Interview
Ezekiel Grimsley
Grinskey is a self-taught artist primarily working in ink. His work explores the spaces between clarity and uncertainty, often using abstraction to reflect on identity, memory, and transformation. Creating began as a way to slow down and connect with himself, but it has grown into a language of its own. This language continues to teach him patience, honesty, and freedom. Grimsley sees art as both a mirror and a bridge: a place to meet himself and, hopefully, others along the way.
What is your background and how did you start your journey in the art world?
“I work in any medium I can get my hands on, though ink has become my go-to. I’m self-taught, and the process is often slow and unforgiving, but I’ve learned to love that. It forces me to focus — to slow down — and that’s a pretty special place to be. Creating art began as a way to expand my skills, but it quickly became something a lot more — a way to reflect, to explore, and to connect with myself safely. I used drawing to work on my patchy memory; it became a barrier between me and the world I’m peeking into. The act of creating brought back old memories — being in grade five, completely absorbed in art class before lunch. I was so focused I missed half of lunch before my teacher finally kicked me out. That feeling — losing track of time, disappearing into the work — has always been deeply therapeutic. I didn’t practice much after that; I was a classical dancer growing up, and that discipline consumed my free time. When I stopped dancing, I thought I had to live a certain kind of life, and I didn’t return to art until my twenties. Since then, I’ve been experimenting with everything — oil and acrylic paints, pencils, coloured markers, and lately, oil pastels. I’ve always been drawn to monochromatic work — maybe because I’m colourblind — but lately I’ve started to enjoy exploring colour again. I like filling my life with learning new skills; each one feels like another way to see.”
What does your work aim to say? Does it comment on any current social or political issues?
“It’s difficult to articulate the feeling of not knowing who you are — of peeling away ingrained habits and opening yourself to the possibility that things aren’t as you believed. I often find that abstraction, especially through the stark black-and-white contrast of ink, is the most liberating way to explore that uncertainty. The space between those extremes draws me to build subtle shades, creating depth and complexity through variation. My work aims to bring joy and comfort while reflecting on the challenges of mental health — shaped by my own experiences and those of people close to me.”
Do you plan your work in advance, or is it improvisation?
“It depends. Teaching myself often leads to days of preparation and study, figuring out materials or techniques before I even start. Other times, I just get stuck in—play around with these new toys, and try to engage that childlike nature of creating, which can be difficult to reach when you’ve got the responsibilities of your world. Recently, I’ve been exploring how doing less has the counterintuitive result of creating more meaningful moments when you do engage. Learning, for me, mostly consists of a friendly level of avoidance, then starting, and then figuring it out. Sometimes, I have a clear idea in mind, other times it’s like a word on the tip of your tongue. It’s not unusual to be experimenting for weeks before it becomes apparent what it’s meant to be—sometimes it’s not clear until I’m two pieces in. It reveals itself gradually.”
Are there any art world trends are you following?
“I’d definitely consider myself more of an outsider to the art world. It’s not really something I’ve been tuned into, although I am fascinated by the integration of AI in works. I don’t live under a rock, and especially in Australia there are some major problems with artificial intelligence, the companies behind them, and the copyright and ownership of art. It’s a very serious problem, and the Australian government has the opportunity to try and get it right. It’s not too far gone — it’s important to start, even if it might feel like it’s too late. Personally, I’ve been experimenting with artificial intelligence more as a tool, exploring its role as a co-creator. I think it’s a great privilege to be involved on the ground level. I have an optimistic view when it comes to the future — creating with AI and taking back control of creators’ art and ownership. Overall, though, I make my own lane and stick to it. It’s interesting, that side of it, but also the whole movement at the moment of AI content being made for the masses. I believe it will eventually level out and filter out all the slop. People will get sick of slop, and there will be a shift from over-consumption by the masses to its equal opposite — some kind of universal balance.”
What process, materials and techniques do you use to create your artwork?
“I like to explore a wide range of processes and materials. I enjoy using less typical tools and techniques — finding ways for every element of the process to add another layer of meaning. Lately, I’ve been focused on building more depth and detail, not just within the medium itself, but through how technique and material interact. I treat the entire process as part of the work itself — a lot can change between the first mark and the final moment. I think routine is important, but I also like staying open — letting the process and whatever’s happening in my life influence even the smallest details. I recently wrote about struggling to finish a piece titled Old Skin on my website. It reminded me how much the creative process can mirror personal growth. I think a holistic approach — not just in materials, technique, and process, but in your underlying philosophy — is important. Wanting to put your best work out there while learning to accept when it’s done can be very tricky.”
“I like to explore a wide range of processes and materials. I enjoy using less typical tools and techniques — finding ways for every element of the process to add another layer of meaning.”
What does your art mean to you?
“My art is essentially an extension of myself. Sometimes it’s overwhelming; other times, it brings an overwhelming clarity and resolve. It’s the most powerful tool I have in my toolbox. Selfishly, I use it to dive deep within myself — beyond what I could reach in any conversation. It’s funny how something can feel so deeply personal, yet at times so far detached. I guess that’s the magic. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to understand how art has made me feel. I haven’t searched for those answers. I don’t think they’re needed to appreciate the outcome. Art represents all of us as humans. For the love of art — it can be so godly awful, and it can be so amazing. That’s the beauty of it. I think in a way art saved my life from a lot of suffering. I’d love to live in a world where everyone could set aside as little as ten minutes a day to create — I think we’d all be far better off.”
What’s your favourite artwork and why?
“The first thing that comes to mind is A Quadrangular Yard by Wu Guanzhong. I remember being in the museum in Hong Kong — all of his work was mind-blowing. I’d never felt such a connection to another artist’s work. I visited Hong Kong in March earlier this year, definitely seeking some kind of answers. I was more than lost and hoping a trip away would help me reset and get back to creating. I remember stepping into the Wu Guanzhong: Black, White, Gray exhibition at the HKMOA — it was exactly what I needed. I walked around completely mesmerised. I’ve always felt a strong connection to China — ever since I visited as a child — the art, traditions, and culture have always stayed with me. It was amazing — Hong Kong felt special. His takes on the landscapes of mainland China were incredible. They gave me this conviction to embrace the world of ink in a freer way. I was open and searching for answers, and that exhibition definitely delivered.”
Have you had any noteworthy exhibitions you'd like to share?
“I haven’t shown much of my work in a traditional exhibition setting yet — most of what I’ve shared so far has lived online through my website and personal projects. I’ve always wanted to build meaning before stepping into a gallery space. One of the most meaningful moments for me was publishing Old Skin as part of my Masks series on my website. It felt like an exhibition in itself — an act of honesty. Seeing how people connected with it reminded me how powerful vulnerability can be when it’s shared through art. I’d love to create exhibitions that blur the line between a gallery and a personal experience — where people can walk into something living and become part of it. Not just looking at work on a wall, but contributing to the piece itself. That’s what I’m working towards now.”
Website: grinskey.com
Instagram: @grim_zeke
