Steeped in myth, memory, and the quiet magic of the natural world, artist Julianna Byrne creates paintings that feel both incredibly dreamlike and yet deeply rooted in place. Her work drifts between the real and the ethereal, shaped by rural childhood landscapes, the wild west coast of Ireland, and now the mist-laced woodlands of Cornwall.
In this conversation, she reflects on the origins of her visual world and the stories and spirits that emerge through her process.
Photo by Amelia Pemberton
Let’s start at the beginning, could you tell us a bit about where you grew up, and do you think this has affected the work you create?
I grew up on a farm in Berkshire, and had a rural upbringing surrounded by beautiful woodland. I also spent a huge amount of time on the wild west coast of Ireland where my family are from, and I think a lot of my fascination with mythical themes comes from there.
We see you now live in Cornwall – are there particular landscapes or things about life in Cornwall that influence your visual world? How does where you live seep into your paintings?
The landscape I live in is quite magical and steeped in folklore. We live very close to the sea, which is a constant inspiration for me, but were also surrounded by ancient oak woodlands, some of which are temperate rainforests, and you can imagine all sorts of elemental spirits here.
You often depict mythical landscapes filled with ferns, ethereal flowers and spirits. What draws you to these dreamlike natural worlds, and how did they first begin to appear in your work?
I have a very abstract imagination, and painting is one of the only ways I can truly express some of my thoughts and dreams. I’ve always been fascinated with trying to capture the strange and beguiling nature of the dreamworld.
Your paintings balance serenity with something quite haunting, what emotion do you hope viewers feel when they encounter your pieces?
I hope that my paintings create a sense of wonder and peace.
Have there been any books, films or pieces of folklore that have particularly shaped your visual language?
Too many to name but my absolute favourite is Alice in wonderland, the surrealism is incredible. There is a surrealist film called ‘The Colour of Pomegranates’, which is a literal feast for the eyes. I could frame every still.
Could you tell us more about your creative process? What techniques do you tend to lean towards to produce your signature softness and detail?
I like to keep my paintings quite fluid; they seem to shapeshift before my eyes. when using oils, I’m constantly layering, diluting, rubbing back, until I reach a certain softness, and then I know I need to stop working it and walk away. It’s a feeling rather than something visual.
Do you have any artistic themes that you keep returning to? And if so, what do you think motivates you to keep returning to them?
I’ve often included a nymph or a goddess in my work, or an essence of divine femininity. However, recently I seem to be creating works without her showing up. I’m sure she will be back soon though, perhaps evolved slightly.
Where do your narratives come from? Do you imagine stories or characters when you paint, or do they reveal themselves organically once you start painting?
My mind can sometimes feel overrun with themes and visuals that make me want to paint, but I rarely have a clear image in my head of what the painting will be like. The story seems to reveal itself as a paint.
How do you best enter the headspace where you create your art?
I always light a candle or incense and where possible do some breathwork and ground myself into my practice. I find having music on very helpful for getting into the creative flow. The find the worst thing I can do for me creative flow is look at Instagram, but sometimes I’m guilty of that too!
How do you approach colour in your work, especially given your use of delicate palettes and subtle tones?
Colour combinations trigger a unique, physical feeling in me, I suspect I may have mild synaesthesia. It’s a tangible rush when I discover the ideal palette.
Where is your sanctuary? (either real or imagined)
A secluded Cornish or Irish beach in the summer, barefoot, cold enough to wear a jumper. preferably with my children.
What are your hopes for the future? (both artistic and otherwise)
I’d love to have a solo exhibition in the next year, and to keep creating ethereal works. A dream would be to travel to a beautiful city abroad for my own solo show one day.