TROUBLESOME STRANGER
Anna Louise Richardson, Troublesome Stranger, 2026, Jennings Kerr, Photography by Mim Stirling
‘Troublesome Stranger’ is a show that unpacks our relationship with notions of beauty. It looks to invasive species of flowers as
a means of addressing how preconceived ideas of beauty can often be misplaced through our connections to the gardens of
the United Kingdom and Europe. Following from her series of drawings from her properties tack shed, Richardson looks out
across the farm, beyond the previously agapantha lined drive and onto a broader landscape. Domestic gardens that have left
their mark on the landscape, invasive weeds with their alluring ‘prettiness’ become central to a series embedded with duality.
These drawings go far beyond the notion of botanical study in their richly seductive imaging, their teasing of pollination and
the expression of minute details like droplets on leaves and thorns on stems. As always, Richardson’s images pack a punch in
their graphic play, inventive approach to scale and compositional cropping of image. They beguile like the flower does the
insect, they ask us to see both their beauty but to question why we think of them as beautiful. In my previous text on
Richardson’s work, I imagined her children running free on the family farm, linking daisy chains. It seems natural, in a
practice that deals so personally with this multigenerational farm and the natural world that it sits on, Richardson has turned
her focus to the floral. The same sense of wonder and play exists in these drawings. The ability to understand and appreciate
the landscape and all it offers but to see the difficulties that come with these introduced species.
When I look at this show I am reminded of the work of the late American photographer Robert Maplethorpe. No one teased
at the erotic through floral still life quite like Maplethorpe. The open state, the frilly petal, the erect anther, eye candy. I think
the comprehensive work in black and white film photography jumps out in a complimentary sense as Richardson renders her
images through a photorealist mode. The charcoal drawing of Robert Longo also comes to mind in the playful approach to
scale and aggressive cropping-in on image. Richardson’s softer and less contrasted image owes to both her deft skill but also
her material. The ground of the cement fibreboard is a dull grey, suitable for its building application but also its warmth sits
into her shading and registers in the image. I also think it adds to the photographic read of the drawing. If we think of the
drawing as creating the illusion of reality then the ‘cut-out’ works take this to another level. These are pieces that begin by
cutting the subjects shape from the cement board before the drawing begins. The result is flowers standing tall in the space,
butterflies landing but floating just out from the white wall, and snails sliding along or up the wall. These pieces bring me back
to the playful and imaginative approach that Richardson has with drawing. They show us that drawing extends out from and
off the paper sheet, into space as sculptural drawing as well as bringing to mind child’s play. Here we feel the infusion of her
kids and adventures on the farm or even in the garden.
The ‘Extracts’ works include five tightly cropped-in, hyper-detailed drawings of flowering plants—oleander, prickly pear,
bougainvillea, lantana, and lavender. Richardson has played with focus and intentionally blurred the backgrounds in order to
evoke what she states as “ an ongoing loss of memory, biodiversity, and the original landscape, beneath the weight of continual
occupation.” The plants are species that Richardson observes in areas around Perth, where home gardens were established
and they remain long after the homes, as markers of previous houses. Richardson sees the works as part nostalgia and part
critique, in that they have both a visually pleasing quality and exist as a symbol of the erasure of the native landscape. These
domestic gardens often incorporate plant varieties that are readily available in nurseries and hardware stores, that are actually
declared as weeds. Despite the negative impacts of introduced species, the series also acknowledges the positive aspects of
these common garden plants. The beauty of gardens, the ability of plants to cool the planet, and the peaceful and restorative
qualities of being in gardens. Richardson’s play on the exhibition space as garden, sees the snails creeping around and us
imagining their slimy trail, or the Monarch butterfly pollinating as it gracefully moves between flowers.
As the water drips down from one petal to the next, and onto the anthers that are standing proud and ready for the Monarch’s
descent. A minute puff of pollen into the air. The butterfly lands delicately and is coated in pollen as it feeds on the nectar of
the flower. It readies itself to transport pollen from one flower to the next. These ‘troublesome strangers’ scattered across our
landscape, introduced weeds that we are conditioned to read as beautiful, reflect our cultural hybridity. They are settled into a
complex environment and are perhaps contradictory to many of the ecosystems they inhabit. The agapanthus that bordered
the farm’s driveway was removed to mitigate slithering visitors but maybe Richardson had another agenda. It’s fascinating, just
like within art history, subjectivity becomes relevant, those same flowers or weeds might have landed in another garden and be
cherished. Richardson despite her tight crops on her flowers, is looking a little broader and asking questions of how these
plants are affecting the ecosystems they inhabit. These drawings show the control of her medium and impressive
understanding of material. They celebrate the charcoal and hardware cement boards but I feel Richardson’s skill lies in her
ability to see. Her receptive positioning on the land and her big heart to feel the things that she does. This show, once again, is
complex in its subject and sophisticated in its ability to be read in multiple ways. Like the busy pollinators, we can be attracted
to beauty without understanding how or why, or we can look deeper and question associations of plants. We can look at these
charcoals and admire the skilled drawing and ‘beauty’ without further thought or we can consider how they operate on a
deeper conceptual level. Richardson looks closely at the world that she occupies, she asks questions of it in order to offer new
perspectives to her audience. We might all look a little closer at our gardens and wonder if the ‘Iris’ or other varieties are in
fact beautiful, and why?
James Kerr, 2026
a means of addressing how preconceived ideas of beauty can often be misplaced through our connections to the gardens of
the United Kingdom and Europe. Following from her series of drawings from her properties tack shed, Richardson looks out
across the farm, beyond the previously agapantha lined drive and onto a broader landscape. Domestic gardens that have left
their mark on the landscape, invasive weeds with their alluring ‘prettiness’ become central to a series embedded with duality.
These drawings go far beyond the notion of botanical study in their richly seductive imaging, their teasing of pollination and
the expression of minute details like droplets on leaves and thorns on stems. As always, Richardson’s images pack a punch in
their graphic play, inventive approach to scale and compositional cropping of image. They beguile like the flower does the
insect, they ask us to see both their beauty but to question why we think of them as beautiful. In my previous text on
Richardson’s work, I imagined her children running free on the family farm, linking daisy chains. It seems natural, in a
practice that deals so personally with this multigenerational farm and the natural world that it sits on, Richardson has turned
her focus to the floral. The same sense of wonder and play exists in these drawings. The ability to understand and appreciate
the landscape and all it offers but to see the difficulties that come with these introduced species.
When I look at this show I am reminded of the work of the late American photographer Robert Maplethorpe. No one teased
at the erotic through floral still life quite like Maplethorpe. The open state, the frilly petal, the erect anther, eye candy. I think
the comprehensive work in black and white film photography jumps out in a complimentary sense as Richardson renders her
images through a photorealist mode. The charcoal drawing of Robert Longo also comes to mind in the playful approach to
scale and aggressive cropping-in on image. Richardson’s softer and less contrasted image owes to both her deft skill but also
her material. The ground of the cement fibreboard is a dull grey, suitable for its building application but also its warmth sits
into her shading and registers in the image. I also think it adds to the photographic read of the drawing. If we think of the
drawing as creating the illusion of reality then the ‘cut-out’ works take this to another level. These are pieces that begin by
cutting the subjects shape from the cement board before the drawing begins. The result is flowers standing tall in the space,
butterflies landing but floating just out from the white wall, and snails sliding along or up the wall. These pieces bring me back
to the playful and imaginative approach that Richardson has with drawing. They show us that drawing extends out from and
off the paper sheet, into space as sculptural drawing as well as bringing to mind child’s play. Here we feel the infusion of her
kids and adventures on the farm or even in the garden.
The ‘Extracts’ works include five tightly cropped-in, hyper-detailed drawings of flowering plants—oleander, prickly pear,
bougainvillea, lantana, and lavender. Richardson has played with focus and intentionally blurred the backgrounds in order to
evoke what she states as “ an ongoing loss of memory, biodiversity, and the original landscape, beneath the weight of continual
occupation.” The plants are species that Richardson observes in areas around Perth, where home gardens were established
and they remain long after the homes, as markers of previous houses. Richardson sees the works as part nostalgia and part
critique, in that they have both a visually pleasing quality and exist as a symbol of the erasure of the native landscape. These
domestic gardens often incorporate plant varieties that are readily available in nurseries and hardware stores, that are actually
declared as weeds. Despite the negative impacts of introduced species, the series also acknowledges the positive aspects of
these common garden plants. The beauty of gardens, the ability of plants to cool the planet, and the peaceful and restorative
qualities of being in gardens. Richardson’s play on the exhibition space as garden, sees the snails creeping around and us
imagining their slimy trail, or the Monarch butterfly pollinating as it gracefully moves between flowers.
As the water drips down from one petal to the next, and onto the anthers that are standing proud and ready for the Monarch’s
descent. A minute puff of pollen into the air. The butterfly lands delicately and is coated in pollen as it feeds on the nectar of
the flower. It readies itself to transport pollen from one flower to the next. These ‘troublesome strangers’ scattered across our
landscape, introduced weeds that we are conditioned to read as beautiful, reflect our cultural hybridity. They are settled into a
complex environment and are perhaps contradictory to many of the ecosystems they inhabit. The agapanthus that bordered
the farm’s driveway was removed to mitigate slithering visitors but maybe Richardson had another agenda. It’s fascinating, just
like within art history, subjectivity becomes relevant, those same flowers or weeds might have landed in another garden and be
cherished. Richardson despite her tight crops on her flowers, is looking a little broader and asking questions of how these
plants are affecting the ecosystems they inhabit. These drawings show the control of her medium and impressive
understanding of material. They celebrate the charcoal and hardware cement boards but I feel Richardson’s skill lies in her
ability to see. Her receptive positioning on the land and her big heart to feel the things that she does. This show, once again, is
complex in its subject and sophisticated in its ability to be read in multiple ways. Like the busy pollinators, we can be attracted
to beauty without understanding how or why, or we can look deeper and question associations of plants. We can look at these
charcoals and admire the skilled drawing and ‘beauty’ without further thought or we can consider how they operate on a
deeper conceptual level. Richardson looks closely at the world that she occupies, she asks questions of it in order to offer new
perspectives to her audience. We might all look a little closer at our gardens and wonder if the ‘Iris’ or other varieties are in
fact beautiful, and why?
James Kerr, 2026
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Anna Louise Richardson, Extracts: prickly pear, 2025, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 90 cm
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Anna Louise Richardson, Extracts: lavender, 2025, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 90 cm
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Anna Louise Richardson, Extracts: lantana, 2025, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 90 cm
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Anna Louise Richardson, Extracts: bougainvillea, 2025, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 90 cm
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Anna Louise Richardson, Extracts: oleander, 2025, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 90 cm
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L: Anna Louise Richardson, Iris, 2026, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 60 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Agapanthus, 2026, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 60 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Agapanthus, 2026, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90 x 60 cm
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Anna Louise Richardson, Yellow Flag Iris, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 221 x 92 x 3.5 cm
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L: Anna Louise Richardson, Arum Lily I, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 160 x 115 x 3.5 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Arum Lily II, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 202 x 95 x 3.5 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Arum Lily II, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 202 x 95 x 3.5 cm
Anna Louise Richardson, Monarch, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, wire, emu feathers, 64 x 138 x 3.5 cm
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L: Anna Louise Richardson, Monarch & Blackberry, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 63.5 cm diameter, 2.6 cm deep
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Chrysalis, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 87 x 43 x 3.5 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Chrysalis, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 87 x 43 x 3.5 cm
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L: Anna Louise Richardson, Snail I, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 66 x 34 x 3.5 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Snail II, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 28 x 63 x 3.5 cm
R: Anna Louise Richardson, Snail II, 2026, charcoal on cut cement fibreboard, 28 x 63 x 3.5 cm
Anna Louise Richardson
b. 1992, Perth, Australia
Lives and works on Bindjareb Nyoongar Boodja outside Perth, Australia
Anna Louise Richardson’s drawing-based practice is grounded in personal experience and rural life. Growing up on a beef cattle farm, where she continues to live with her family, Richardson’s work explores themes of parenthood, intergenerational relationships, mortality, and human-animal connection. Her drawings use animals, domestic objects, and agricultural references, blending realism with stylised elements, exaggerated scale, flattened perspectives, and cut-out shapes to heighten the emotional impact of familiar imagery.
As a non-Indigenous Australian living on a multigenerational farm, Richardson’s practice is shaped by an awareness of the legacies and privileges of living and working on unceded Aboriginal land. Her work reflects on how identity is formed through place, family, and memory, engaging with the complexities of rural life. At the heart of Richardson's practice is intimate, regionally grounded storytelling and a commitment to radical optimism—finding beauty and connection in the everyday.
A graduate of Curtin University (2013), Richardson has developed a strong practice as both an artist and curator. Notable projects include When Night Falls (2020) at Maitland Regional Art Gallery, and Museums & Galleries of NSW national tour of The Good (2023–2026), a major solo exhibition exploring concepts of goodness through the lens of motherhood and rural life, co-commissioned by Wagga Wagga Art Gallery and The Condensery. In 2023, she was the inaugural winner of the Girra: Fraser Coast National Art Prize at Hervey Bay Regional Gallery.
b. 1992, Perth, Australia
Lives and works on Bindjareb Nyoongar Boodja outside Perth, Australia
Anna Louise Richardson’s drawing-based practice is grounded in personal experience and rural life. Growing up on a beef cattle farm, where she continues to live with her family, Richardson’s work explores themes of parenthood, intergenerational relationships, mortality, and human-animal connection. Her drawings use animals, domestic objects, and agricultural references, blending realism with stylised elements, exaggerated scale, flattened perspectives, and cut-out shapes to heighten the emotional impact of familiar imagery.
As a non-Indigenous Australian living on a multigenerational farm, Richardson’s practice is shaped by an awareness of the legacies and privileges of living and working on unceded Aboriginal land. Her work reflects on how identity is formed through place, family, and memory, engaging with the complexities of rural life. At the heart of Richardson's practice is intimate, regionally grounded storytelling and a commitment to radical optimism—finding beauty and connection in the everyday.
A graduate of Curtin University (2013), Richardson has developed a strong practice as both an artist and curator. Notable projects include When Night Falls (2020) at Maitland Regional Art Gallery, and Museums & Galleries of NSW national tour of The Good (2023–2026), a major solo exhibition exploring concepts of goodness through the lens of motherhood and rural life, co-commissioned by Wagga Wagga Art Gallery and The Condensery. In 2023, she was the inaugural winner of the Girra: Fraser Coast National Art Prize at Hervey Bay Regional Gallery.