Exhibition Category: Current

Christine Healy
Liminal Field

Samantha Harvey’s short book Orbital merges science with speculative fiction to meditate on the world’s fragility (2023). Orbital follows the lives of six astronauts orbiting the earth over 24 hours. The book traverses from the micro to the macro constantly. We zoom in on their human mundanities (such as excessive exercising to prevent atrophying muscles and floating in gravity-free sleep). We zoom out to witness the fragilities of the planet as a super typhoon moves across Asia. As they watch the typhoon from the distance of outer space, we are left to reflect on both the uncontrollable power of nature and the impact of climate change. Orbital is an elegy to the awe and fragility of nature— how we sit at the precipice of climate changes we can’t reverse.

Like Orbital, Christine Healy’s painting can be read like elegies to nature. Visual poems honouring the majestic fragilities of nature. How nature holds both grief and hope as bedfellows. How the awe-inspiring rhythms of oceans can attune to our emotions when we can’t find a voice. How the atmospheres of skies constantly shift from the profound to the mundane, the fragile to overwhelming.

As painted poems, Healy’s elegies bear witness to nature’s emotions— the awe, wonder, vulnerability, power, beauty, grief and hope. A constellation of attunements through colour, movement and texture. It is a space in which grief and hope are entangled. An elegy to where joy, awe, fragility and the transitory meet.

Each of Healy’s paintings are invitations into her process of elegy making. Psychological moments in the liminal field. Some evoke process and ritual. The bringing together of the profound and mundane. Knowing that some things in nature are unknowable. Longing. Gathering. A new language. The swim. Secrets too tender. Reckless green. Ghost nets. After light. When Healy speaks about the process it is a “fragile coherence” between the spontaneous and the edited. It’s a curiosity about process and play that is comfortable with the ambiguity of the liminal.

In Anthropology, the liminal field is the uncertain space in a ritual before the transformation. Like the Japanese notion of “ma”, it is an in-between space to be honoured. Whether it be the permacrisis of war, the deep grief of Anthropocene, or the Al prophecy machine, we live in a time of great uncertainty. Or, as Healy suggests, in a time of the liminal field. Rather than sitting with the negativity of uncertainty, the liminal suggests an in-between space to be reflected upon. A moment for mediation before transformation. Contemplation on intentional ambiguity.

Like Orbital, Healy’s Liminal Field constantly moves in and out of the micro and macro. Merging awe with vulnerability. Fragility with power. We as viewers are left with a series of beautiful visual elegies to nature— an entanglement of human and more-than-human. These elegies hold space for ambiguities and the unknowable in nature. They are about liminal moments in human connection with nature. How nature is so fragile and yet awe-inspiring. How the limits of our perception make it unknowable. How if we occupy the in-between space of uncertainty and ambiguity we can also bear witness to moments of profound connection.

Dist. Professor Larissa Hjorth
May 2026

Gillian Warden
Vestige

The title of Gillian Warden’s Melbourne exhibition, Vestige, should be taken literally. These paintings deal with what remains after the old certainties of pictorial space have started to give way. A vestige is not a memory or a ruin. It is something still active after the system that once held it together has weakened.
That idea sits at the centre of Warden’s work. Her paintings are not about landscape in any direct sense, but traces of landscape painting linger inside them: depth, horizon, distance, the sense of moving through space. These elements appear, then falter. Space opens and closes again. Structure forms briefly, then slips back into the surface.

Warden is not using abstraction as a style exercise. Nor is she interested in the easy looseness common in much contemporary abstraction, where paintings drift into decoration or vague atmosphere. Her work is tougher and more deliberate. The paintings hold several competing ideas of space at once without allowing any to take control.

That tension is what gives the work its bite. Layers of paint create depth, then disappear beneath later passages. Tonal shifts suggest recession before being blocked by dense areas. Gestural marks cut across attempts at structure. Edges appear, disappear, re-emerge elsewhere. The paintings keep pulling against their own decisions.

Nothing here feels arbitrary. Warden is not chasing chaos. The paintings remain carefully judged, but only just. Coherence appears briefly, then slips away.
That becomes especially clear in works such as Caught in the Making and Afterimage. Both carry the evidence of revision. Earlier decisions remain visible beneath later layers as active elements still shaping the surface.

In Caught in the Making, ochres, yellow-greens, teals, magentas and dense dark passages gather into loose blocks that push toward order without arriving there. Parts feel almost architectural, as if structure is trying to emerge. Then gesture interrupts it. Dense areas pull against open passages. Weight shifts across the field. The painting never settles, and that becomes the point.

Afterimage moves differently. The surface is more fused and atmospheric. Reds, burgundies and smoky violets bleed together until boundaries lose authority. Yet the painting is not unified. Continuity comes because distinctions can no longer hold. Instead of building order, it absorbs tension.

Seen together, the paintings show two versions of the same problem. One exposes structure breaking apart; the other disperses it across the surface.

This refusal of resolution separates Warden from much contemporary abstraction. Too many works settle for mood and looseness alone. Warden avoids that trap. Even at their most atmospheric, the paintings keep testing pictorial limits. Moments of coherence appear briefly before dissolving again.

There are echoes of late Tony Tuckson here, but where Tuckson drives toward intensity, Warden spreads pressure across the surface. No single gesture dominates.

Colour plays a crucial role in this shifting language. Muted greens, ochres, reds, violets and blacks change function. Dark passages suggest depth, then return to surface. Lighter areas briefly anchor before drifting again.

What stays compelling in Warden’s work is the persistence of spatial thinking after older pictorial systems have lost authority. Overpainting and revision prevent the work settling into certainty. Earlier states remain active beneath the surface, pressing forward.

That is where the seriousness of these paintings lies. Warden does not rely on novelty or decorative ease. Nor does she soften contradiction. The work earns authority through sustained pressure: structure against gesture, depth against surface, coherence against dispersal.

The title Vestige captures this precisely. These paintings are not mourning collapse, nor denying it. What remains is the afterlife of structure itself — depth without fixity, painting still holding space after confidence has weakened.
That is the source of their force. Every mark carries the memory of another beneath it. Space opens, closes, reforms. The paintings never arrive at a final image because finality is beside the point.

What matters is the pressure the work sustains. Warden keeps painting into the gap where structure survives, but authority does not. The result is painting that feels tested, restless, and convincing because it refuses easy coherence.

Andrew McIlroy
Melbourne, 2026

Adapted from “Gillian Warden’s Paintings and the Vestige of Spatial Order,” published in This Art Life (Substack), 19 May 2026.