Artist Q&A
Tracie Peisley
"I do not wish to be defined by trauma or mental health difficulties, although both have shaped who I am.
What interests me now is how experiences are transformed rather than simply endured".
When did you start making (Visual art/other) and why?
I’ve been making art for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is the wonder of opening a packet of felt-tip pens and seeing the colours fan out before me. Drawing gave me a place to disappear into and a way of making sense of the world.
As a child I was introspective and creativity became an enduring companion. At my fourth secondary school, I followed a friend, Joanne Smith, into the art room. That decision changed the course of my life. Through art I discovered an entirely different way of seeing. The ordinary world seemed to explode with possibilities.
I was fortunate to have a tutor, Arthur Neal, who believed in me and encouraged curiosity rather than certainty. His commitment to process left a lasting impression. Between Joanne opening the door and Arthur helping me walk through it, I found something I had not experienced before: purpose. Art has remained a constant presence ever since. It has accompanied me through periods of discovery, confusion, loss and transformation. More than a career or vocation, it has been a way of understanding both myself and the world around me.
How would you describe your making process? How do you use your energy and time to produce work alongside your illness? What places and spaces do you make work in?
My making process has changed dramatically over the years. When I was younger, I worked until I felt I had arrived somewhere. The process was driven by urgency rather than understanding. Creativity became both a refuge and a means of survival.
Training initially as a painter and later as an Art Psychotherapist expanded my understanding of what art could be. Working across glass, metal, clay, paint and stone taught me that materials themselves can think alongside us. I realised that the unconscious was not an obstacle to overcome but one of the primary sources of my work.
For many years I believed my work was about revealing truths. During lockdown, after years of therapeutic work and research into trauma, I recognised that much of my life had been lived in a state of dissociation. A mentor encouraged me to sort my work into thematic groups and I noticed how frequently images of disguise appeared. What I thought was transparency was often concealment.
My work had been protecting me as much as expressing me.
Today I see making as a dialogue between conscious intention and unconscious knowledge. Whether I am painting, sculpting, carving stone or working in ceramics, I am interested in memory, identity, loss and transformation.
The spaces I work in have evolved around my capacities. I once joked that I worked in the space between the radiator and the bed, and there were times when this was almost literally true. My practice has adapted to my health rather than the other way around.
Following the deaths of my parents, I began carving stone. Stone offered something I deeply needed: stability. It does not rush, collapse or disappear. There is something profoundly reassuring in its stillness. Moving from two-dimensional work into free-standing sculpture also carries symbolic significance for me. It represents an increasing willingness to occupy space.
Trauma has influenced my life and work, but creativity is not simply a response to suffering. It is also a source of curiosity, meaning and delight. The innocence of being a beginner still excites me. Through everything, art has remained my most enduring companion.
What inspires you? Books, films, art, podcasts etc. Recently or in the past.
For many years I was preoccupied with understanding trauma and its effects. Eventually I reached a point where I felt I understood enough to loosen my grip on that particular study and return more fully to imagination, symbolism and creativity.
I am inspired by work that carries a sense of psychological truth. Folk art, votive objects, outsider art and personal collections often move me more deeply than polished perfection. I am drawn to objects that have lived a life and seem to contain stories within them. Antique markets are a continual source of fascination.
I see a great deal of art and listen to many podcasts. More recently I have become interested in Jungian psychology, dreams, mythology and the symbolic imagination. These interests resonate strongly with my own practice, which often emerges from unconscious imagery rather than predetermined ideas.
Much of my inspiration comes from paying attention. A fragment of pottery, an old photograph, a dream image or a chance encounter can become the starting point for a new body of work. I trust the connections will reveal themselves over time
How would you describe your relationship to the wider world?
My relationship with the wider world is complex. Part of me remains wary and suspicious, carrying an old expectation that danger may be around the corner. At the same time, I am deeply interested in people, relationships and meaning. I do not wish to be defined by trauma or mental health difficulties, although both have shaped who I am. What interests me now is how experiences are transformed rather than simply endured. Through years of therapy, study and creative practice, I have come to understand recovery as a process of gathering scattered fragments and bringing them into relationship with one another.
Art has been central to that process. It has provided a language for experiences that could not be spoken and a way of approaching aspects of myself that remained hidden. Through making, I have learned that all parts of a life deserve acknowledgement, even the contradictory and difficult ones. The opportunity to bring many strands of my practice together in the Deserters exhibition feels significant. For much of my life I worked in separate compartments, moving between different media and different selves. This exhibition allows those fragments to stand together. In that sense, it reflects not only my artistic journey but also an ongoing process of integration.
Through everything, art has remained constant. It cannot be taken from me and asks only that I begin.
Tracie Peisley June 2026
Read more about Tracie Peisley: