Lana Eileen’s artistic journey is one of resilience, passion, and constant evolution. From her early days of drawing and singing as a child to becoming a globe-trotting musician, Lana has embraced every twist and turn with an open heart. When the pandemic paused her music career, she didn’t miss a beat—instead, she dove into the world of visual arts, expanding her creative expression across multiple disciplines. Her story is a testament to the power of adaptability, the importance of following your passion, and the beauty of finding inspiration in the most unexpected places.
Can you tell us about your journey as a multidisciplinary artist and musician?
I’ve always made art. As a child, I enjoyed drawing and singing, and as a teenager, my greatest passion was creative writing and literature. Music became my focus for many years as an adult: touring, recording, and performing around the world consumed my time. I was constantly travelling and working with different characters in the music industry, like producers and musicians.
However, when the pandemic happened, touring and live events had to stop, which is when I decided to focus on visual art. Since then, I’ve developed as a multidisciplinary artist, working across photography, painting, sculpture, and mixed media, and I now derive a lot of fulfilment from existing in both the music and art world.
What initially inspired you to pursue a career in the arts?
It was never going to be any other way. It’s like the fabric of my being, and there was no question as to whether or not it would also be my career, even if that presented hurdles. People are less inclined to recognise being an artist or musician as a genuine career, particularly if you’re a woman. The music industry is overwhelmingly male-dominated, and laced with misogyny; you’re often working in an environment that doesn’t afford you the kind of protection you might have in other professional settings, and it’s something I’ve experienced firsthand. But making art and music is simply what I do. For me, it’s akin to breathing, and I couldn’t be anything else.
How has your extensive travel influenced your creative work?
My travels have invariably been in service of my work, as I usually only travel for the sake of recording, residencies, or performing — but then the travel itself becomes an inspiration for future projects. I’ve written many songs about travelling around America, for example.
I also think travel is valuable because it tends to demand creative or innovative thinking; it disrupts routine and renews your perspective, from something as overt as everything being in a different language, to something as subtle as how the light switches work.
Can you share a particularly memorable experience from your travels that impacted your art?
I’ve spent quite a lot of time in Iceland undertaking artist residencies there, including being in the north of Iceland in the dead of winter, which can be an extreme environment. I think the alien beauty of that landscape has inspired me.
I had one experience where I came dangerously close to freezing to death on a remote road on New Year’s Eve, because the scheduled bus didn’t arrive. It was a dire situation, and I was lucky to survive. Later, once I’d recovered, I was travelling back down to Reykjavik, and I saw Icelandic horses carelessly running through the snow-laden fields, despite the below freezing temperature. Their stoicism held extra meaning for me given what I’d just been through, and I was inspired to build a large textile sculpture in their honour once I was back in Australia.
What challenges have you faced while working in different artistic mediums?
I think one of the challenges is adapting to the use of different tools, which usually requires some experimentation initially. I might need to learn how to make an armature, or various brush techniques. But I generally find a lot of similarities across disciplines, as if they are mutually intelligible languages, and I’ll frequently learn something about one medium through my work in another: photography has taught me about light and shade and texture, which can then be applied to my paintings, for example.
Perhaps a greater challenge is the direction of my focus, as I frequently have a multitude of different projects in different mediums or disciplines that I want to pursue, but each one will require a lot of attention, and knowing how to balance that attention and move cohesively between projects can be an arduous endeavour.
How do you balance your time between photography, mixed media, fashion, and building giant puppets?
Usually I’ll be making music and photography all the time, as those fields are the easiest and also the least demanding, but alongside that I’ll be doing at least one in-depth project, like a series of large paintings or sculptural work.
Fashion is a new area for me that I’m looking forward to exploring, whereas puppet-making is something I’ve moved away from.
What message or theme do you aim to convey through your art?
The meaning usually reveals itself in the process. Generally, I’ll have a fully-realised image in my mind that I want to articulate in a specific medium, and I’ll set about trying to recreate that image as faithfully as possible. I might have an idea for a mixed media photographic piece, in which I’ll know which colours I want to use, how I want to structure it, and so on. The same can be said for a painting. As I work, meaning might then begin to form. I might ask myself why I utilise a specific kind of imagery over and over again, or what the piece is about.
There is never a concise or overt message, and I never work with an agenda, but rather in an attempt to convey the beauty of a feeling, a moment, an instant. If anything, that is the meaning: to call attention to beauty, to create an invitation to pause and engage in the pure experience of observation.
How has your music influenced your visual art, or vice versa?
Music and visual art feel profoundly separate for me. They resemble two different worlds, not only in terms of the differences between the music industry and the art world, but also in terms of my creative practice itself. Music is my first language, and it comes very easily. It doesn’t require extreme focus or any sense of solemnity, and the culture of gigging or playing shows has an almost haphazard, chaotic edge to it. It all feels very informal. There is even a pronounced difference in how people receive me when I say I’m a musician, as opposed to when I introduce myself as an artist.
For me, the art world is weightier, loftier perhaps, and the kind of people you meet are markedly different, but also art takes a lot more time and dedication and patience, speaking for myself. I can’t sense any influence or crossover between my work as a musician and my work as an artist: they are like two different people, two different bodies I inhabit.
Can you describe a difficult period in your career and how you overcame it?
In 2021, a relationship I was in had ended, and I left New Zealand, where I had been based for several years. Travelling was still very difficult, due to the pandemic, with many restrictions in place. I floated around, moved to Tasmania for a while, and eventually ended up living overseas in Poland, but restrictions were such that I wasn’t able to get back to Australia for many months.
It was a difficult period in that I wasn’t able to play shows due to restrictions, I was limited in what I could create due to living out of a suitcase, and I was also profoundly isolated, but I overcame it by embracing the mystery and novelty of nomadism. I went to Iceland, Egypt, Canada, among other places. When I was able to fly back to Australia and New Zealand, I had such a store of ideas that I began creating things prolifically, and it opened up new doorways for me in terms of what kind of art I can make. Sometimes being forced to work within limitations can spark the most innovation.
What advice would you give to other women looking to pursue a career in the arts?
I think one of the most important things is to be aware not only of your inherent value, but also of your rights. Having a firm and clear grasp of what is and isn’t appropriate in terms of how you should be treated, and recognising that you’re entitled to be viewed as a professional, and that art-making is valid work.
For young women entering the arts, you might find yourself dealing with men who are in a position of power or authority and have a lot more industry experience, and I’ve certainly witnessed (and personally experienced) that dynamic being exploited, so it’s vital to have confidence in your right to be respected, no matter what career level you are at, as well as in your talent and abilities, and to not pedestalise anyone. Being new to the industry or having less experience doesn’t make you any less valuable, and older, more experienced professionals should be nurturing and supportive, as opposed to exploitative or coercive.
How do you stay motivated and inspired during creative blocks?
I’ve learned that they are always temporary, and I follow where the energy leads. I can always pick up my guitar and sing, no matter what, but I can’t always paint, I can’t always build things, I can’t always write. When I’m not in the right space, I pick up my guitar. I do things that come easily. And eventually I find my way back to that “flow state”, as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi described it, in which any creative act comes naturally and effortlessly.
How has your background and personal experiences shaped your artistic vision?
My father is a musician and my mother is very creative, particularly with textiles, so those things obviously played a role. There was always a guitar nearby, and I would go to see my father play at shows, and in the house my mother would have an endless array of fabric and materials. I had a very unpretentious upbringing, and it’s possible that I was raised in such a way as to avoid the kind of stifling or stultification of creativity that often happens as we mature.
Creativity requires an openness, a playfulness even, but this can easily be strangled by the wrong environment in childhood, either by discouragement or negative feedback, or through excessive pressure and rigidity. Nobody ever made me take any kind of music lesson; nobody ever told me I had to be creative. There was always positive encouragement when I would sing or draw or write, but nobody was demanding it or placing expectations on me. This allowed my creativity to flourish properly, and I felt uninhibited.
Similarly, nobody was telling me I had to pursue a specific career. I had a lot of freedom. I was also introduced to philosophy at quite a young age, and I was an extremely contemplative teenager, usually dedicating my time to reading for hours on end, or thinking about things very abstractly. I never felt like I belonged to the world. I was an observer. I think that sense of being an outsider informs my art, as the artist is often considered to be liberated from convention, existing on the fringes.
What are your future goals or projects that you are excited about?
I’m currently aiming to build a new body of work in the form of encaustic paintings, which I plan to exhibit in 2025. I’ve recently started studying sustainable fashion design alongside a Master of Fine Art, and I intend to start my own small label for one-off garments that I’ll make by hand.
As for music, I’ll be releasing a few tracks this year, with some music videos that I’ll film and edit, and a full album in 2025. I’m heading to Europe to study a program in the materiality of media in art at the University of Antwerp in August, and I’m undertaking an artist residency in Japan in November. Long-term, the goal is to get my PhD in fine art, and continue exhibiting, performing, and creating forever.
How do you engage with your audience through social media and your website?
I try to be mindful of my usage of social media, as I do find it to have a negative impact on things like attention span, self-esteem, and being present. I don’t enjoy the excessive barrage of visual stimulation, and I try to stay away from platforms that are designed for that; I’ve never used TikTok, for example. Social media is a tool through which I can share my art and keep people informed about upcoming events, and certain platforms, like Instagram, are also useful for connecting with other artists around the world. My website is like a portfolio, and it allows people to catch a glimpse of what I do and what my background is. They are useful tools for sharing art. But I think it’s important to focus on making the best work you can, as opposed to worrying about your social media following.
Lana Eileen (@lana.eileen.art) • Instagram photos and videos
FB: https://www.facebook.com/lanaeileenart
