.
Can you describe your work and style for those not familiar with it?
I make textiles that draw on the language and histories of painting. The works are all made entirely from donated fabric – clothes that have been worn, sheets that have been slept on – so the stories of the materials intertwine with the imagery to create a layered narrative. The works are figurative and often replicate compositional moments in historical artworks, using my friends as models who respond to and reinvent the narrative of the original painting.
Julia wears the Cashmere Turtleneck & Bella Skirt.
Your work, Head in the sky, feet on the ground just won the 2023 Archibald Portrait Prize – how did it feel?
Incredibly surreal and very unexpected. I never anticipated my work being part of a national conversation. I think the Archibald is unique in its ability to engage the whole country in a conversation about painting. Considering I operate most of the time in a niche little universe, it’s been fascinating to see how an experiential practice is received in the context of mainstream media.
What’s your relationship with its subject, the Australian musician Montaigne?
Jess and I met in a friend’s share house in 2020 and became fast friends. I know them out of the context of either of our creative practices, so it has been really lovely to work together on this.
You started as a painter and have become more multidisciplinary in your practice – tell us about that and which mediums you like to experiment with.
I love narrative, and my original interest in painting was spurred by a desire to tell stories. I started as a figurative painter but was also very compelled by found things.
When it came to my MFA, I decided to study sculpture. I wanted to make works that were immersive and experimental and I was interested in the openness of the field. When you make a painting, for the most part, the paint is implied. You aren’t really expected to qualify the reason that you used paint, beyond the fact that you are a painter. What I loved about sculpture was the concern with materiality: what am I working with and why? What ideas, histories and politics are embedded into the materials that I’m using?
My approach to practice is really a tangle of these two things: I want to create images, to tell stories; but I also want the materiality to be conceptually linked. With my textile works, I can replicate the processes I used as a painter through layering and sewing materials that bring an additional layer of meaning to the work.
Julia wears the Lyndon Shirt & Maddy Relxed Pant.
Which artists do you admire or have shaped the artist you have become?
Louise Bourgeois, Wangechi Mutu, Sophie Calle, Billie Zangewa, Faith Ringgold.
Outside of the art world, what else inspires you?
My relationships. Challenging (and funny) conversation is probably the biggest catalyst for my work. Also literature. I’m usually reading a combo of fiction, critical essays and something historical. There’s this Yiddish word, ‘shpatzir’, which means to just kind of aimlessly wander around. Lots of that. I rely on long walks with my dog, in both quiet nature and busy stimulating settings to reset my brain. Also, who would live in Sydney if they weren’t fanatical about the ocean?
What does your average day look like?
I like to get out of the house as soon as I wake up. I start every day with a long walk with my spaniel Tabbi, which ends with a coffee. I usually make myself breakfast and lunch at the same time, so that I can spend the rest of the day focused without having to take another big break. During the week, I’m either teaching or in the studio, which I try to treat as close to a 9-5 as possible (though when I have a show coming up, the hours tend to widen.) I usually have several works going at once, from big, finalised tapestries that need to be hand-sewn together, to early sketches of works to come. I try to bounce between these different stages each day to keep my eyes and ideas fresh. I have little breaks for coffee, dance interludes and sometimes a welcome distraction from my studio-mate.
What are your absolute must-haves for a day in your studio?
Comfy pants. A range of playlists and podcasts for the various moods that will undoubtedly arise. Tzatziki and good crackers, and ripe avocados. And sea-salt dark chocolate.