Based in the Dandenong Ranges, Lani Strangio's practice explores instinct, memory, and the human desire to find meaning within abstraction. She works intuitively, building layered paintings through energetic gestures, rhythmic mark-making, and bursts of colour before slowly tracing and uncovering hidden forms within the surface.
Balancing spontaneity with refinement, her works evoke the instinct to search for patterns and shapes. Rich in texture and movement, the paintings invite viewers into playful, contemplative spaces that reconnect with curiosity, nostalgia, and inner youthfulness.
How do you want people to feel when they view your art?
I hope my paintings reconnect people with their inner child — that sense of youthfulness, whimsy, and imagination. I want viewers to slow down and search within the work the same way we search for shapes in clouds or patterns in tree branches. There’s a softness and playfulness I hope people can return to when they spend time with the paintings.
Are there recurring themes or subjects that continually draw you in?
A recurring theme in my work is what I call bichinhos — little forms or shapes that begin to resemble strange creatures or beings. They remind me of childhood, of my avó and avô, and of the instinct humans have to search for meaning and familiarity in abstract things. I notice these shapes everywhere: clouds, fabrics, shadows, trees. My paintings become a space where those hidden figures can emerge and exist.
Do you follow a structured creative process, or is it more intuitive?
My process is very intuitive in the beginning. I usually paint when I feel like I need to release something emotionally or physically. There’s a lot of movement involved — I dance, I move wildly, and the painting starts from that same chaotic energy. The first layers are expressive and impulsive. Then comes a quieter stage where I begin refining, tracing shapes, and bringing calm into the work. I spend a long time in that part of the process, finding stillness and clarity within the chaos.
How has your background and where you’ve lived influenced your art?
Living in the Dandenong Ranges has deeply influenced the atmosphere of my work. Surrounded by mist, dense forest, shifting light, and constant natural movement, it becomes easy to slip into imagination and pattern-seeking. The environment feels alive and emotionally charged, and that sensibility naturally finds its way into my paintings. There is both wildness and quiet here, and that duality mirrors my process.
I often title my works in Portuguese as a way of staying connected to my upbringing, my family, and especially my avó. It feels instinctive—like carrying pieces of myself into the work. Even when the paintings are abstract, these references create an emotional thread that ties the work back to memory.
How do you recognise the moment when you need to create? What triggers your inspiration?
Usually, I recognise it physically before anything else. I feel restless, emotional, overstimulated, or like something needs to move through me. Painting becomes a release. Inspiration doesn’t usually come from one specific image or idea — it comes from sensation, memory, movement, and observation. I’m constantly noticing shapes and faces hidden in ordinary things, and eventually those fragments find their way into the work.
