Painting entered Christian Dimick’s universe at the moment he needed it — first as an escape, then as a direction. Since then, encouragement from mentors and the steady rhythm of the studio have shaped an emerging practice that is intuitive, playful and open. We talked to Christian ahead of his residency at Melbourne’s Abbotsford Convent and his presentation with Tāmaki Makaurau/Auckland’s Grace gallery at the Melbourne Art Fair.
How did painting come into your life? I didn’t start painting until a little later on — I was 18. I was studying music in my first year at university in Melbourne, and I hated it so much and was very sad.
My older brother draws a bit, so I started drawing also. Then I started painting and reading about painting; I became completely infatuated. My brother could see this in me, he encouraged me to switch to studying fine arts, and I’ve never looked back. I love my brother James a lot. He guided me gently, maybe unknowingly, when I was lost and saw potential that I didn’t know was there.
What prompted you to pursue art more seriously? Was there a moment when it clicked for you? I had a great lecturer at Massey University in Te Whanganui-a-Tara/Wellington called Simon Morris. I remember seeing his studio and how active it was — his book collection, his work in progress, his collection of stretcher bars and paint. I knew I wanted this also. I started painting seriously because it felt like he took me seriously. I’m not sure if he knows this, but Simon really gave me the confidence to do all this and treat my painting practice with care and respect. Thanks Simon.
How would you describe the way you work at this point in your practice? I’d say my work is intuitive, variable, open, tangential, sometimes biographical, sometimes fictional, a bit figurative and messy. The studio is the space in my life where it’s safe to be messy, confused and physical with my work.
When you begin something new, what tends to guide those first marks? I draw a lot in the studio before I start painting. I scribble in books and do this sort of fortuitous realism thing. I get sparks of ideas or narratives in the drawing, and normally I have a few canvases ready to go. This means I can just transition to a large-scale painting without any break. Sometimes I go back and forth between a large canvas and a little book. I want to approach a large-scale work (in its infancy) with the same energy as a drawing in a book: direct.
How do drawing, collage and painting relate to one another in the process? They are all intertwined: drawings make their way into the painting, old paintings get chopped up and revived in new work. All materials are active, poised and ready — all they need is for me to situate them.
Which materials, tools or routines are a must for you in the studio? Drawing tools, oil paint, acrylic — all the normal stuff I guess. I’m not too tricky with materials. I’m not trying to fool anyone. In terms of routine, I like to read and look at books before I paint. Sometimes I just go straight in.
How does the environment you’re working in influence the work? I can work in any environment. I don’t find the presence of others in the studio too difficult, which I’m grateful for. Some artists really need their own space, which I understand. But I’m very much in my own world when working. I kind of forget that these things I am making are something people will see and interact with. Having a larger space with lots of natural light makes me work better, but spaces like that are hard to come by.
Which influences or references sit in the background for you at the moment? [German expressionist] Paula Modersohn-Becker, [Italian puppets] burattini, [Melbourne artist and lecturer] Billy Bob Hawkins, and [Dunedin-based psychedelic pop group] The Great Unwashed.
You have a residency and show at the Melbourne Art Fair coming up. What does this next phase open up for you? I’ve been lucky enough to have been gifted some space and time in the Abbottsford Convent from January to February 2026, meaning I can have a dedicated month of painting before the Melbourne Art Fair. Having the month to solely paint, without work, is something I almost never get to do. I’m excited to sink into the work, and I feel very fortunate to be able to do this.
How are you approaching the work that will form part of that presentation? I enjoy the act of painting a lot — it’s cathartic, and in Melbourne too! I have many personal ties to that place from my childhood. I would hope the paintings that appear are an attestation or evidence of a processing of this looking back and forward, all at once. I don’t like to plan or restrict myself to a brief with materials or concept, but I know the work will be significant for me. I am mentally preparing to catch all this in the painting from the moment I start working.
As you look at the pieces you’re making now, what are you noticing in them? Variations in approach, openness, curiosity, playfulness and criticality, and a level of inscrutability. It’s important for me to not completely understand my work sometimes.
What part of making feels the most meaningful to you right now? This may not be the best answer, but it’s all meaningful to me. From walking to the studio to reading and drawing in a little book — any considered time I get to reflect and be present in the studio is meaningful and important to me.
What does living with art mean to you, whether that’s your own or others’ work? I don’t really live with my own work because I think I would find it a little overwhelming. I have a select few works I live with. There’s a beautiful picture by [Porirua-based] Eleanor Cooper called Proton Room that is held by the Grace Collection that I am taking care of. It’s so gorgeous I’m not even going to try to explain it. If you’re reading this, go online and look at the picture. I also have a painting of a butterfly by an old friend from art school, and a little realistic framed drawing I did for my girlfriend of her family’s cats. All these works mean a lot to me. They make me feel energised, curious, warm and ready to go make my own work.
grace-aotearoa.net/christiandimick
Interview Alice Lines
Photography Ophelia Harradine Bayly, Sam Hartnett
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