Auckland-based artist Sarah Oostendorp reflects on her upbringing, creative process, and the deeply personal role art plays in her life.

Can you tell us about your upbringing in Southland and how it shaped your creative life?

I’m originally from Southland, from a small town called Otautau, and I was raised by two outsider artists. My childhood was a bit dysfunctional, but we all had one thing in common—art. It was a real source of safety and warmth for me, and I became deeply attached to that.

We lived quite an isolated life, which really shaped how I approach creativity. There wasn’t much influence from the outside world—no Wi-Fi, no constant input—so I was taught to create from within. Looking back, I think that was really special.

My parents are incredibly resilient, unashamed, and resourceful people, and I hope I’ve inherited some of that. I was also lucky to grow up surrounded by high-quality materials from a young age, which helped guide me toward becoming an artist.

Your work focuses on repeating circular mark-making. What first drew you to circles?

They don’t really represent anything specific—more of an emotion.

I’ve been drawn to repetitive patterns for as long as I can remember. Drawing circles has always felt very soothing and grounding. Growing up, when things felt stressful or out of control, it was something I could turn to that gave me a sense of peace.

When I moved to Auckland to study at Elam, I was trying to figure out my artistic style. I noticed that after uni, I’d go home and just draw circle after circle to calm myself down. Someone suggested I lean into it, and at first I thought that sounded a bit silly—but then I realised it was genuinely what I wanted to do. So I committed to it.

How do you balance the methodical and intuitive parts of your process?

I don’t start a piece with a fixed outcome in mind. The intuitive side really leads the work.

That said, I do set some parameters—colour is a big one, and scale is really important. But beyond that, everything is quite fluid and responsive.

There’s a rhythm to the process, and even practical things—like running out of paint—can become part of the work. When a piece is finished, I can step back and look at it almost as if I’m seeing it for the first time.

You’ve spoken about entering a meditative state while working. What does that feel like?

It’s incredibly calming. Repeating the same motion feels like an escape from all the noise in my head.

It brings a real sense of peace and happiness. It’s also how I process things—life, emotions, everything. It’s less about thinking and more about being in that moment.

How does your creative practice relate to wellness?

I actually see it as something separate.

Things like walking or general wellbeing routines help with day-to-day life, but making art goes deeper than that. It grounds me in a way nothing else really can. It helps process something that feels more constant and internal.

Does creativity allow you to access a deeper emotional space?

Yeah, definitely. It feels like it soothes something deeper—almost like it connects with an inner part of myself.

Other practices help regulate everyday life, but art operates on another level entirely.

What does your ideal creative day look like?

On a day when I’m not working, I wake up early and go straight into painting. I don’t even stop to shower first—I just get into it.

Later I’ll take a break, eat, and then go back to painting. At some point I’ll go for a walk to reconnect with the outside world. When you’re deep in a piece, you can get quite absorbed in it.

Then I’ll come back and keep working. My days are pretty simple: painting, walking, eating, sleeping.

Do you see a connection between your creativity and spirituality?

I wouldn’t say I’m a spiritual person, but I do have a relationship with art.

It almost feels like a living thing—like something I’m in a relationship with. It’s constant; it’s always been there, and it’s the safest thing in my life.

How would you describe that relationship?

It feels alive. Like I’m interacting with something beyond just myself.

Art gives something back—it feeds me. It’s been the one constant in my life, and I’ve formed a really deep attachment to it because of that.

How does your work support you during challenging periods?

It’s something I rely on completely. I paint every day—before or after work, whenever I can. If I go a few days without it, I don’t feel good.

I need creativity consistently—it keeps me grounded.

Who are you creating for?

Honestly, I create for myself.

I’m not thinking about an audience or an outcome. I make work because I want to see it, live with it, and be surrounded by it. Sharing it can actually feel quite difficult, because part of me just wants to keep it.

As both an artist and a store manager, how do you balance your time and creative energy?

Creative flow has never really been an issue—I actually have the opposite problem. I’ll be working on one piece while thinking about ten others I want to start.

I work four days in the shop and spend three days painting. It’s a good balance. I’ve tried being a full-time artist, but I found I became too isolated. Working keeps me connected to people and the world around me.

How does working at Gordon Harris influence your creative practice?

I find a lot of inspiration in the materials themselves.

I used to work at Auckland Art Gallery and thought that would be more inspiring, but I actually found it quite intimidating. At Gordon Harris, I feel inspired every day—it makes me want to experiment and play.

What materials do you gravitate towards?

I mainly work with oil paint. I love the physicality of it—the texture, the movement, the way it holds its form.

Because I don’t start with a fixed plan, the materials really influence how the work develops.

What tools are essential to your process?

There are a few things I rely on.

A Molotow dual-end pen—especially the 1.5mm tip—for making circles. A size 0 Da Vinci Colineo brush that holds its form perfectly. And High Flow white paint, which I use constantly.

Even practical tools like pliers and a staple remover are essential parts of my process.

If someone wanted to try your style, where should they start?

Keep it simple.

Start with a good canvas, build up a strong base — slap some ultramarine blue down —and then use a Molotow pen filled with high-flow white paint. From there, just start making circles and let yourself get into it.

Are there any underrated tools you’d recommend?

Small paint “pottles” for mixing and storing colour.

They seal really well and make the whole process more efficient. I use them constantly now and don’t think enough artists are taking advantage of them.

Have any products recently changed the way you work?

Daylight lamps have also made a big difference—especially in winter when natural light is limited.

Is there a brand you consistently go back to?

Golden, without a doubt.

The pigmentation, consistency, and range are incredible. I especially love their High Flow and SoFlat paints. Even as I explore oils more, I think I’ll always come back to Golden.

What do you hope people feel when they experience your work?

I hope it helps people slow down.

Everything feels very fast-paced, so I’d love for people to take time with the work—especially in person. More than anything, I just want people to feel something.

What’s next for you?

I’m just continuing to lean into the work—exploring circles further and seeing where it goes.

There’s a show in mind that I’m working towards at the moment, so that’s something I’m excited about.