Tamarah Niccol

Born 1972, Darwin
Bachelor of Visual Arts (Hons)
Graduation show: 1994
Graduation ceremony: 1995


Artwork in Space YZ

Butts, 1997
Oil on canvas
100 x 70 cm

Butts, 1997, oil on canvas, 100 x 70 cm

I painted Butts within a couple of years of completing my Visual Art studies. I had begun High School teaching. The sanctuary of the Z block building, the fellow artists it housed, is a memory. I sought to harness some control in my new role as inexperienced educator, through a new, tight, disciplined style of painting. It didn’t work. At all.

I had dabbled in the photo-realist painting style a couple of times at uni, but was set straight again by Donal Fitzpatrick and Debra Porch. Debra, on one occasion, calling my work: “anally retentive”. She was right.

I was missing the guidance of my mentors, including Rhett Brewer, who advised my painting practice during my final year.

Men in Suits, 1994, oil paint and texta on vinyl, 220 x 220 cm

Die Magpie! Die!, 1994, oil paint on linoleum, 220 x 220 cm

Memories of a Still Life, 1995, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm

Metaphors Galore, 1997, oil on canvas, 100 x 40 cm

My first try with a blow torch saw the quick intervention of a technician who sited my (gothic) synthetic nightie dress and loose, (gothic) hair as hazardous. (They were right).

I was a nomad; I changed residences countless times, learnt huge life lessons about friendships and flatmates and realised that I am happiest as a painter.

I admired the Neo-Expressionist painters, their anti-elitism and reaction to media-saturated times. I gained notoriety as the messiest painter. I spilled a jar of homemade damar varnish in my locker and its leaked contents spilled on the floor, to be spread by every passer-by, for many days. (From my nearby studio space I would hear the tell-tale “squelch, squelch, squelch…” followed by “Dammit Tamarah!”.

I spilled white house paint all over the floor of my Honours studio. It was oil-based.

Susan Norrie ruined the rear of her pants, when she unwittingly leaned against my oil-paint mess on the bench, while we chatted about our practice.

During my Honours year I was weaned off the luxury and impermanence of the vibrant, thriving art community that was Z block. (There were fewer of us and our studio hours were often solitary). My interests in the phenomenology of painting and the psychology of architectural spaces was not necessarily evident in my work.  

Now, I’m back where I want to be. My work is loose, I execute it quickly and it gives me a thrill. I also perform in local musical theatre, another creative outlet I owe to my early years of Uni and the interdisciplinary studies that enabled me to meet and form friendships with awe-inspiring performing arts students. (Those parties were something ELSE!). My narrative paintings are often based on these experiences.

I am fortunate to work with the amazing young humans who will inhabit the future. They allow me to advise and draw them, sometimes. Relationships are important and now it is my turn to be one of their guides.

For more about Tamarah Niccol, visit her website and Instagram.

Marriage Scene, 1994, oil paint on vinyl, 220 x 220 cm