ANNA JOHNSON

Positioned between post-impressionist sensibilities and lyrical colour field painting, Johnson’s practice resists linear narratives of art history, proposing abstraction as a concentric condition that folds time, influence, and gesture into a single field. In Nuage et Vide, visual languages collapse: atmospheric lightness meets geological density, gesture merges with memory, and surface becomes both image and terrain. Working directly onto raw, unprimed linen without preparatory structures, Johnson pushes, disperses, and absorbs pigment by hand, creating compositions where edges bleed and reform to generate a tension between figure and ground, depth and flatness.

Shaped by the artist’s personal geography between Australia and New York, the works carry the imprint of contrasting environments. “Conditions of light in Australia can be eviscerating,” Johnson notes. “The palette of the trees is bleached, yet the sky is violently blue.” Her childhood terrain was one of concrete, bitumen, and stained pressed metal—growing up in early seventies Manhattan on 21st Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenue, she “did not see the ocean for seven years.” In that time, “the sky assumed the role of landscape, a liberating void above the grid.” Her experience of New York exists in shards across three decades, and the extremes of contrast between cities and hemispheres had the power to bleach out the details. “Painting this show pushed into all the bruises of memory.”

What began as a somewhat etheric theme—cloudscapes, zen minimalism, colour field aestheticism—gradually assumed a more confronting, almost gnarled presence. There is an idea that if you leave a city, the city will gradually leave you. But Johnson remains the sum of experiences both raw and sequestered, revealed in the restlessness of her palette and the bleeding edges of her forms. Nuage et Vide is an unexpected return to a city she retreated from but can never really abandon.

Recurring motifs suggestive of cartography, bark, and erosion surface and recede, yet the subject remains painting itself: examining how an image comes into being, occupies space, and dissolves. This invites the viewer into a perceptual ambiguity, questioning whether they are looking at something aerial or subterranean, expansive or intimate. The title Nuage et Vide (Cloud and Void) encapsulates this duality. As Johnson suggests, a cloud is both presence and absence—form and atmosphere simultaneously—existing as a visible structure while remaining inseparable from the space it inhabits. This paradox underpins the exhibition, where each painting operates as both an image and its own disappearance.