Her works do not clamour for attention through spectacle or volume; instead, they beckon with a quiet magnetism, inviting the viewer into contemplative spaces where form and feeling coalesce. They are portals into “imagined worlds” and “inner landscapes”.
Painting from her Hamilton studio in Australia, Mansbridge’s process is both rigorous and reverent. She begins with delicate pencil lines drawn directly onto linen—an intentional nod to the material traditions of Indigenous artists among whom she was raised. These faint marks remain visible beneath layers of white gesso and paint, preserving the fragile essence of the human hand. Mansbridge speaks to the almost mythic tension between artist and artwork—what is gained and what is sacrificed when the tool meets the surface, when creation begins to separate from its creator. “There is something actually quite painful about covering up these marks,” she reflects. “So I wanted to preserve the line; I wanted to preserve the human mark.”
This fidelity to origin infuses her architectural geometries with an unexpected tenderness. Her works, though meticulously constructed, never lose the pulse of the human spirit. Though her visual language is rooted in sacred design, mathematical principles, and the desire to carefully birth order from chaos, her paintings are far from austere. They are meditative, organic, and quietly radiant. In Mansbridge’s hands, geometry becomes redemptive rather than rigid. “Humans are soft structures,” she explains, “but everything around us is underpinned by mathematical, geometric systems. For instance, even the energy field around us is structured and gridded.” Painting, for Mansbridge, is a method of harmonising these dualities: the organic and the constructed, the visible and the unseen, the rational and the intuitive.
A profoundly personal and spiritual artist, her practice is anchored in ritual, mindfulness, and a deep curiosity for the unseen. Her works emerge not solely from imagination but from dreams—transmissions from some “inner cosmos” made visible through hours of deliberate labour and a Surrealist desire to explore the unconscious. Time, for Mansbridge, is both a medium and a material. Her compositions evolve gradually, often over many weeks, and once begun, cannot be reworked. “The design is one go,” she says. “There’s not much room for a mistake.” This high-stakes precision is tempered by a philosophy of presence: to show up, to allow what needs to emerge, and to release attachment. “This work supports my life, and my life supports my work. If I look after the work, the work will take care of me.”
Her latest series for Rise Art, shaped by a recent journey to India, emerges as “a constellation of contemplative spaces”. “Postcards came from India. This country is just so dense and colourful and impactful,” she recalls. “Everything is always organically unfolding.” These works evoke the echo of ancient observatories or sacred architecture, structures designed not only to house the human body, but to gesture skywards, towards the infinite.
It is perhaps significant that Mansbridge’s father was a minister. In an age where the term “spiritual” is frequently diluted or commodified, Mansbridge offers something more rooted, more embodied. Influenced by her father’s belief that “all we cannot see is equal in value to all we can,” she approaches her practice with reverence—for mystery, for process, and for the unseen dimensions of life. Even the rise of artificial intelligence does not escape her curiosity. “My work is a question rather than an answer,” she says. It invites stillness, introspection, and a re-centring of the self. “To think more presently about their movements in life… I want people to ask: Who are you? And where are you going?”
Also interesting to note is Mansbridge's nomadic upbringing; as a child, she moved around a lot and often stayed in households with minimal possessions. She specifically recalls not having access to a television, and having to seek other forms of stimulation to spark her imagination. Some of her most vivid memories are of lying on a couch, gazing into paintings by her grandmother. “My grandmother was a talented painter,” she tells me. “It was her works that survived our frequent moves and are deeply etched in my memory to this day.” These artworks, scenes from distant places like Hong Kong, were like postcards from other worlds. The works themselves and the act of quiet observation played a formative role in her imagination, serving as a visual dialogue and a catalyst to her ability to pull entirely new realms from the recesses of her mind.
The idea of remaining open to new paths and discoveries is not merely a theme in Mansbridge’s work, but a way of being. She describes herself as a “vessel”: open, porous, and devoted to the act of making. “I’m just a conduit,” she says, “for people to connect with their own stories and their own presence.” Her art becomes an offering—a quiet gesture of presence, care, and communion. It is shaped by a longing to create emotional refuge, rooted in her own experiences of grief and loss, yet always outward-reaching. “My ultimate intention is to make work that is soothing and speaks to the shared, often unspoken, emotional currents that bind us.”
Rather than seeking resolution, her work invites viewers to embrace the mystery and the process itself—a rare and powerful stance in a world increasingly fixated on immediate answers and gratification. And, perhaps this is her most profound gift: to gently remind us that there is always something beyond what we can see: within the chaos of all things, there is still space for wonder.