I: Imre, thank you for speaking with us today. You have an intriguing story as a Hungarian-born artist now living and creating in Australia. How would you describe the role of visual artists in today’s rapidly changing and globalised world?
IBi: I believe artists have always played a crucial role in reflecting the world around them, but today, that role feels even more significant. We’re living in a time of great political and social upheaval, climate crises, and technological transformation. Visual artists, in particular, are not only witnesses to these changes but also active participants in shaping the conversation about them. Through our work, we can reflect on how cultural identities evolve.
I: That brings us to your own journey. You moved from Hungary to Australia, which must have been a transformative experience. How has your migration influenced your work?
IB: Migration, for me, has been a profound journey both geographically and emotionally. Hungary, with its rich cultural history but also complex political past, was a very different environment. Coming to Australia allowed me to step away from some of those historical and political constraints. It created the space for me to explore my identity freely.
I: That sounds like an important shift in your creative process. But, at the same time, moving so far from your roots must have also created a tension. How do you balance that feeling of freedom with the desire to retain your Hungarian heritage in your art?
IB: It’s definitely a balancing act. While moving to Australia offered me the freedom to explore new ideas, it didn’t mean I abandoned my Hungarian roots entirely. In fact, I see my work as a fusion of both worlds. The Australian landscape—its vastness, its beaches, its deserts—has had a profound influence on my work, but so has my Hungarian heritage. I blend the two because it reflects the duality I feel: one foot firmly in European history and the other stepping into the modern Australian context.
Australia’s “untouched" environment has expanded my creative vocabulary. I think this fusion of European traditions and Australian influences has become a metaphor for the complexity of identity in the contemporary world. It’s a rejection of fixed cultural boundaries in favor of a more fluid, personalized expression. I don’t have to choose one over the other; I can embody both.
I: That’s fascinating. It sounds like your migration has provided you with new perspectives, but also new opportunities for artistic freedom. Does the change in environment also allow you more freedom in your artistic practice itself?
IB: Absolutely. Moving to Australia was, in a way, a personal liberation. In Hungary, like many Eastern European countries, there’s a long history of political tension and sometimes even censorship - during the communist regime - in the arts. It can be stifling, especially for those of us trying to push boundaries or express more unconventional ideas. But here in Australia, I’ve felt a much greater freedom to experiment with different techniques, forms, and materials. There’s also a vibrant, open-minded art scene that encourages risk-taking and unconventional practices. In that sense, Australia has given me the freedom to pursue my creative vision without worrying about restrictions.
I: So, it sounds like the freedom you found in Australia extends beyond just physical distance from Hungary; it’s also about the freedom to experiment and explore new ideas. Has this freedom allowed you to explore more personal or emotional themes in your work?
IB: Yes, definitely. I think the act of migration itself is a deeply emotional experience—there’s the nostalgia for home, the sense of loss, but also the excitement of reinvention. For me, art has become a way to process all of these emotions. It’s a language through which I can explore complex feelings—loss, hope, transformation, even a kind of homesickness that’s not just geographical but emotional.
Through my work, I’ve been able to create spaces where I can navigate these contradictions. The process of creating art has become a form of personal liberation, a way to unpack and give shape to feelings that might otherwise be difficult to express. There’s a therapeutic quality to it, where I can escape the constraints of my own history and begin anew.