A Geeveston-based portrait artist’s latest exhibition of tiny - and painstakingly detailed - paintings puts the everyday dramas of a quiet Tasmanian life into perspective.

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You live and paint from a 1900s cottage in Geeveston, almost an hour south of Nipaluna/Hobart. What took you so far off the beaten track?

A first home buyer’s budget was a big part of it! My partner and I really weren’t meant to buy this place - on the way to view it for the first time, we talked about it being too far away from the city. But once we saw this dodgy 1900s cottage and its spectacular setting of huge old trees, we knew it was home. We both like space, and the peace and quiet of living further away from the CBD. It’s nice to use the drive in and out of town to reset and decompress.

Have you always called Lutruwita/Tasmania home?

I was born on the north west coast of Tasmania, but spent most of my childhood in Hobart. My dad worked in quality control at the Cadbury factory, so we always lived in the northern suburbs, moving often in mum’s quest to find the perfect house.

It was a very suburban upbringing, so my sister and I had to make our own fun in backyards that were mostly concrete and a bit of unestablished garden. I became accustomed to very elaborate, very complex play - I would spend hours making or creating something from a young age.

Your creative work today is almost exclusively in portrait painting. What draws you to this discipline?

As a kid, I had this great book about mythology, and I would pore over the illustrations and paintings of the characters - they were spectacular. I knew the stories off by heart. They were so dramatic, outrageous, and involved, and I was fascinated by how the painter could capture the excitement of that narrative or scene. Some of them seem a bit overwrought today, but that’s what makes them so wonderful to me.

I started painting around the same time, and as I got older, the materials that I could access became more involved. I went from pencils to crayons to watercolour, and eventually to oil paints. I was very lucky to have an early high school art teacher who gave me free rein to start laying down the possibilities of what I could do with oil and solvent, and I quickly realised that was for me.

I can’t quite say why I’m drawn to portraiture. I could probably make more money painting Tasmanian landscapes, but I feel that I’ve been given my remit, and it’s to paint people. My role as the painter is to tell the audience something about the subject through the portrait, to help them feel like they know that person better for having seen the painting.

You’ve worked extensively as a conservator, having spent nine years at Mona, and more recently at the State Library & Archives of Tasmania. How did you get into this line of work?

I did my Arts and Fine Arts degrees at UTAS, majoring in Painting and European Studies. My parents had always said that I have to have a ‘real job’ too, and despite a brief period of rebellion, I conceded that they probably had a point. I figured that if I was making art on one side, maybe I could fix art on the other, so I went to Melbourne and did my Masters in Art Conservation, specialising in paintings. A large part of that education was learning to look at things as objectively as possible, and taking yourself out of the assessment in terms of the image itself - it’s all about the preservation of the materials as a composite. I found that quite disconcerting initially, and had to push through to get to a point where I could let go of how I actually felt about a painting or other work of art.

When I came back to Tasmania, I worked at TMAG, before going to Mona as their conservator. There were some incredible highlights there, including working with the Icons exhibition a couple of years ago. It took two or three days to unwrap and objectively inspect each of these items - devotional objects, objects of worship and deep respect - and it was so interesting to notice the iconography that would identify certain saints or martyrs, and to delve into the stories behind some of the pieces. They were all made with such beautiful materials and care, and gave a real insight into the level of devotion that these artists had.

In my new role at the State Library & Archives, I’m having to take a completely different approach to how I think about conservation. There’s an enormous amount of material to consider, and a lot of my work is about making sure it’s stored safely, but readily accessible to those who need it. The highlight so far has been working with some beautifully drawn and painted old architectural plans - they’re spectacular.

Your latest body of work, Closet Dramas, has just opened at Bett Gallery in Hobart. What inspired these paintings?

It’s in the name - these are mini-dramas that wouldn’t normally be staged in this way. They’re the meltdowns over losing your keys when you’re trying to get to work, or tripping over something in the doorway that you put there yourself. It’s not that big a deal but, in that moment, you’re not thinking rationally, and you’re all about the emotional response.

As a privileged person living in a really safe suburban community in this beautiful part of the world, I can find myself with no experience to draw upon that’s going to push any boundaries. Instead of seeing that as a negative, I’ve used it to my advantage. Closet Dramas is an opportunity to make some dramatic paintings that are really about nothing.

Emergency Forest Bath; One Commute Too Many, Effie Pryer

The six works in the exhibition also happen to be almost unfathomably small, and intricate in their detail. Why paint in miniature?

I have a side hobby of making a miniature house. It’s going to need some paintings in it, so I’ve had a great time recreating historical Tasmanian paintings for its walls. That interest started wandering sideways into making my own paintings at that scale. It’s a completely different experience - it’s a technical challenge, it’s fun, and people seem to enjoy the outcome.

I thought it would be a quicker way to work, but it’s not. Even though painting a tiny face might be only a few brushstrokes, they need to be really good brushstrokes, or they’re going to have to come off and you start again. Oil paints are stodgy and not designed to be used at this scale, so every stroke is critical.

What’s your must-do tip for every visitor to Tasmania?

We love Corinna Wilderness Village for camping and time in nature. You can take kayaks out into the back rivers, and end up a couple of hours from anyone - it’s just you, a kingfisher, a platypus, and silence.

Where are your favourite local haunts for eats and drinks around Geeveston?

Obviously Masaaki’s Sushi is a stand-out, and I’ve heard great things about the Japanese chef at Cambridge House, too. My partner and I love Harvest and Light for a quiet wine or beer.

What does a perfect day off look like for you?

We’re currently focused on trying to ‘re-wild’ our garden. When we moved in, it was planted out with European cottage-style plants, so we’re working on bringing natives back, and creating more hiding spaces for little local friends. We’re also slowly renovating the house - we had to live in the laundry for a few months while we dug up the floor - so we’ll be there at least until we’ve seen that through. After that, who knows? We might end up even deeper in the bush.

View Closet Dramas at Bett Gallery from 21 November - 13 December, 2025.

Q&A: Effie Pryer

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Recipe: Aløft’s Mushroom Dumplings