On Euphausia superba (Lisa Roberts)

‘Sonder’ noun. The realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.¹

Lisa and I first connected in August 2024. I remember the phone call vividly. Perhaps because that was less than a year ago, but in my gut, I am certain it was more than that. Deborah Malor, artist, academic, now-mainlander, suggested Lisa reach out to Sawtooth ARI where I work to discuss an exhibition that was seeking a Launceston host. I sat in my car, restless, with the scent of old tobacco filling my nose and untidied food wrappers at my feet. In contrast, Lisa and I shared the most intellectually stimulating conversation I’d had in some time. We exchanged a brief synopsis of each of our life stories, whirling through different topics: Lisa’s passion for science despite her artistic identity, my failed mathematical modelling degree, the sharing of knowledge and the random cards from life experiences.
When we met in person for the first time seven months later we embraced each other. A friendship had already formed through our countless conversations on the phone. It was ironic, as I am someone who has the tendency to avoid phone calls at all costs. After a brief back and forth, the exhibition Portrait of Community (2025) came to life. In Sawtooth’s Back Space, Lisa’s desk sits against the back wall, covered in notebooks from times past and present, which she continually adds to throughout the exhibition. The desk is surrounded by the rest of the exhibition: silk mesh glowing from a UV light, a David Attenborough-style video projected on the wall, a chair with angel wings hung from the ceiling, hand-dyed silks by Trawlwooway artist Vicki West covered in audience-created message cards to the environment… too many elements to list. Lisa created an exhibition in which she herself was part of the installation. She temporarily became an artwork passionate about conversation and connecting with friends, old and new, although some would argue this is actually an expression of her permanent state.

Later we reflect on our time together at Sawtooth. I lost count of the many faces that entered the space excited to visit their friend, for the opportunity to re-connect,  stumbling into deep conversations with Lisa purely by coincidence. Scientists, artists, and activists, all found themselves tucked in the shed that is Sawtooth. In turn, each visitor became a part of Portrait of Community in their individual ways, and as their varied conversations unfolded, they were simultaneously fixed, captured and kept safe in one of Lisa’s notebooks. 

Lisa is ‘a living entity, in its broadest sense’ and communication is her gesture of enquiry.² Born on Norfolk Island just after the Second World War, ‘communication is in her blood.’ Her father was in charge of setting up radio communication on the island and she credits his interest in communication as the seed of her own fascination. Despite her father’s work as a radio facilitator, the same skills of connection could not be said for home. The disconnect between her parent’s communication styles, Lisa concludes, also played a large part in formulating the ethos of her practice: A practice based on community-led projects designed to draw different people together, and bridge the gaps between them, creating new channels of communication they may not otherwise be able to build. 

In the early 2000s, Lisa spent time as an artist in residence in Antarctica, resulting in a series of animated works and compact notebooks. The ongoing impact of this residency is clear in her works and conversations. While on a ship on the Antarctic waters, she spent time with scientists who were studying krill and phytoplankton. She observed the scientists’ process closely – how they surveyed the seas, including using the silks that Lisa now repurposes in her exhibited works.

Lisa’s totem is Euphausia superba (Antarctic krill), through her matrilineal First Nations’ lineage. Krill rely on each other, existing only as communities. Her planktonic existence is affirmed by the swarms of people that she finds herself constantly intertwined with. During Portrait of Community’s showing, Lisa curated a panel of guest speakers: scientists, artists, and activists, who spoke of their experience and connection to climate change.⁴ Co-created by Lisa and myself, the afternoon consisted of personal narratives and fields of interest woven together with informative snippets, some of which were profoundly affecting. During this panel Dr Gemma Gillette, who is an academic in  nature-assisted benefits for coral nursery restoration, taught us something about the ocean that will forever be etched in my brain: ‘Every second breath we take comes from phytoplankton.’⁵ I’d heard all about the trees and oxygen growing up, but the ocean and its phytoplankton’s oxygen regeneration was knowledge long overdue. This fact baffled me, and I found myself writing the phrase on repeat on one of the pieces of paper that each guest had in front of them. These thought-notes later became a part of Portrait of Community’s installation.

In the moments of solitude in the gallery, Lisa was consistently adding to her various journals. Each journal handmade, a skill passed down to her by Launceston-based print-making icon Melissa Smith and painter-extraordinaire Helene Weeding. During our recent video call, Lisa revealed her ever-flowing pile of notebooks. Each one a gathering of pages, hand-stitched together, sandwiched between a sturdy front and back, but an exposed spine. Sketches, scribbles; to-do lists, receipts; snippets from conversations, new information; memories of the past. Hundreds of journals, together forming a living archive of her daily practice. 

When I asked Lisa how she’d feel about me writing this article, she lit up, a grin carried by her long love-affair with notebooks. My favourite double-spread page has black abstract watercolour markings on one half; on the other half, a nail salon receipt with Lisa’s annotation in ink: ‘NEVER DO THIS AGAIN.’ A portrait of Lisa’s humour, braided with her unrelenting commitment to exploration.

When we last spoke, I told her my intention to return the notebook to her via post. Instead, she told me she wants to give away all her notebooks.

I now have ongoing custody of the journal, on one condition: that I add to it. 

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Written by Zara Sully, in collaboration with Lisa Roberts. Lisa and Zara are friends and artists who share a deep passion for connecting people, fostering conversation, and creating spaces where art and community can flourish together.

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[1] ‘Sonder,’ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/23536922667/sonder (accessed July 2025).

[2] Phone conversation with Lisa Roberts, 17 June 2025, 2.15pm.

[3] Phone conversation with Lisa Roberts, 17 June 2025, 2.15pm

[4] Portrait of Community exhibition, Sawtooth ARI, Launceston, 2025.

[5] National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, ‘How much oxygen comes from the ocean?’, NOAA Ocean Service, https://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/ocean-oxygen.html (accessed August 2025).