When I moved from the Shire to the Central Coast, I didn’t expect to be surrounded by artists of every kind. My move was driven by a desire to downsize the mortgage, live closer to the beach, slow down, reconnect, and ground myself. Discovering a vibrant local art community was an unexpected gift.
The community here is creative and alive, though not exactly thriving financially. But are there any truly thriving artist communities in Australia? Perhaps—but I’d be surprised.
Most artists today live under constant financial pressure. To make art without that looming weight has become a luxury. Some balance jobs and professional reputations in other fields, others teach, and all of us chase likes and followers on digital platforms that feel increasingly shallow, more about entertainment than genuine connection.
That’s a rabbit hole for another essay.
For now, I’m here in Avoca Beach, with the stress of selling, moving, renting, and buying behind me. A chance meeting with a local photographer connected me to dozens of artists, and within weeks I was immersed in a new creative web.
With so much local talent, you might expect to find plenty of galleries. In reality? Just a handful across the entire Central Coast.
One day, an artist invited me for coffee with a few others to look at a vacant shop space in a shopping centre—offered to artists to “make something creative.” Not your everyday opportunity. I jumped at it.
We took on the challenge of opening a gallery. None of us had experience running one, though a few had worked in galleries before. Within days we had rollers, paint, drills, and crowbars in hand, transforming what had been a discount women’s clothing store in a decadent part of Woy Woy into what would become Deep Water Art Space.
We imagined an art space with minimal commissions (just 5%), no staff or payroll costs, sustained entirely by member artists, and alive with events, talks, and workshops. Our informal collective grew to around 20 members—enough to keep the gallery open seven days a week.
It was a crash course in becoming a gallerist: sales, marketing, design, curation, storytelling, safety, and operations—all learned in a matter of weeks. After years in corporate leadership roles, I found it refreshing to see how quickly motivated people from different backgrounds came together, offering skills, ideas, and expertise freely. What can take years in corporations happened here in a few inspired weeks.
In just six weeks, we went from an empty shop to opening day—lightning speed.
We’ve now been open for two and a half months. In that time, we’ve hosted dozens of workshops, welcomed thousands of visitors, and transformed a dead corner of the shopping centre into a warm, alive, and welcoming space. Some people return simply to sit and recharge. Others come to play the piano, chat about the creative process, or ask about particular artworks.
We’ve also launched solo show opportunities for member and guest artists. Our first—an exhibition by Aboriginal elder Auty Lila—opened in our “Spotlight Room,” a former fitting room turned into a stage for individual voices.
Have we made millions in art sales? Not yet :-). We’re vibrant, not quite thriving. But we’ve found a sustainable model that can work in the world where financial constraints do not allow artists to rent big commercial spaces and we made the best out of it with the support of the shopping centre. More importantly, we touched thousands of people who found beauty, joy, and harmony in an unexpected place—right in the middle of a shopping centre.
The story of this artist-run gallery is only beginning.
Long live Deep Water Art Space.
P.S. If you’d like to connect, visit deepwaterartspace.au or email us at waterartspace@gmail.com