I mostly know Fiona Smith for her vibrantly coloured, Baroquely detailed paintings of native Australian birds in interiors. They're all lush detail, a treat for the eyes. More recently, I've taken to reading Fiona's free Substack. I always think that an artist shows their hand when they paint - well, Fiona also shows her hand when she writes. She is a former journalist and can't switch it off. Her newsletters are crisply written and worth reading for an artist who - like me, I suppose - is a starry-eyed dreamer who might be thinking the business of being an artist sure looks shiny.
I felt inspired to reach out to her after reading a post called 'Stripped naked – the unpalette-able truth about my finances'. As the word 'naked' suggests, Fiona bares it all - that is, the painful truth of the matter: an apparently wildly successful artist such as her, whose gross pay is six figures, is taking home less than minimum wage once you deduct taxes, the gallery's commission, canvases and framing. I retold this very candid story to an artist friend recently; she said it was not what she was hoping to hear. As Fiona has dived into topics such as how to make a profit at an art fair and how to care for brushes, I've become a loyal reader as well as an enjoyer of her wonderful paintings.
Fiona Smith and her dog Archie. Image: supplied
Fiona Smith is the 44th in my series of creatives to take five questions.
When my creative process is stuck, I reach for... a cup of tea. The tea is a long-time replacement for the cigarette I used to reach for as a young journalist. Yes, children, back in the day, we all used to smoke tobacco. Really, it is just the opportunity to pause and let the mind wander. Most of my paradigm-shifting ideas come to me in the shower, however.
The weirdest thing about being a creative human is... that everyone is creative in their way. People often tell me that they wished they were creative like me, and then I see they have crafted the most extraordinary home environment, garden, embroider, or cook incredible meals. Other than that, I often marvel that we are like bottomless containers for ideas; the more we use them and share them, the more ideas we have. There is never an end to good ideas and the worst thing you can do is to hoard them and store them away because it stops the flow.
One of Fiona Smith's highly detailed, elaborate paintings of native Australian birds. Image: supplied
The most unusual object in my house is... my dog, Archie. Because getting a dog was the most un-Fiona thing I could have done at the time. Aside from the fact that I’d always been a cat person, he is a complete disrupter in every sense. He is so much work, he is anxious, so my husband and I have not gone away as a couple since I bought him six years ago, he interrupts me when I am working. But he also gives us so much love, makes us laugh, and brings everyone in the family together.
I bought him on an impulse because my children were on the brink of adulthood and I suddenly panicked and thought, “My children have never known what it is to have a dog and if I don’t get one now, they’ll never know what it is like”.
I celebrate my achievements by... rewarding myself with something self-indulgent: something new to wear, buying art, booking a trip. But I don’t always. Usually, the achievement is the reward.
Something in the world that already exists that I wish I had created is...
I remember, before the development of the iPad and iPhone, daydreaming about technology that would enable people to take a renewable newspaper with them on the bus or train. In my mind, it would have been a plastic sheet that would be run through a kind of printer/fax at home for today’s news and then you could run it through another machine at the other end of your journey for an updated read.
“Why hasn’t someone done this?” I wondered. The answer was, they were working on something better. So, I wish I’d developed the iPad.
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