In 1964, Donald Horne ironically proclaimed Australia ‘The Lucky Country.’¹ Horne’s irony has since faded, and the phrase has evolved into a mistaken mythology of the country’s inherent good fortune. Yet Horne’s original thesis was a warning: that Australia’s success, largely the result of political alliances and abundant natural resources bred dangerous complacency, even mediocrity. At the heart of his critique was a tendency toward cultural insularity and a lack of intellectual curiosity. It is a distinctly Australian conundrum—where stability and comfort can just as easily become a form of confinement—that artists continue to grapple with.

In the first half of the twentieth century, plucky Australians like Dorrit Black, Thea Proctor, Roy de Maistre, Sidney Nolan, and John Perceval ventured beyond our shores to study, immerse themselves in dynamic artistic communities, and chase new opportunities. One could argue they were also in pursuit of discomfort. Imagination and artistic practice often thrive in the presence of cultural abrasion, where ideas are tested, expanded, and certainties begin to dissolve. To embrace discomfort is, in many ways, to invite intellectual evolution.

At the time The Lucky Country was published, an instituted artist residency model was beginning to expand internationally. European sojourns, once reserved for the elite with established international networks, were, after the Second World War, becoming accessible through open applications.² Supported by governments aiming to foster cultural diplomacy, and museums and galleries exploring new ways to engage artists, residencies have since become a core part of an artist’s career. It is now widely recognised that the discomfort of being away from home is often vital to the evolution of artistic practice.

Today, Australian artistic careers are punctuated by residencies in places like Rome, Helsinki, Oaxaca, and Beijing. These moments offer a break from the relentless cycle of production, allowing artists to focus and be actively curious. Increasingly, however, a number of contemporary Australian artists are choosing to locate themselves abroad, sometimes for a month, sometimes for years, and occasionally for a lifetime.

After her career-defining solo exhibition Free Falling at Dia Beacon in 1998 Tracey Moffatt spent twelve years in New York.³ In 2002, at age 28, Ricky Swallow relocated to Los Angeles temporarily yet remains there in 2025.⁴ More recently, artists Todd McMillan and Sarah Mosca moved to Ubud, where they established Desa, an artist-led initiative that has hosted 56 artists-in-residence since 2023 as part of its expanded program.

While many artists return home from a residency buoyed by the experience, folding new ideas and insights into their practice, for others, an international residency becomes a gateway to an entirely new life. For painter Abdul Abdullah, a month-long residency in Yogyakarta in 2016 reshaped his understanding of what it meant to be an artist. Formally trained in Perth and then based in Sydney, his idea of artistic practice had been shaped by art school’s dominant model of the solitary studio artist. In Yogyakarta, he was quickly absorbed into the vibrant local arts community built around interconnected collectives.⁵ The culture of collaboration stood in stark contrast to individualistic studio practice endemic to Australian art education, which fundamentally shifted how he approached making work. He recalls the experience with palpable enthusiasm, ‘in a place with little to no public funding, the collective approach not only made art-making possible, but it also produced artists of an incredible, and internationally significant, standard.’ It is clear that Yogyakarta gave him a new sense of agency and a strategic framework for how he could shape his future practice.

In 2018, Abdullah opened a studio in Yogyakarta, for several years basing himself between the Javanese city and Sydney. During this period he began experimenting with new mediums supported by collective methods of working, and in 2023, established a larger studio in Bangkok where he is now based.

In a similar vein, painters Clare Thackway and Gregory Hodge relocated to Paris in 2019 after a decade of testing the waters in Europe. Thackway had completed residencies in Glasgow, while Hodge had undertaken programs in Berlin and Rome. When Hodge was awarded the Art Gallery of New South Wales’s Cité Internationale des Arts residency in Paris, the artists seized the opportunity to use it as a springboard for a more permanent move.⁶ While their earlier residencies had broadened their thinking and networks, Cité Internationale provided a supported entry point into a new city. An entry point that has since unfolded into what Hodge describes as “a dynamic studio life.” Between them, they have occupied eight different studios, and while the constant relocations have been exhausting, they acknowledge that each move has introduced them to new layers of the artistic ecosystem. With two young children in tow, life in Paris soon settled into its own rhythm. By the time the pandemic passed, they had secured five-year visas, and the city and its residents had become their community.

For artists Nabilah Nordin and Nick Modrzewski, the move from Melbourne to Los Angeles came more by happenstance than design. Initially planning to base themselves in New York City, their trajectory shifted when, in 2024, Nordin was offered a solo exhibition at Parrasch Heijnen and Modrzewski secured a residency at The Cabin, both in Los Angeles (LA). LA, with its, as they termed it, 'climate of constant reinvention and its expansive, light-filled, lift-accessible studio spaces', caught them by surprise.⁷ While New York remains a key centre in the shifting landscape of the international art world, to them LA felt freer, more experimental, and more aligned with their practices. Since Nordin’s first exhibition and Modrzewski’s residency, they have made LA their base. Although they ultimately chose to reside on the west coast, their connection to New York remains strong: They have recently returned from a trip east for Modrzewski’s solo show at Lyles & King.

In Australia, the familiar tyranny of distance is compounded by the tyranny of time zones. While Australian artists are deeply engaged with the international art world, we are often just one flight too far for visiting curators. The time difference frequently bleeds into personal hours. This inevitably affects the visibility and discoverability of Australian art. But, being based elsewhere often erases that problem. For Abdullah, his studio is now housed in a building shared with other artists, where visiting curators can encounter his work alongside that of leading Thai practitioners. When I catch up with Thackway and Hodge online, they are speaking ahead of their opening at Le Pavé d’Orsay later that evening, and Hodge is simultaneously preparing for an exhibition in New York.  Similarly, Nordin and Modrzewski describe being swept into the rhythm of LA, a city constantly chasing the next big thing. That thing might just be them.

All the artists speak with great fondness and pride about the Australian arts community. They share a strong sense of gratitude for the infrastructure, support, and people in Australia who helped anchor their practices and who continue to engage with their work. There are specific ties that continue to pull their attention back, such as the small but dynamic Canberra arts community or the curators and collectors who have followed their practice from the beginning. For each of them, Australia remains an instinctive and ongoing priority-just as much a part of their future as their past.

Whether in Bangkok, Paris, or Los Angeles, all the artists speak of the momentum that comes with being based in a different city. For all the positive effects of relocating the reality is a bureaucratic one. It is not for the faint-hearted and often ushers in a period of discomfort during the first few weeks in a new city, marked by a seemingly endless and often circular trail of institutional paperwork, where each step depends on another that cannot yet be completed. The discomfort of these administrative loops serves as a clear reminder that being based in a new, international city does not come with stability; there is no room for complacency when time is measured in visas. These artists have heeded Horne’s warning, allowing their intellectual curiosity to guide them as they embrace discomfort to push the boundaries of their imagination and practice.