Suzanne Archer, winner of the 1994 Wynne Prize is celebrating her 9th Sulman Prize selection this year. For Lottie Consalvo, this is her first time in the prize and James Drinkwater's second time as a Sulman finalist. All outstanding paintings—congratulations to Suzanne, Lottie and James.
Suzanne Archer
Green Velvet
In 2018, I purchased a selection of beautiful, coloured velvets to be potentially used as backgrounds for some of my sculptures being photographed for The song of the cicada, a book about my life and work.
In 2025, I embarked on a new series of still-life paintings. For the large works, I created arrangements with background colours inspired by these fabrics. In Green velvet I have included domestic objects, images from my studio wall, a taxidermy rabbit and the inclusion of one of my Mutter Masks, a series of sculptures, set against a green velvet backdrop.
Suzanne Archer, 2026
Lottie Consalvo
She looked up at me and said, 'You're not afraid of the dark, youre afraid of what's in it'
There is a place framed by dawn and dusk, where the inhabitants follow the moon. It is chaotic and wild. A world that operates in darkness.
My eyes are adjusting
The atmosphere is thick with mystery and magic. Things shimmer and bloom. Life comes in and out of view and I sense that it reappears in our dreams.
My senses are growing sharper
I have found a world with dark passages that lead to places in myself I frequent more often than I should. One of spirit, one of madness. One anchored to far away, if only you turn the lights out.
Lottie Consalvo, 2026
James Drinkwater
'For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams'
The title of this work is a quote from Kahlil Gibran’s poem ‘On children’. We do not own anyone, especially children, ‘for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, a place you cannot visit, not even in your dreams’.
In the painting, limbs reach, join and separate. Fish move with quicksilver ease and shells are gifted. The sun takes on the architecture of a showground, and sea flags of hope appear across the water as we navigate our own relationships and the hurt that comes in letting go.
I found the letters ‘MTP’ on a drawing I made of my daughter six years ago. What they represent, I cannot remember. However, I know it would be a code for letting go, trust, longing and undying love.
James Drinkwater, 2026
