Melbourne based artist Amy Kim creates bold, geometric artworks integrating the real with the surreal. Her works include interlocking geometric shapes and bold colour usage, ranging from pure abstract pieces to geometric translations of figures, objects and still life scenes.
How has your work evolved over time?
My work has evolved alongside me—through different stages of life, emotions, and shifting identities. I’ve explored various styles, from landscape to portrait to abstraction, in an attempt to understand something unknown within myself. Over time, I’ve come to embrace the idea that we are not just one fixed identity, but a collection of experiences, memories, and versions of ourselves that continue to unfold. This has led my work to become more minimal, yet more layered—holding space for those quiet, complex transitions within us.
What role does colour play in your work?
Colour is deeply emotional in my practice. I often feel that colours speak before forms do. Each one carries its own presence, and when they come together, they create subtle conversations—sometimes harmonious, sometimes slightly unresolved. I’m drawn to those delicate tensions, where colour becomes a way to express feelings that words cannot quite reach.
How do you recognise the moment when you need to create? What triggers your inspiration?
It usually comes when I feel a quiet sense of disconnection or being lost. That’s when I know I need to pick up a brush—to hear my inner voice again. Creating allows me to step away from the noise and chaos of everyday life and return to something more honest and grounded within myself. Inspiration doesn’t arrive loudly for me; it lingers softly, in moments that feel unresolved, asking to be seen.
What first sparked your passion for your current artistic practice?
It began when I returned to painting after a long pause. That moment felt incredibly personal—almost like rediscovering a part of myself I had left behind. But this time, I was different. I carried more life, more questions, more emotions. My practice became less about making something “right” and more about allowing space for what is real.
What has been the most rewarding moment in your career so far?
The most rewarding moments have been the quiet, unexpected connections. When someone stands in front of my work and shares a memory, a feeling, or even a silence that resonates with them—it feels like something invisible has been understood. Those moments remind me that art is not just about creating, but about connecting across our shared human experiences.
What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?
One of the biggest challenges has been finding and trusting my own voice, especially after exploring so many different styles. There was a time when I was searching outward, trying to define what my work should be. But over time, I realised that the answer was always inward. Embracing vulnerability—sharing my uncertainties, my emotions, and the layered identities I carry—was not easy, but it became essential. I’ve come to understand that creating art is not about having clarity all the time, but about being willing to sit with the unknown. And in that space, real connection happens.
