These works began during my Bundanon Trust residency in the spring of 2023, where I worked for two weeks at the site of Arthur Boyd’s last studio on the Shoalhaven River, NSW. Many of these paintings are inspired by the energy of spring in that place, and the joy of painting itself, which the Boyds also harnessed over the years.

In terms of content, I spent much time thinking about narrative and the obscuring or hijacking of narrative.

I get very inspired by mark-making and the tension between control and looseness in a painting. That often leads me to think of other dichotomies, such as freedom versus containment, holding it together versus losing control, domestic versus wild, animate versus inanimate, eros versus logos, and where the lines between these opposing forces fall.

During my evenings at Bundanon, I conducted and recorded a series of Zoom conversations with female painters that I admire, including Jahnne Pasco-White, Prudence Flint, Heidi Yardley, Pia Murphy, Kate Tucker, Kate Wallace, Eleanor Louise Butt, Helen Johnson and Amber Wallis. All these conversations inspired aspects of, or the ways I have approached, the body of work.

After I returned from the residency, I started painting in a derelict old cottage in Birkenhead Street, North Fitzroy. It was around the time of the Indigenous Voice to Parliament referendum, and continued right through October 7th and the following nine months of unfolding horror in Gaza. I was instinctively hiding away from the world during this intense time. But also, I was attempting to process and communicate the utter devastation and grief through my work.

When I first started working in the house, I had the distinct feeling that I was not alone. I’m pretty sure there were the souls of two old ladies from different generations with me. In some ways, I see these paintings as a collaboration with them.

The works may be seen as an exploration of the complex feelings that women experience in the home, from joy through to fear and grief. The women that lived there survived the depression, both wars and many hardships, no doubt. I felt the house had a staunch, resilient female energy that has found its way into many of the paintings.

Each room was painted a different colour, which added a sense of drama to the process, like being on a film set or in a giant doll’s house. This was also in line with my interest in vessels and the act of holding. A lot of the paintings in this body of work feature various vessels in different guises and forms of abstraction, both as framing or cropping devices, as well sometimes being the subject.

I like the way that ‘Strong Hold’ makes me think of both the action of holding (holding it together, holding space, holding knowledge, holding someone close) and the idea of a stronghold being a fortress or place of security and survival. I see the vessels in my work as both containers of messy emotional material and their surfaces the canvases for narrative, pictorial spaces to hold visual stories and metaphor.

As a result of working for almost a year in this domestic vessel – the Birkenhead house – I have thought a lot about the house or home as the ultimate vessel. The home is a vessel that contains the elements of daily life. It can be both a stronghold and cage, a stage for drama, a bath of love, a nest of grief and a petri dish of growth.

The souls in the house led me to question whether these domestic containers can hold energy and history in a way that we don’t fully comprehend yet. I thought a lot about the fact that a house is a vessel for a body and that a body is a vessel for a soul. Maybe souls can still communicate important things without a body. Maybe these lost souls can help bring to light the most evocative stories of our times.

Tai Snaith, 2024

To enquire about availability of these works please contact Nicholas Thompson Gallery