Sydney-based painter Emily Handlin grew up watching Road Runner cartoons, which means the American Southwest lived in her imagination — all rust and open road and outsized mythology — long before she ever set foot there. It shows. Her latest body of work, HIDE ME, presents a cast of predators: tigers, leopards, zebras, crocodiles rendered in bold flat mark-making on Perspex, a reflective surface that shifts with light and movement and the position of whoever is standing in front of it. The show’s central tension is the one between camouflage and visibility — the desire to disappear and the need to be seen — and it’s a tension Handlin understands personally. We spoke with her about desert mythology, painting in physical layers, and why her predators never bare their teeth.
HIDE ME is currently on view. View the full exhibition here.
The American Southwest keeps surfacing in your work despite being based in Sydney. Can you describe what that landscape does to you that your own doesn’t? Is it something you sought out, or did it find you?
Like a lot of kids who grew up in the 90s, I was raised on cartoons like Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, so the American Southwest, with its endless roads and rusty signs, lived in my imagination long before I ever set foot there. When I finally visited the Mojave and Death Valley, it felt strangely familiar and somehow very important to me. I’m drawn to the mythology, the “badassery,” and the tension between its vast beauty and extreme danger.
Do your desert visits happen before a body of work or do they surface in the work afterward — is it research or retrieval?
Both. Desert visits inspire me energetically, but I’m drawn to the desert as more of a symbol than a place. It’s where I set stories about freedom, danger, and the wild parts of ourselves.
HIDE ME is built around the tension between camouflage and visibility. When you’re working, which instinct is stronger in you — to conceal or to be seen? Does that shift depending on the piece?
The instinct to be seen is stronger, but only just. I’m quite introverted, but I feel a strong need to create and share my work. In many ways, HIDE ME explores that same tension: the vulnerability that comes with being visible.
The move to Perspex is significant — it introduces light and viewer movement as active elements in the work. Was that a gradual decision or a sudden one? What were you chasing that canvas couldn’t give you?
I was looking for a surface that felt more alive than canvas. It catches light, reflects its surroundings, and changes with your perspective, making the work feel more like an experience rather than an object.
The flatness in your mark-making feels very deliberate against the dimensionality the Perspex introduces. How do you think about that relationship between surface and depth while you’re painting?
I’m less interested in creating the illusion of depth than I am in creating actual physical depth. The dimensionality of my paintings comes from layers and layers of paint, oil pastel, and oil pencil that are built up, carved back, and reworked — while the reflective Perspex underneath introduces light and a sense of aliveness to the painting.
There’s a recurring cast here: big cats, striped animals, creatures associated with pattern as identity. How do you choose your subjects, and do you think of them as stand-ins for something human?
I’m drawn to animals with patterns designed for camouflage, and I’m far more interested in predators rather than sweet or harmless animals. Interestingly, my predators never appear threatening — no baring teeth or claws. That’s why I think they do become stand-ins for human qualities, because I like people who possess a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to announce itself either.
The desert Southwest has a long history of artists “discovering” it — O’Keeffe being the obvious touchstone. How do you think about being an outsider drawn to a place that has been so mythologized?
I do think being an outsider is part of the fascination. The mythology precedes the place. I’m less interested in the desert as a geographical location, and more interested in it as a cultural symbol — a place that carries character and meaning. Instead of trying to resolve that tension, it’s something I’ll probably continue exploring through my work.
Emily Handlin is represented by ARTCLUB at OUR House, founded by Claudia Lowe. To enquire about available works, contact hello@artclubatourhouse.com.
Credits:
Installation photography: @astudios__.
Opening night photography: @justfilm_.
