Behind the Brushstrokes: A Conversation with Painter, Olivia Tew
- Emily Hadley
- May 13
- 8 min read
Olivia works from her cottage garden studio in a small Devon village on the outskirts of Exeter. Through her distinctive use of colour, expressive mark marking and loose gestural textured surfaces her uplifting work evokes a sense of energy, freedom and nostalgia. Her stunning still life paintings have proved very popular indeed in my Devon art gallery! Read on to discover more about the things that inspire her and her art journey so far.
What sparks your initial ideas for a piece? Is it a feeling, an image, or something else entirely?
This has changed over time, but more often than not, it starts with a feeling. Creating work is quite a reflective process for me—I check in with myself, notice how I'm feeling, and that emotion often shapes the direction of the piece. Over the past year, since moving to Devon, I’ve found a lot of comfort and joy in painting nature and landscapes. It’s become a way for me to settle into my surroundings—almost like nesting—and to find a sense of home here.
Before that, when I lived in London, I was more drawn to painting scenes of people. It’s an incredible city, full of inspiration, but it can also feel quite transient. So many lives constantly moving around you. Capturing those snapshots of people was my way of feeling connected to others in that busy, ever-shifting space.
I think that thread of connection runs throughout my work—whether it's to a place, a person, or a moment. It helps me feel grounded, and I can see that theme reflected across everything I’ve created.
Do you have a specific routine or ritual to get into a creative headspace?
I’d love to say I have a solid routine—but honestly, I don’t think I’ve fully found it yet. There are definitely things that help me get into the right mindset, though. It really depends on how I’m feeling that day, and I tend to respond to that. I’ve found I paint best when I feel a balance of calm, energy, and inspiration. So any “ritual” I have is really about trying to create that state for myself.
Sometimes painting can bring up a lot of resistance, especially after a break or after finishing a big project. So I often start with something grounding to shift my energy. I love working in the mornings—that time of day feels full of potential. I’ll make a coffee in my Moka pot (a small but comforting ritual), and then sit down with my journal. That space to reflect and brain-dump is really clarifying for me—it helps me figure out where I’m at emotionally and creatively. I often use “future journaling” too, which helps me plan and get inspired at the same time.
Other things that help are going for walks, listening to podcasts, visiting exhibitions, or just playing with colour palettes. But honestly, I think one of the most important parts of my process is knowing when to take a break. You can’t force creativity—it often flows best when you give it space.
Do you have a plan for a piece before you start, or do you allow it to develop organically?
I’m definitely more of a planner, especially in recent years as I’ve focused more on working with colour. I’ve become quite intentional about how I use colour—thinking about which combinations create harmony, tension, or a particular mood. There’s something powerful about how colour relationships can evoke feeling, and that’s something I really try to bring forward in my work.
That said, I do sometimes miss the spontaneity and naivety of my earlier pieces. There was a kind of freedom in not overthinking things and just trusting my instincts. I think there’s a lot of value in that, and I’d like to return to that way of working a bit more—maybe finding a balance between thoughtful planning and intuitive play.
Do you imagine your art in interior spaces? Is this an important part of your practice?
Oh my life—no, I never used to! I didn’t see myself as someone who made work for interiors at all. My focus was more on emotional impact and storytelling, the kind of work you’d maybe see in a gallery space. I actually studied textile design and have always felt a natural pull toward design, but I used to feel quite a bit of tension around what that meant—especially in contrast to my desire to create work with social impact or rooted in community.
Painting has always been something I’ve loved, but that internal conflict kept me from really committing to my creative practice for a long time. Lately, though, I’ve found a new sense of fun and freedom in leaning into the idea of my work living in people’s homes. I really like the thought of bringing all of those parts of myself—design, emotion, storytelling—into everyday spaces.
I love how interiors are so personal, how they reflect who we are. The objects, the artwork, the colours we choose—they say something about us. Creating work that can be part of someone’s home, that brings comfort, joy, or a sense of belonging, feels really meaningful. And on a personal level, just allowing painting to be something I do for myself again—especially when I think of it through the lens of interiors—is bringing me a lot of joy. And I think there’s a lot of value in that too.
What is your biggest happy accident that turned out amazing in a piece?
Recently, I’d say it’s the piece Marilyn. I was working on a new body of work, trying to bring together everything I’d learned over the past year. Most of what I’d been making was on smaller paper—A3 or less—so moving up in scale and exploring a subject I hadn’t tackled before felt a bit daunting.
Marilyn actually started as something completely different. There was a painting underneath that I really didn’t like—I’d been working from a still life, and it just wasn’t flowing. So I painted over it. I’ve realised I much prefer working in a way that feels more natural and less forced, and lately I’ve been leaning into spontaneity and using my imagination more.
My sister has been a big inspiration for that shift. She’s incredibly creative—finishing her final year at uni—and has done everything from acting at the Fringe and stand-up comedy to writing a comedy murder mystery set in an alternate version of London, where all the characters are animals instead of humans! She’s always had this brilliant way of letting her imagination run wild, and I’ve really admired that freedom in her process. It’s something I’ve only tapped into in my own work a few times before, but I’ve been trying to make more space for it.
With Marilyn, I let go of the plan and just followed a mix of instinct and imagination. It became this distillation of thoughts, memories, and things I enjoy—and it’s been getting a lot of love, which has been really lovely to see. That looser, less overworked approach feels fresh and freeing, and the whole piece feels like a happy accident in the best way.
Do you have any lucky tools or materials you can’t work without?
I actually do—though it’s not a tool in the traditional sense. It’s more like a little shrine of objects I’ve collected over time, which I keep pinned to a board in my workspace. Each item is connected in some way to the people I love, and having them there helps bring a sense of love, grounding, and connection into the space. It’s a quiet reminder of who I am and, ultimately, who I’m making the work for.
Who are your artistic heroes, and how have they influenced your work?
My parents and family, without a doubt. I grew up in Lincolnshire, where modern art isn’t necessarily a big part of the culture—but I really appreciate where I’m from, as it nurtured me in other ways. My family aren’t artists by profession, but they’re incredibly creative and have always supported me in pursuing something that might seem a bit risky to the wider community, but brings me joy.
They’ve instilled in me a strong work ethic, a sense of determination, and a deep appreciation for being alive—an openness and curiosity about the world around me that feeds into my work and keeps me going.
In terms of modern artists, I’m really inspired by people like Moira Frith, Morag Caister, Kayoon Anderson, Geoffroy Pithon, and Nadia Tuercke. Their use of colour, texture, and mark-making has had a big influence on my practice. I love how they show that the figure, objects, pattern, and colour can all co-exist in a really beautiful and expressive way.
What’s the most challenging part of your artistic process?
For me, one of the hardest parts is working through the negative feelings that can come up—especially when I’m feeling creatively blocked. Those moments of doubt or resistance can be difficult to navigate, and finding ways to move through them, rather than getting stuck, is a constant part of the process.
Another challenge is staying connected to my audience. It’s actually something I really enjoy, but it often takes a back seat between making the work itself and my job at the community centre. Finding the headspace and energy to share, communicate, and engage with others about the work can be hard—but it’s also such an important and rewarding part of being an artist today.
If you could have your art evoke one specific emotion in a viewer, what would it be?
I think, a sense of connection to themselves, a sense of hope.
What are your ‘must have’ snacks and drinks when in the studio?
My morning coffee is number one, and then a free flow of choccy and cups of tea. I flipin love Walkers Prawn Cocktail crisps and I don't nearly have enough of them besides me whilst I am working.
What is the best piece of artistic advice you have ever received?
The best advice I’ve received is knowing when to stop. It can be tough to tell when a piece is done, and sometimes we push too far, only to feel like we’ve ruined it. When that feeling comes up, it usually means it’s time to stop—or at least take a break for the day and come back to it later. For me, getting a second pair of eyes on it helps a lot. I often turn to my partner or Facetime my dad—they’re my biggest supporters and toughest critics. I’m lucky that they both have a great eye, and I trust their feedback.
Another piece of advice comes from an artist friend of mine, Nadia Teruek. We met spontaneously when I was browsing in a shop in London. We ended up chatting in there for hours! At the time, I hadn’t really started my own practice yet, but Nadia an artist herself, had such a lovely energy and a down-to-earth perspective that I really connected with. She told me that being an artist today is amazing but also difficult, and can sometimes feel glorified online. She reminded me that balancing work and a creative practice is tough, and it’s okay if things take time. We often only see the work of artists when they’ve reached the peak of their careers or have gone viral online, but their journeys are rarely linear or transparent. If you’re an artist but don’t feel like one yet because you’re also juggling other things, that’s okay. You’re still an artist! Keep going, I see ya.
You are hosting a dinner party and have invited 3 other artists (living or dead), who would be on the guest list?
Honestly, it would probably just be three of my close friends who are artists—Jen (@jenhart97), Teresa (@teresacabm), and Callum (@callumjcolson). We don’t get to see each other much since we live on opposite sides of the country, but they’re some of the most hilarious, down-to-earth people I know. They’d bring good vibes, deep chats, loads of laughs, and the tunes, which, for me, is the perfect mix for a party.
Love these answers! Thank you so much for how much thought you have put into them, such a fascinating insight into your gorgeous work.
Olivia's beautiful paintings currently available in my Devon art gallery can be viewed here
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