Holly Smiths practice is an inward, all-consuming attention to the everyday: the spaces we inhabit, move through, and often overlook. Rather than seeking to be loud, the work reflects our presence within place—tracing journeys through environments and the subtle shifts that occur along the way. Walking, travelling alone, hiking, and following trails are central to how she lives and sees; these acts of movement become the foundation of her observation.

Conceptual works emerge through listening—often mistaken for daydreaming—and are made with materials that ask for little deliberation: tape, card, stamps, and stencils. Smith notices rhythms in human behaviour and plays with niche ideas, finding quiet humour in the seriousness of sport, traffic systems, café interiors, and the habitual paths we walk to work. There is an enjoyment in overanalysis, in uncovering the silliness embedded within order and routine.

Alongside this, a painterly language watches carefully. She over-familiarises herself with a landscape, from every angle, until it becomes vivid enough to paint from memory. Drawn to the precise moment where sea and sky meet—pretending, almost convincingly, not to know one another—she paints the quiet drama of the horizon. And then she, too, will go for a quick float.