Djarra Country – 200x100cm

Greg Mallyon paints and prints the land as seen from above. His compositions read like maps rediscovered as art: snaking rivers, salt lakes, deserts and coastlines flattened into pattern and colour, with the odd human trace, a fence line, a homestead, a road, threaded through. The vantage point comes from years spent looking down from planes, helicopters and hot air balloons, but the finished works are never literal aerial photographs. They’re built from sketches, memory and research, then abstracted until geography starts to behave like design.

Medium is where Mallyon’s practice gets interesting. He moves between painting and printmaking without keeping them separate, layering etching techniques into his canvases and painterly mark-making into his prints. Cracked, sedimentary surfaces sit next to passages of flat, saturated colour, so a single work can feel geological in one corner and graphic in the next.

At its core, the work is about distance and familiarity. Zoomed out, the Australian landscape stops looking like scenery and starts looking like structure, its rivers and ridgelines revealing a kind of order you’d never notice standing in it. That shift, from ground level to overview, is the constant thread running through everything he makes.

Greg Mallyon paints and prints the land as seen from above. His compositions read like maps rediscovered as art: snaking rivers, salt lakes, deserts and coastlines flattened into pattern and colour, with the odd human trace, a fence line, a homestead, a road, threaded through. The vantage point comes from years spent looking down from planes, helicopters and hot air balloons, but the finished works are never literal aerial photographs. They’re built from sketches, memory and research, then abstracted until geography starts to behave like design.

Medium is where Mallyon’s practice gets interesting. He moves between painting and printmaking without keeping them separate, layering etching techniques into his canvases and painterly mark-making into his prints. Cracked, sedimentary surfaces sit next to passages of flat, saturated colour, so a single work can feel geological in one corner and graphic in the next.

At its core, the work is about distance and familiarity. Zoomed out, the Australian landscape stops looking like scenery and starts looking like structure, its rivers and ridgelines revealing a kind of order you’d never notice standing in it. That shift, from ground level to overview, is the constant thread running through everything he makes.