On the top floor of a warehouse in Surry Hills, Julian Meagher paints beneath an expanse of uninterrupted sky. For more than a decade, the celebrated Australian artist has worked from this light-filled studio among a community of artists, architects and designers, building an environment that feels deeply connected to the dreamlike landscapes he creates there. Music drifts constantly through the space, coffee brews throughout the day, and large-scale canvases lean against the walls as changing light pours through oversized windows. Here, Meagher sits down with friend and curator Sebastian Goldspink to reflect on artistic community, the emotional pull of the studio, and the profound ways fatherhood has reshaped his creative practice.

SG: So, Julian, your studio is one of my favourite interiors in Sydney. Not just the way it’s set up but because it’s such a great place to view your work. It feels like it was made to show your paintings. How did this studio come about?

JM: I was invited to join this family of artists, architects and designers over a decade ago. I’m on the top floor and my studio looks out through two big windows of just sky. I respond to the sky often, painting as a way to travel, looking out as a way of looking in.

SG: The studio has such stunning light, but one thing I’ve noticed is that you always have incredible music playing. Can you talk about why music is so important to you?

JM: I can’t paint without music. Silence is too noisy. Nick Cave often refers to the concept of a “poetic truth”, and I think music is the fastest way to reach that space. It’s an immediate springboard into the spiritual and the unknown. I use the rhythm and speed of music to soundtrack the different processes I use, some of which are incredibly physical. I see painting itself as a physical act of hope with poetic intention. I really like experimental music where people take risks and play. I take that spirit into my mark-making.

SG: So, when you were starting out you wouldn't have access to a space that was anything like this. Does part of you pinch yourself each day?

JM: We have rebuilt this studio multiple times. I am painting dreamscapes, so it helps to have such a meditative space to make them in. Studio size also changes the way you work; we are always backing up as far as possible to read a painting. Being able to paint multiple works at any one time has led me to painting in veils and layers a lot more successfully.

SG: And for you it's a multifunctional space – primarily a place of work or industry, but also a social space. You have lunches and also make a mean coffee. Lots of conversations, a place of ideas.

JM: Our building has a great energy. I’m lucky to paint next to Karen Black who is a phenomenal artist. I like being around hard-working people who are chasing ideas and taking risks. It's very infectious.

SG: And it’s not like all your conversations are about painting, they are about life, love the universe and everything?

JM: Totally. Painting is a way to try to make sense of the unknown and all of those big things. We all support each other on that quest.

SG: And you juggle this with being a Father as well. That would make the time you spend in your studio space super valuable.

JM: The main challenge is working within windows of available time. Before I had children, I’d often paint until midnight. Now I can't do that. The windows are tighter but there is a freedom in that as well. I put things down and have to live with the result rather than overcooking that session. Instead of seeing it as restrictive, I think the smaller amount of time makes me more willing to take risks.

SG: And one thing that's ever-present in your studio – regardless of what you are working on – are the portraits of your kids. How important is it to have that reminder on the wall?

JM: They are the first thing I see when I come into my studio. Their genuine wonderment and joy is an inspirational force. In each exhibition I include a painting of one of them sleeping, kind of as an entry point to view the neo-romantic landscapes through that lens of hope, connection and unconditional love.

SG: Do you think having children has made you a better painter?

JM: Yes. They set me free. My identity isn't as wrapped up in painting. I feel more connected to big time and the natural world. That allows me to take more risks and see more poetry and beauty in the small things. Every sky is a rainbow, and every painting is a rainbow in that sky.

SG: How does your studio space and your living space compare? Are there similarities or huge differences?

JM: Art was both revered and normalised at the same time in my home growing up. I am one of six kids, and everyone was always drawing, making and painting. I still have the pinboard my Mum used to put up my childhood artworks. In some ways, I’ve never stopped exhibiting. I also have a home studio set up next to the kitchen with watercolours and drawing materials permanently out for me and the kids. Their works are pinned-up, floor to ceiling. I have artworks by my friends hanging in both my studio and in my home. They remind me of the community that I love being part of.