Brolga is an Australian-based artist and illustrator who gained recognition for his large-scale wheat pastes, street art, and murals on the streets of New York.
With an aesthetic that blends graphic punch and daydream-like looseness, Brolga crafts characters that speak without words, inviting audiences into imaginative and universal stories.
Influenced by years of travel and living abroad, Brolga’s characters now appear across murals, installations, prints, and brand collaborations alike – always carrying the same playful, wordless storytelling at their core.
What role do you think illustration plays in helping people understand emotions or ideas that words alone can’t express?
Similar to a lot of art forms, like music, dance, and fine art, illustration is able to communicate ideas and emotions instantly, in ways that words struggle to.
Words are linear and explain things step by step, but images can hold multiple emotions, subtleties, moods, tensions, and humour all at once, and convey that in an immediate, almost instinctive way.
This is why I love working within this art form. There is a bit of magic in something that allows the creator to express their feelings, without saying a word.
When you start a new piece, do you begin with a clear vision or do you discover the artwork as you create it?
Creativity is very nebulous, a bit magical, and there are parts of it that just naturally happen that I do not fully understand.
I have heard songwriters talk about their process in a similar way. Many of them do not really know where the songs come from, they are almost mysteriously captured in the moment.
Sometimes, after being inspired by something, I can see the finished artwork clearly in my head. The challenge is translating that into a drawing and a final piece, as I may not yet have the technical ability to execute it exactly as I imagine.
Other times, I start with more of a concept. It might be an abstract connection between different references that I want to bring together into something new.
In those cases, I spend a lot of time sketching and working through the idea until it feels right. With colour, I tend to go by feel. Before becoming an illustrator, I worked as a graphic designer, and that helped me develop a strong sense of colour and balance.
What were the first steps you took to turn your passion for illustration into a professional career?
I was on the tail end of a years-long backpacking trip around the world in my late twenties. I had always been a creative person, and being an artist was a long-time dream, but I could not quite connect the dots to make it a reality.
When I arrived in New York, I enrolled in some casual illustration classes, mostly just to keep myself occupied. I immediately felt at home in that environment. It just felt right.
Following that instinct, I went all in and eventually studied illustration full time in Manhattan. Through a lot of persistence, I started to build momentum in my career.
It is not easy to grow and sustain a career in art, but it has been one of the most fulfilling things I have done.
Was there a particular project or moment that helped launch your career or gain wider recognition?
In the early years, I had a few stepping stone projects that helped bring attention to my work.
One of the most significant was a mural I painted in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, in 2015, while I was still in art school. At the time, there was a big mural movement happening, and I wanted to try working at that scale.
I found a well-positioned wall in my neighbourhood and painted a portrait of Muhammad Ali. A few months later, he sadly passed away, and the mural became an informal tribute site. Very quickly, it was picked up by major media outlets around the world, including CNN and Sports Illustrated. What started as a personal tribute turned into something much bigger, completely by chance.
How do you decide which projects or collaborations to say yes to?
Some of my favourite collaborations are the ones where the product, the values, and the storytelling all feel aligned. Projects where I am not just placing artwork onto something – but contributing to a bigger idea that people can connect with in their everyday lives.
In general, I decide which collaborations to take on based on a few things; whether the brand has a clear point of view, whether there is space for the work to feel genuine, and whether the project has some kind of positive impact.
How did your collaboration with made by Fressko come about, and what does it mean to you?
The collaboration with Fressko came about quite naturally.
I have always been drawn to brands with a clear sense of purpose, and Fressko already had that with their focus on well-designed, reusable products. What made this project particularly meaningful was the connection to Mission Australia, one of the country’s leading for-purpose community service and housing providers.
The designs I created lean into a sense of playfulness and joy, which on the surface feels light, but there is a deeper intention behind it.
Everyone deserves to experience that kind of warmth and optimism in their day-to-day life. Knowing that each purchase contributes to supporting young people experiencing homelessness gives that idea real weight.
With more than 122,000 Australians currently experiencing homelessness, it is not an abstract issue. Being able to contribute, even in a small way, to an organisation doing real work on the ground makes the project feel bigger than just the product. It is something I am genuinely proud to be part of.
How do you decide what details to include and what to leave out in an illustration?
For me, it comes down to clarity of feeling. I try to strip things back to the point where the idea still holds, and nothing is competing with it. If a detail is not adding to the mood, the story, or the character, it probably does not need to be there.
Often, what you leave out is what gives the work space to breathe. With simpler, character-led work, small shifts in posture or expression can carry more weight than a highly detailed scene.
Has there been a piece of artwork you created that surprised you or changed the way you think about your own style?
There have been a few moments where my perspective shifted on why I make art.
One that stands out was in 2021, when I created my first large-scale character sculptures for an exhibition in Shanghai. Seeing how audiences reacted to the work made me realise how powerful character-based art can be. It has a way of connecting beyond language and cultural barriers.
When you think about how well certain characters translate across the world, it makes sense. They become something people can emotionally connect with, almost like their own entity. That experience definitely changed how I think about the potential of my work.
When you face creative blocks, what helps you reconnect with your creativity?
Usually stepping away from trying to solve it directly.
I will draw something with no outcome in mind, or go back to very simple, almost childlike mark-making. A lot of my work sits in that space of curiosity and play, so when I feel blocked it is often because I have drifted too far into overthinking. The quickest way back is to lower the stakes and just make something small and loose.
How do you balance technical skill with spontaneity and experimentation in your work?
I see technical skill as the foundation that allows for spontaneity. The more comfortable you are with your tools, the easier it is to let go. I usually keep the early stages quite loose and intuitive, then bring in structure where it is needed. If everything is too controlled from the beginning, the work can lose its sense of life.
If someone studied your illustrations years from now, what do you hope they would understand about the time or world you created them in?
I would hope they feel a sense of softness and optimism. The world can feel quite fast and overwhelming, and I think my work is, in some ways, a response to that. Even though the settings are fictional, they are grounded in small, everyday emotions like friendship, curiosity, and comfort.
If that comes through, then it has probably captured something honest about this moment in time.
What advice would you give to young illustrators?
Focus less on style, and more on what you are naturally drawn to. Style tends to emerge through repetition and preference over time.
Pay attention to what you enjoy making, what you keep coming back to, and what feels intuitive. That is usually a better guide than trying to force a particular look.
