Gemma Smith’s show at Brisbane’s Milani Gallery is a breath of fresh air. At a time when our galleries are laden with issues and identity—and nothing makes sense without consulting the wall text—Smith’s immediate, joyous, eye-candy abstraction comes across as a guilty pleasure. 

The Sydney artist’s work may be easy on the eye, but it’s smart. At first, I couldn’t work out how the paintings were made. I thought she may have used masking to generate the shapes. Not so. Actually, she brushes on a thin veil of colour, then shapes it by wiping off excess paint with a cloth. Then another veil is overlaid and shaped. And so on. Smith’s wipes generate arcs. The resulting forms are transparent—hard edged, yet soft and brushy.

In these paintings, everything is busy, yet light and lightness prevail. It’s all contrast and counterpoint. Paint is applied in one direction, then removed in another. There’s the movement (and implied speed) of the application, the movement (and implied speed) of the removal. Plus, there’s the optical drama built up from the interactions of lines and colours. Each work has its own distinct architecture and personality.

These are big paintings, produced up close but to be viewed from a distance. Smith’s ability to keep everything under some control while improvising at the coalface is impressive. She reconciles the geometric and the gestural—drawing and painting—in a new way. Gemma Smith: Orbits, at Milani Gallery, until 27 April.

[IMAGE: Gemma Smith Infinitely 2023]
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