There was a queue out the door when I arrived at Dear Neighbour on Smith Street for the opening of Emily Soley’s exhibition, A Love Letter to the Inner North. I remember looking around at the crowd and thinking, this is so Melbourne. Thirty-one beautiful watercolour illustrations of the pubs, restaurants, cafes and neighbourhood institutions that mean so much to so many of us. Emily is the artist behind Draw My Home, and what began as a love of drawing people’s houses has grown into something rather special. Her illustrations capture the personality of a place, from the tiles and signage to the wine bottles in the window. But it’s the stories attached to these buildings that make them so appealing. First dates, weddings, Friday night drinks, the regular table at your local. All those little rituals that become part of our lives. We had such a lovely conversation about our shared affection for Melbourne’s north, the emotional connections we make with hospitality venues and the way Emily’s work is becoming an archive of places that may not always be there. We talked about old favourites, changing neighbourhoods and the ghosts of venues past. I came home from the exhibition with a beautiful illustration of Jim’s Greek Tavern, and I’ve already got my eye on Emily’s next Food of the North calendar. If you haven’t been to see A Love Letter to the Inner North, there’s still time. It’s at Dear Neighbour, 311 Smith Street, Fitzroy, until 1 November. Go and have a wander, find a place that holds a memory for you, and perhaps take a little piece of the north home.
Emily Soley: When people ask me what I do and I say I’m an artist, it sounds a bit strange, but I think being an architectural illustrator is the same thing. I studied interior architecture, so my background is very architecture-based, but I’ve always had a massive love for art. Those two things have come together, essentially. I love drawing buildings, places, venues and homes. Draw My Home really started with drawing people’s houses, and it wasn’t until the last three or four years that I expanded into drawing venues. That’s opened up a whole new world for me, and it’s lovely because it’s made me realise that home isn’t just your four walls. It’s your community, your neighbourhood and the places that are part of your daily rituals. Even the place where you get your loaf of bread in the morning. Those places become part of that bigger story.
Conversation with a chef: Well, that’s right. I went to the opening night of Love Letter to the Inner North and there were so many people there. People were queuing to get in, and I thought, this is so Melbourne.
I know! I had a great RSVP response, but I was still thinking they wouldn’t all come. I was secretly hoping for some rain because our capacity wasn’t that big, even though it was a big venue. But it was awesome to see. I think it struck a nerve with a lot of people. People have a lot of love for their neighbourhoods. And it’s very loved because it’s quirky and independent and all those things.
Growing up in England, do you think there’s a different relationship with hospitality there compared with what you’ve experienced here?
I do, but I think I’ve grown up a lot since I lived in England, and I don’t know whether I was necessarily looking at buildings and venues in the same light. When I lived in London, there were more similarities, with independent venues, restaurants and pubs. But out in the country, there are obviously pubs, although a lot of them aren’t so individual or quirky. They’re a bit more mainstream. Melbourne is very good at giving each place its own personality and its own vibe. Melbourne does that very well.
So how many venues are featured in the exhibition?
There are 31. Initially, I thought I’d do 20, but apart from a few little sketches, I didn’t actually create anything new for the exhibition. It was a body of work I’d been building over the last three years. I create a calendar every year called Food of the North, so that’s 12 new illustrations every year. They’re all places around the inner north that are loosely connected to food. It could be a wine bar that offers oysters on the side, for example. I’ve done three calendars now, so that’s 36 illustrations. I didn’t include every one, but there was this big body of work just sitting in a drawer, and I thought, do you know what? I need to get them out.
And they’re so beautiful. There’s something almost three-dimensional about them. What’s the process?
I’ve got one here that I’m in the middle of doing. I start with pencil work, then add the pen and rub out all the pencil marks. You’re left with this very clean black-and-white image. Then I get out my trusty palette of watercolours and start building up the layers. I’ve had people ask whether I’d ever run workshops to teach people, but I have no idea how I’d teach it because it’s become such a natural process for me.
I start with the base layer, those background tones, and then work on the shading and details, such as the brickwork. I’ve got Bar Liberty in front of me, which was probably one of the first venues I ever painted. That one means a lot to my husband and me because we used to live just behind it, and it was our date spot. All those little details start building up. Bar Liberty has all those wine bottles in the front windows, and those are among the last things I add, even the tiny wine labels. I like to capture as much personality and meaning as I can in each illustration.
I really love the green tiles in that one. They’ve got that particular kind of green subway tile, and I love that.
Yes, the subway tiles. A lot of what draws me to these buildings is the signage. I’ve also started drawing more of what’s happening inside the windows. That’s Old Palm Liquor, and I love drawing the view through the windows and what’s going on inside. It brings out a little more personality in each place.
I love that as well. It’s one of my favourite things about walking around a neighbourhood at night, when you’ve got that glow of light and there are people inside doing things. You’re always wondering what’s going on. If they’re in a restaurant, are they on a date, are they catching up with friends?
I know! We rarely go on dates now, but when we do, we’re looking around thinking, do you think they’re on a first date?
They’re all places around the inner north that are loosely connected to food. It could be a wine bar that offers oysters on the side, for example. I’ve done three calendars now, so that’s 36 illustrations. I didn’t include every one, but there was this big body of work just sitting in a drawer, and I thought, do you know what? I need to get them out.
Emily Soley, Love Letter to the Inner North
I was wondering what draws you to a particular building. There are so many beautiful buildings, and you’ve captured them, but is the signage the thing for you?
I think it started with my own emotional connection to the places. I didn’t draw those first 12 illustrations specifically for the calendar. I’d already drawn them and then realised I could turn them into a product. Initially, it was my own emotional connection, but it’s grown to include other people’s emotional connections as well.
I talk to my followers quite a lot about their recommendations, and they’ve guided me to different places. They’re all still Northside, but I’ve drawn a lot more in Coburg, Reservoir and Preston because people have recommended places to me. I then visit those places, make contact with the people there and often fall in love with them myself.
It’s also the quirkiness of a building, and sometimes the grunginess. Skinny’s Eatery in Preston is this old corner milk bar. It’s got such a vibe, but it’s a little bit grungy on the outside too. I love the way that comes out in the illustration, with all those details.
And they’re all your babies! Do you have a favourite?
I do. Bar Liberty. I think because that’s our spot. And I love the Marquis of Lorne. That’s a crowd favourite. Honestly, that one is number one, above all the rest.
I made the mistake of recording a podcast episode at the Marquis of Lorne one weekend. I love that episode, but it was very loud. Then I thought, well, that’s exactly what it is. And the number of evenings I’ve thought, can I get down those stairs safely?
I know! A few too many on the rooftop. You’ve got the steak nights.
It’s such a meeting spot for so many people.
Absolutely. And the pub quizzes. That’s the whole thing. It’s those rituals, and that’s why people are so drawn to these places. Another relatively new drawing for me is Old Palm Liquor, and I can’t believe how many people got married there. They have these huge emotional connections to it. Those prints fly out the door, and I get messages all the time from people saying, that’s our wedding spot.
I think it’s because it’s so quirky, and it goes all the way back into that beautiful room at the back, almost like a conservatory. And the people are so great. The food’s good there as well.
Another very popular illustration is the Clifton Hill McDonald’s, which is more about the building itself. It’s such an iconic, beautiful building.
What style or era is that?
It’s very Art Deco. I did a whole piece about when it was turned into a McDonald’s because I think there was a bit of backlash when that happened. But I think it’s great. I think it makes it even more interesting. And people have memories there too, although they might be quite different from the memories associated with it. I think those memories might be more about the end of the night rather than the beginning!
But it’s such a beautiful building. I think it’s one of those places that people from overseas who are interested in architecture will come and photograph, just to tick it off their list.
It is iconic. And I personally love that they turned it into a McDonald’s.
And the golden arches really give your painting a pop, don’t they?
They do. I’ve had friends suggesting I draw more fast-food places, and it’s not really something I want to get into, but the odd one is fun.
And Jim’s Greek Tavern. That’s obviously iconic as well. And Gerald’s Bar, the old Gerald’s.
I haven’t been to the new one yet, but the old venue was home to so many first dates. I think I’ve got three sets of friends who had their first date there. It had that cosy, intimate setting. They’ve moved to a bigger venue now, so I don’t know whether it has the same feeling. Have you been?
Yes, and it’s definitely lovely. They’ve still got all the things, all the bits and pieces. It’s just more spread out. More space, but the same delicious food and the same style. It’s very different, but it’s still quirky and has lots of personality.
That’s what draws people to these venues. It’s the feeling.
Yes, the feeling. I started Conversation with a Chef because I was contributing to a community newspaper called The Northsider. When I was living in New Zealand, I had this idea because I had a friend who was a head chef, and every time we talked about food or the industry, I thought, people need to hear this. One day I’ll do something called Conversation with a Chef. When I moved here from New Zealand, Melbourne was so much bigger than Christchurch, and I thought, I can do what I like. I’m not a journalist or a photographer, but The Northsider was looking for photographers, and I thought, I can take photos. So I started doing that. Then they asked if I wanted to do some writing, and I said yes. Then they asked if I wanted to be the food editor, and I thought, this is my dream coming true! Their byline was that it was a newspaper for the people, by the people. That’s when I thought, this is where I’m going to do Conversation with a Chef. I had a monthly column where I’d go and speak to a northside chef, and it’s grown from there. I was living in Abbotsford as well, so I feel I have a real connection to that part of Melbourne. A part of my heart, and Conversation with a Chef, belongs in the north. Do you think you’d ever cross over and do a southside collection?
Oh God, I get asked this all the time! And the answer is no. I’m sorry! No offence to any southsiders, but it’s a different world to me. I don’t have that personal or emotional connection to the places there. I don’t have to know a place to draw it, obviously, but it would feel strange. So at this point, no. There’s still so much more of the north I want to draw. It’s endless. We’re blessed with so many awesome venues. I’m sure there’s an artist southside who could cover that area. I do work with businesses that approach me, and I’ve drawn lots of places southside on a private commission basis, but there won’t be a Food of the South, unfortunately.
It’s not something I realised when I started doing it, but it’s really come to my attention that it potentially is turning into an archive. I want to be able to portray these places as they are right now and celebrate them, because even over the last three or four years, quite a few places I’ve drawn have already closed.
Emily Soley, Love Letter to the Inner North
When you decide on a place you want to draw, do you approach the owners? Are there rules around that?
There aren’t really any rules. You’re allowed to draw a facade in Melbourne. One thing I do is, if there’s a mural and I’m recreating it, I always approach the mural artist and ask whether they’re happy for me to include it. I did one recently and had a quick chat with the artist, who was very happy for me to redraw it.
When I first started, I didn’t know what it would turn into or how big the project would become, so I didn’t necessarily have much back and forth with the venues. But now I absolutely do. I always message them beforehand because I like having that communication. Almost every time, they’re very happy to be part of it, and it’s lovely to have them on board.
Melbourne hospitality has been going through such a tough time. I say ‘we’, as though I’m part of it, but I feel like such a supporter of the industry. Since the lockdowns, and now more than ever with the financial challenges venues are facing, it’s been difficult. I feel like your work must be becoming an archive as well, and that could be really important.
Yes, it’s not something I realised when I started doing it, but it’s really come to my attention that it potentially is turning into an archive. I want to be able to portray these places as they are right now and celebrate them, because even over the last three or four years, quite a few places I’ve drawn have already closed. It’s something I hadn’t really reflected on until the last year or so.
I think they all deserve to be celebrated in the moment and afterwards, because it is tough. Last year I drew a very well-loved local cafe called Two Franks in Coburg. It’s an example of somewhere I didn’t know about initially but was recommended to draw. I struck up a relationship with the two sisters who owned it. It was a beautiful neighbourhood cafe, but they had to close because of tough times. Everything looked great from the outside, but it was really tough behind the scenes. It’s lovely that the owners and all their customers now have that memory.
That’s right. Do you think there’s a book in it? I think people would buy a book with those beautiful illustrations and a little information about each venue.
I’d love to do that. I was in Portugal this summer, well, winter here, and someone recommended an artist who’d made this beautiful book about local Portuguese architecture. Someone asked me recently whether I’d ever do something like that here, and I’d love to. I think I just need to do a lot more drawing to get to that point.
I’m often interested in the fact that our buildings aren’t as old as those in Europe, but we have some very iconic, long-standing buildings and venues. I’m also fascinated by the turnover in those buildings and the ghosts of venues past. Do you think you’d ever redraw a place that had changed hands and become another flourishing venue in the same building? The bones might be the same, but perhaps they’ve changed some things. Would you draw it again or leave it as it was?
I’d definitely draw it again. It’s about celebrating the place in the moment. I think having multiple versions of the same place would be fantastic. It would be lovely to see the changes.
We’ve spoken about Bar Liberty before, but I can’t remember who owned it previously. Apparently, on opening night they just sprayed ‘Liberty’ over the old signage and said they’d redo the signs when they got around to it. But they never did. So you’ve literally got that layering of the previous business and the current business. I love that.
I’d definitely redraw places. The lifespan of a building continues, and I think it’s really interesting to see how they change over time.
So how long does one picture take you?
A day. That’s how I schedule it, one a day. But within that day, I’ve also got the business side of things, which has grown and grown. The house commissions, which are where Draw My Home started, are still growing as well. So now my time is split quite evenly between admin and drawing, whereas I’d prefer to spend a lot more time drawing.
A house might take longer than a venue too. I’m looking at this house here, and you’ve got the whole garden. You’re not just drawing the house, you’re drawing all the surroundings. That one’s actually being demolished.
Oh my goodness. How good that you’ve drawn it!
Yes. And when I say a drawing takes a day, people are sometimes shocked, but I’ve been drawing for almost 20 years. It’s taken that much time to get it down to a day. It used to take a lot longer.
You’ve refined your skills over time.
Yes, and I’ve become a bit speedier.
And is it still a passion for you?
Oh, absolutely. I work until about ten o’clock most nights. Sometimes I think, what am I doing? But it’s because I just bloody love it. I wouldn’t do it otherwise. I love it, and I’ll keep doing it for as long as I can.