Kelly Flanagan who goes by the artist name ArtworkByAalayah, paints with her whole being. A proud Wiradjuri woman, Aalayah was born and raised in South East Queensland, far from her ancestral Country, but never far in spirit. Her art is a conversation between her past, her present, and the path she is creating back home—a path paved with healing, grief, laughter, and strength. Self-taught and deeply grounded in her identity, Aalayah didn’t begin painting until 2022. But once she started, it became clear this wasn’t just a hobby—it was a way of surviving, remembering, and reclaiming.
Aalayah’s work spans mediums: charcoal drawings, digital design, textiles, weaving with raffia. But what pulls her back again and again is acrylic and textured paints on canvas. There’s something physical in the process, a tactile connection that feels like a bridge between what she carries inside and what she wants to share. Her Sundays—spent in the company of women, yarning and creating—became the heart of her practice. In these circles of sisterhood, she found permission to speak through paint what couldn’t always be spoken aloud. Her pieces aren’t about perfection; they’re about honesty. The emotion is thick, layered. Sometimes joyful, sometimes heavy. Always true.
She paints to reconnect—with culture, with community, with herself. Her art doesn’t separate these parts. They bleed into each other. Each brushstroke, each color choice, each piece of texture feels personal. It’s a testimony to who she is and where she’s from. And also, who she’s still becoming. Aalayah often says that creating has become sacred to her. It’s a lifeline. Something that helped her through trauma, and now helps her celebrate pride and self-discovery. Through her art, she’s not just expressing herself—she’s honoring her ancestors and their stories.
Her work This Life is a fragile, beautiful thing captures her voice clearly. Acrylic is her tool of choice, and she plays with texture to pull you into the canvas. There’s always something moving in her pieces—not just visually, but emotionally. She’s not afraid of bold color. Bright, daring compositions dominate her surfaces, filled with energy, filled with feeling. The interplay of light and shadow adds another dimension. You’re not just looking at something; you’re being asked to feel it.
The influence of her Wiradjuri heritage is everywhere in her work, even as she lives and creates from the fast-paced streets of Melbourne. That contrast—between Country and city—shows up in her paintings. There’s a rhythm, an urgency, but also moments of silence and reflection. Through contemporary forms and abstract gestures, she expresses something timeless. A story much older than the canvas itself.
Aalayah talks about experience as a virtue. That idea runs deep in her paintings. Each one feels like a memory or a moment turned inside out. She’s not documenting life as it looks. She’s showing you how it feels. Joy, sadness, confusion, fear, heartbreak, bliss—all crammed into one image, sitting side by side without needing to explain themselves.
There’s no single message in her work, but there is always meaning. Her paintings are invitations. Not to interpret, necessarily, but to witness. They don’t demand answers. They just ask you to be present. That might be the most powerful part. Aalayah’s art makes space—for herself, for others, for culture, for grief, for return.
And in a world where Indigenous stories have been too often distorted, erased, or appropriated, Aalayah offers hers with clarity and grace. She isn’t painting to educate. She’s painting to connect. And if that connection teaches you something, so be it. But she’s not here to perform. She’s here to speak. In paint, in thread, in the quiet resilience of showing up as she is.
Aalayah’s artistic journey is still young, but her work feels grounded. Grounded in land, in family, in community—even from a distance. The longing for return is present in many of her pieces. But it’s not desperate. It’s patient. Steady. Rooted in knowing that return is coming. That reconnection is happening, one brushstroke at a time.
Whether she’s weaving raffia or painting with heavy texture, Aalayah holds space for herself and others. She says she paints what words cannot say. And it’s true. Her work doesn’t explain. It expresses. And that is more than enough.
