Psychoscapes: Kirsty Neilson

Kirsty Neilson, over recent years, has returned over and over again to places held close to her heart. She walks with them, and sits with them, until the line between looking and belonging grows thin. The works in Psychoscapes are records of her immersion in the landscape: of light shifting on dappled water, of foliage thickening after the rain, and ultimately, of a place slowly becoming part of the person who keeps going back.

Neilson’s mark-making is immediate and alive. Though there is a calmness to these places of beauty, they remain consistently dynamic. Drawn lines roll over one another, colour is laid down with fervent intention, and the undergrowth thrives – yet a stillness pervades, rendered through a balance of colour and line delivered directly by the hand.

That energy tells us these are not careful transcriptions but responses, places filtered through feeling. The result is something closer to an Eden of the mind than to any literal map or photographic reference.

As the title suggests, memory runs all through this work. A reflection seen one morning blends with the memory of twenty others; a stand of trees carries the gravitas of the years it has stood. The trick in this exhibition, or rather the gift that the artist brings to it, is that the landscape of memory is woven together with the literal world, capturing something we all know: that the places we love live in us as much as we live in them. We can ultimately identify with all that she sees and feels.

Neilson is a humanitarian; her work around the world for those less fortunate is an enduring reminder that we can all strive to be better. Surrounded by news of a troubled world, it is easy to believe peace and beauty are luxuries we can no longer afford. These works gently object to that premise and remind us that sanctuaries still exist, and that paying close attention to a place is a way of keeping it.