Jasmine Mansbridge is an Australian artist whose multidisciplinary practice spans painting, sculpture, large-scale murals, and stone carving, all built around a meticulous and considered visual language of geometry and symbols.

For Jasmine, geometry is philosophy. Her lines and dimensional shapes map the space between what we know and what we feel, balancing structure with mystery, precision with something more emotive. Each piece is the result of extended contemplation rather than quick output — work that rewards those who look beyond the surface.

Her practice has evolved continuously over almost three decades, beginning with works on paper and expanding into nearly every medium: public murals, sculpture, film, animation, and most recently, poetry. Her debut collection, Poetry Buried in Geometry, treats words and physical works as inseparable from one another, each informing the other.

Jasmine built her practice without institutional training, working independently and adapting constantly to the realities of a full life raising five children. That adaptability remains central to how she works today — refining her visual language with discipline while staying open to where the work wants to go next.

Currently, she's working with stone collected from the landscape around her home in the Grampians, carving and engraving on a manageable scale while looking toward larger-scale stonework in the future.

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What would you like people to know when they first come across your artworks?

That the work is created with so much love and intention. That I want it to slow them down. To look again. There is always more within the work than the first glance reveals.

If you feel moved by something you see in my work and you can't quite explain why, that is not a failure of understanding. That is the work doing exactly what it is meant to do. Art doesn't always need to be translated into words. Sometimes it simply needs to land somewhere in the body, to process something the conscious mind perhaps can’t.

More than anything, I want people to feel better for having looked. That sounds simple, but it is the most important thing I can offer. In a world that moves very fast and asks a great deal of us, I want my work to be a place where something in a person settles, where the nervous system takes pause, where the mind finds a moment of stillness via my worlds.

When thinking about where you are in your journey, what are you most excited about and what keeps you inspired for the future?

I've just come through a long period of deep introspection, looking back at my journey and seeing how everything has connected, the questions I keep returning to. It's been clarifying in a way I didn't expect.

That questioning has seen me pushing the boundaries of my practice, wanting it to evolve. That hasn't always felt comfortable. There have been moments of feeling genuinely lost and somewhat unsure whether what I was reaching for was the right direction. But I've learned to trust that feeling because it is outside one’s comfort zone that good things happen. Just recently something shifted; the new level I’d been hoping to hit arrived and the restlessness has begun to settle into clarity. I feel genuinely grateful for that.

I think it's vital for artists not to stay stagnant. The work has to keep moving. What excites me most right now is knowing the best work is still ahead. Also, loving what I am able to create at this point.

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If you could go to dinner with any artist, who would it be and why?

Patti Smith. (HORSES & Just Kids)

There have been a number of times throughout my life; raising five children, living rurally, building a practice without institution or formal training behind me, when Patti has been both a comfort and an inspiration. Not just as an artist, but as a woman who has navigated all of it. The motherhood, the loss, the pivots, the making despite of and because of it all.

I have never put my practice aside, but there have been many years when it had to fit around school runs and bedtimes and the beautiful but exhausting reality of family life. Patti understood that. She found a way to respond to whatever the world asked of her at any given moment and make something meaningful from it. To create art that is then meaningful. That kind of adaptability, that willingness to meet life where it is rather than waiting for ideal conditions is how I have been able to sustain my practice over the years.

I'd love to share a meal with Patti to say thank you.

What is the best piece of advice you've been given?

Be very careful whose advice you take.

Discernment is everything, in art and in life.

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What is one thing you wish you'd be asked in an interview?

A dream question would be, what would you create right now if money wasn’t an object?

I would invest in the equipment and materials to work with stone on a large scale.

Right now I am experimenting with smaller manageable pieces of stone, carving, engraving, working with sandstone I collect from the landscape around my home in the Grampians. But stone at scale requires serious tools, serious investment, and access to the right material. Given complete freedom, I would set up the studio to do exactly that, and let the work grow into what I envision it to be.

How has your practice evolved over time?

It started with works on paper at seventeen. Then canvas, living in the Northern Territory  That early environment shaped much of the way I see the world, the way I think about symbol and story and meaning.

From there the practice has expanded in every direction. Large-scale public painting. Sculpture. Film. Animation. Writing. I recently published my first poetry book, Poetry Buried in Geometry, the words that form often before the physical works…the two are completely intertwined.

There has been much energy, action, joy and loss, devastation and gain. That is just the reality of building a practice across a lifetime. You give everything and you keep going.

God willing, there are forty odd years ahead, and looking at where the work is heading- the materials I am beginning to explore, the questions I am able to ask- I think the most interesting chapter is only just beginning.

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What music are you listening to these days?

Lately it's been Janis Joplin, which feels right for where I am in my practice, raw and unapologetic. My oldest daughter Caprice Ariston is a musician and lives with me at the moment, so there is always live music moving through the house. This is a gift I don't take for granted.

Beyond that I gravitate toward ambient sounds, binaural beats, and classical music (at the moment it's Mozart). What I'm really looking for in music is the same thing I look for in everything: I want it to leave me in a higher vibrational frequency than it found me in.

Did you always know you wanted to be an artist? If so, was there a particular moment that gave you the confidence to start sharing your work with the world?

My childhood was unconventional by most measures. There was no clear expectation on me to be any particular thing and I spent a lot of time outside of conventional schooling, literally making and building with sticks and stones and whatever else I could find. I drew constantly. Painted when I had the opportunity. I write a lot of strange poetry and songs. Dreaming. Imagining. Seeing portals, going on journeys in my thoughts.

I lived very much in an imaginary world as a child, and honestly I'm not sure I've ever fully left it. That inner world, that instinct to make meaning from everything around me has never left me.

My grandmother was an artist. And if I'm being completely honest, I've come to suspect it's probably the only thing I'm truly capable of doing. Everything else feels empty in comparison.

If you are new to my practice and appreciate it, please do drop me a line to say hello!

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