ZELIMIR HARASTY.
LE TONIC N.O 6
Images + words by Scout.
Written + Published for Le Tonic.
Down a dusty winding road off Hinterland Way there you will find he. Living harmoniously with the forest creatures in a converted open plan wooden barn. It’s a quaint arrangement, not for the faint hearted but for Zelimir, it is home. Actually, it is much more than home. It is a space that provides him with a sense of peace and tranquility so necessary for the mind of an artist. It humbles him in his deep-rooted thoughts and provides him with a space where his creative pursuits are endless.
We say goodbye to the day as the autumn Australian night creeps in…crickets become alive, faint creeks of the surrounding forest chatter away and the cool breeze seeps through the cracks in the old wooden barn.
To Zelimir, art is non-negotiable. It has become a part of who he is. Creating has become a means to express his emotions and make sense of the world around. His works are so deeply personal and grant us access into the mind of the artist. It is a beautiful thing.
We are welcomed by Aretha Franklin, ‘I Never Loved a Man The Way I Loved You’ spinning effortlessly on vinyl. The warming smell of brown rice congee mixed with linseed oil infiltrates our senses as we step foot into Zelimir’s space.
Like a kid in a candy stall, we are amused at every sight. There are countless books to be read, records to be listened to and even a pool table. Every crevice is covered with Zel’s touch; art is hung on every inch of wall, stacked in every corner of the room whilst sculptures stand proudly on plinths across the freshly painted burnt sienna floors.
Zel stands proudly in his abode wearing his latest creative pursuit; Mason Zelimir (watch this space). He slaps on some black rubber gloves and his iconic navy pinstriped blazer to catch the flicks of teal primer. The jacket itself is a piece of art. Being used merely as a surface to wipe his dirty paintbrushes; its sleeves are covered in remnants of his prior works.
We sit, watch and listen for hours in a blissful state of amusement; warmed by a bowl of kombu rice and an almost room temperature Asahi…
Le Tonic:
I guess the most obvious place to start would be your art.
What is your first memory of creating?
Zel:
First ACTUAL memory of creating, you know obviously there are told memories from when I was quite young… From the moment I could hold a pencil or a pen, I was drawing anything I could see. Then I guess my first memories of drawing were with my grandma. She is an amazing artist actually. Thats what she did with me a lot, well she did with all the grandchildren but particularly with me. After I lost my brother, that was her way of I guess taking my mind off things. She would fly up often to Sydney and just paint with me. I used to paint lots of army scenes; toy soldiers and tanks. I mean as I'm sure a lot of kids did. I remember that shifted when I lost my brother, I would only paint waterfalls, for years.
Le Tonic:
Why waterfalls?
Zel:
I have no idea. I know that later on when I spoke to people about it, that it's sort of a running motif. I can’t remember the symbolism, but I think it's got to do with spiritual healing. Water coming from the sky I feel like it's some connection to what is above.
Le Tonic:
I’ve seen this in some of your more recent paintings, do you think you are referencing that past?
Zel:
Some of those big calligraphy Chinese paintings have water coming from mountains in the sky. I don’t know if it’s because it’s part of my exploration into my heritage and Chinese scroll art or whether it is that. I mean fuck it’s always interconnected that’s the remarkable thing about the human mind. You might do something fifteen years later, but it has been inspired by something that has made a big impact subconsciously that had happened to you and then it comes up because that’s your way of viewing the world around you.
Le Tonic:
Were there any other family influences around you growing up?
Zel:
Not really, my grandma was always the artist. I mean my parents were always encouraging art. My Pappa, he is heavily into art, a big art collector. I grew up with loads of Indigenous art and iconic Australian artists of all walks. I was surrounded by art always. One of the things from a very young age was the smell of going to storage facilities for big galleries; the dusty garages with stacks of paintings. It is that smell of linseed oil and paint, it is the best smell ever. From a really young age I really loved that smell and now it is a part of my life, which is funny because I can’t smell it anymore as it’s with me so much every day.
Le Tonic:
It's amazing nostalgia and smell…
Zel:
It brings me straight back to being a little kid. That ore and wander that goes through your mind as a child, at any age really. I forget it as it's part of my life now but when people come over, they always are amazed that there is so much to look at. Whereas for me I am still looking at the same shit and telling myself I need to make something new. I remember flicking through paintings with my old man and thinking ‘wow there is just so much incredible imagination that people have, and they put down on whatever medium’. That is an exceptional thing.
Le Tonic:
Does your imagination influence your work?
Zel:
A bit of both. It’s all coming from your imagination somewhat. At the moment I am definitely working more on collaging images that I’ve either taken photographs of or found. Images from old communist poster art and mixing them with images from my travels to China and collaging them together. That is where I am now. But also, I love abstract, and a lot of my work has a surrealist twist to it. Obviously, there is a lot of just stepping back, looking at the canvas and thinking about what I would like to see in my fictitious landscape.
Le Tonic:
Do you think you paint for yourself or others?
Zel:
I paint because I have to. If I don’t, then I feel trapped. But if I do, then I am forced to feel the emotion. Sometimes it’s calm, sometimes it is torment. When I paint constantly, I am quite happy. In saying that obviously the opposite happens as well. Whether it makes me happy, calm or torments me. It's something that I can’t not do anymore. I only started painting when I moved up here. I got clean when I moved up here, so I had a lot of time on my hands. I got the bug and once you get it you can’t stop. It is a part of who I am now. The deeper you go in your practice, the more you can’t stop.
Le Tonic:
You have changed as an artist a lot since then, do you think being sober influenced your style?
Zel:
It is hard to say, I was in a mourning period from not being able to get fucked up. What I painted was a lot of my baggage, a lot of my sadness. It was all pain. If you look at some of the old stuff it is all so painful and that’s not necessarily saying I was sad because I got clean. I was just dealing with a pile up of fifteen years of squashing down my feelings. When I became clean, they all surfaced, and I had a lot of pain to get out. Now, it has shifted a bit.
Now I am painting for myself because I am painting to realise certain things. At the moment, it's about making sense of certain social and human conditions. What is happening in this fucked up world; it’s hard fathom that people are out there doing what they are doing to each other right this second. I often paint to process the information that I take in from the outside world.
To answer that question, yes, they are for myself but hopefully they are for others to process in their own interpretation. It is successful in its own right. It is didactic as it creates an emotional response that is completely subjective to that human.
Le Tonic:
How do you start a piece?
Zel:
Sometimes very easily. Other times I'll sit there and stare at a blank canvas for a very long time. Different energies, different feelings, whatever is happening at the time influences how I may start a painting. Sometimes I will start by just going crazy with a bit of charcoal and paint. Other times I might do a painting on Procreate, and work from that. My current body of work is missing that looseness and flare that it used to have. I feel like I may be becoming a little clinical, I know it is just a stage. Nothing ever sticks too long with me… its fucking impossible. I want to change my style after one and a half paintings.
Le Tonic:
Clinical? Do you think it is because you dealt with a lot in your past?
Zel:
Yeah, for sure. I have fixed a lot of things. I have definitely faced up to a lot of the baggage that I was holding onto. Acknowledged a lot of the stories I was telling myself; the poor me story. Granted, I am allowed to feel the pain, that’s apart of feeling. But it's one thing to acknowledge the pain and it's one thing to live in that story and end up being the mopey-poor-me-guy.
My current body of work is more external, whereas prior it reflected what was going on internally. I am looking at the human condition on a greater level, outside of myself. It is not necessarily coming from my own deep seeded emotional bank anymore, but it still is emotional. Its really hard to articulate what’s going on.
Le Tonic:
What about palate?
Zel:
I am always imagining how I can make a colour and all the different tonal values that make up that colour. Fuck, that’s just who I am. Whether it's colour or something else. I have been called rude by some people. But it's not that I don’t think you have any value to bring to the table. It's just that I get so caught up in my imagination that I actually can’t help it. I am a dreamer, it's what I do. From the moment I could hear my parents say things about me, my mum used to call me 'Jelly the Dreamer’.
Le Tonic:
You live, and you paint in the same room pretty much… can you ever just switch off?
Zel:
Naaa haha. I must go to my room if I want to read a book. Be separated. It is kind of a bummer because I hear people talk about the delightful self-care routine; having a bath, relaxing, etc. I want that, I want that so bad. But I can’t because I am so focused on getting the most out of every minute of the day. My mind is constantly on. I am doing a million things in a minute. I work full time, so when I’m back at home and after I have done all the things, there is just nothing left. Not enough time in the day.
Facebook Marketplace is my doom scroll. It’s my down time. I go and collect the most pointless shit, but they all have purpose and potential… one day.
Le Tonic:
How’s is the impact the environment has on you, and does it help you to create?
Zel:
For me the calm and tranquility of living on the property and the bush, gives me somewhat peace of mind that I need to have with the chaotic nature of the studio. I didn’t move out here to become a landscape painter. Ironic because the landscape up here is completely stunning. It's like working with the opposite kind of thing. I paint people, busy scenes with lots going on, in quite a rhythmic but chaotic way. But then I take refuge in going outside and in the garden. The plethora of different bird songs, the trees, the moon. It's moments when I go out for a breath and come back to reality that ground me.
Le Tonic:
Is that why your new work references China quite a lot?
Zel:
Well, yeah. Thats why I went. I wanted to acknowledge apart of myself that I had pushed down for so long. I grew up in Australia and went to a pretty white school where the racism was hectic. Part of my mask was being Aussie, it was like that for so long, just to survive in the environment. To fit in. I had Buckleys chance of fitting in. My name is Zelimir Jung Chung Harasty. A Croatian, Chinese, Hungarian name. Roll call was interesting. I remember being a kid wanting to be called Chris or Luke. Now I love my name, I love everything about it.
Le Tonic:
What about your sculpture work?
Zel:
I don't know why I’ve stopped doing it… I think I got impatient. I guess now I am doing it as a trade. The immediacy of painting on canvas is just so addictive, I can make something come out of my imagination in a matter of hours. Whereas with sculpture you have to be so patient. I studied it in university, but all my work ended up in the bin. I went through some harrowing personal shit towards the end of university and just never picked up my work. I have this romanticized notion that the skip man has a hell sculpture garden back at home.
Thats the other thing, being a carpenter and watching the waste at a building site is phenomenal. The waste that goes into people's houses, I can’t actually allow it to go into the skip bin… straight into the back of the Ute and into my shed.
Le Tonic:
Do you find that when you are in the zone you don’t eat?
Zel:
Yeah, yeah. When I’m deep in it. I won’t even drink water or take a piss.
Le Tonic:
And what’s that emotion?
Zel:
It is just excited. I can’t wait to see where it goes. It’s like reading a book or watching a film. You can’t stop! You need to know the outcome! It’s just like painting. I also can’t switch off this movie I am making because I don’t yet know the ending. I need to find out what happens next.
Le Tonic:
There is irony in that with the materials you use that force you to be slow.
Zel:
Yeah, we love forcing ourselves into accomplishing uncomfortable situations. Whether we do it subconsciously or consciously. To work on those parts that we are not so successful at.
Le Tonic:
Do you think that comes from a place of impulsivity?
Zel:
I can be very impulsive. Very hot headed. Very quick to react. I am getting a lot better. Especially at work, I have now started reevaluating myself.
*Shows scar on hand*
That was one. I cut the tenants in my hand. I thought I was never going to paint again. I cried and the thought of it.
Le Tonic:
Knowing you, you probably would have learnt to paint with your left hand.
Zel:
Well, I was painting left-handed for those couple of weeks whilst I was healing.
