From woven fibres to sculpted metal and clay, textural wall art is redefining high-end living spaces with depth, tactility and light.
4 min
In 2026, home interior trends are predicted to reflect our growing need for warmth, comfort and personal expression: a response, perhaps, to the fast-paced, always-on lifestyle many of us feel forced to embrace.
And where better to start than the four walls that define your living space? Unlike flat prints and traditional paintings, textured art invites engagement, creating a dynamic ambience in living rooms, bedrooms and outdoor entertaining spaces.
Interior designers are increasingly looking to create a multi-sensory experience, and wall art is a key part of that: blending art and sculpture, creating a focal point, and showcasing changing light patterns throughout the day.
Weaving ways
Sydney-based fibre artist Catriona Pollard uses traditional techniques to transform foraged plant fibres and recycled materials into evocative, sculptural works.
“I discovered weaving more than a decade ago, at a time when I was searching for a slower, more mindful way of creating,” she says.
“I had been working in a very fast-paced environment, and weaving became a way to reconnect with myself and with nature.”
Much of Pollard’s inspiration comes directly from the Australian landscape, from the textures of bark, seed pods and leaves, to the movement of wind and water.
“I see weaving not just as a technique, but as a dialogue with nature, where the materials guide the direction of the work as much as I do,” she explains.
Textural wall art is credited with bringing another dimension to how we experience art. A flat canvas is viewed front-on, but fibre works extend into space and interact with their surroundings.
They cast shadows that shift throughout the day, so the work is never static, it is alive and responsive to light.
“There is something visceral about woven materials,” says Pollard.
“People instinctively want to touch them, to feel the textures and patterns. Fibre carries its own history, whether it is a vine that once grew in the bush or copper wire that once carried electricity, and that embedded story becomes part of the artwork.”
Metal magic
At the other end of the material spectrum, metal is also having a moment. Flexible, versatile and built to last, it brings a striking talking point to entertaining spaces indoors or out.
“I have been making sculptural wall art for over 30 years. I draw my ideas from organic shapes in nature and also from mechanical and architectural forms, and make work that has texture, depth and movement,” says Helen Neyland, artist and creative director at Entanglements Metal Art Studio at her Jasper Road studio in Melbourne’s Ormond.
“Metal wall art breaks away from a painting. It is 3D, it is textural, it works indoors or out, in foyers, large voids and bare walls. As the light passes through the day, the shadows change, stretching and falling across the wall. It gives you a work that is alive. You can backlight it for effect, or just let the light play naturally.”
Neyland notes that more people are seeking handmade, crafted pieces.
“There is more value placed on artisan work,” she says. “Sculptural wall art gives depth, presence and honesty that you do not get with mass-produced pieces.”
Emerging artists
Bluethumb Gallery is Australia’s largest online gallery of original art, representing more than 30,000 emerging and established artists across the country.
Nadia Vitlin is one of them. Based in Sydney, she has a background in geospatial and biological sciences and describes her art as bringing together “the study of nature, humanity, emotions and sociological phenomena through the lens of the scientist”, via the tactile form of clay.
“I do also create two-dimensional works, and love having ‘flat’ art on my walls, but 3D and textured wall art is really having a moment,” she says.
“This may be because they are like hung sculptures more than they are paintings, and can contribute to the feel of a space rather than directly telling a visual story. Another thing may be that the tactility of a 3D object is quite irresistible.
“I always let gallery visitors touch my artworks – within reason! It is especially tempting because I make hard clay look soft, so the brain cannot help but want to feel it to understand it.”
Sculptor Brad Gunn agrees. “I think the element of depth captures the viewer’s eyes more quickly. It invites touch, and the tactile nature gives a secondary element to the work.
“Also, as the light changes in the room, either from the natural sun’s rays, overhead lighting or lamps, the work will cast its own shadows and feel different throughout the day.”
This story appeared in the summer issue of Kanebridge Quarterly Magazine. You can buy a copy here.
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Randy Boyagoda’s new novel, “Lords of Serendipity,” delivers a biting satire of cheating, politics and dysfunction across modern universities.
5 min
Administrative cowardice. Rampant cheating. The soaking and scamming of undergrads and grad students. Performative wokeism. Intensifying competition for international tuition dollars from an expansive China.
These are either the latest dire headlines about American higher ed or the myriad subplots of “Lords of Serendipity,” an ambitious new novel by Randy Boyagoda. Unlike most campus fiction, its scope extends well beyond the cloister of the liberal arts classroom to whammy the entire university system, from its financial model to its function within a globalized economy. Along the way, it skewers its lightning-rod targets with a precision too sharp to be considered entirely fictional.
That its author is not only well-versed in satire, having written four other novels in the genre, but is also a professor of English at the University of Toronto and an experienced college administrator, further blurs the lines between comic fiction and brutal fact. It’s the kind of no-holds-barred book only a consummate insider would know to write—but only one who is also conveniently outside the American university system could get away with writing.
“This is someone who’s got the inside dope on what can go on at universities, especially with international students, and what kind of con games are going on,” said Margaret Atwood, a friend and fellow Torontonian.
The novel, like Boyagoda himself, is often very funny—even as the dilemmas its characters face read as tragedy. Its cast includes the bickering members of a Sri Lankan hotel cleaner’s family, insecure American freshmen, dead-end third-tier college professors and their highflying Ivy League counterparts and dispirited university functionaries. An old-fashioned Dickensian tale, it sweeps across continents and campuses, from a classic liberal-arts college to a stand-in for Harvard University to an urban technical school to the dilapidated buildings of a state-run university in Sri Lanka.
“I’m a joyful person,” Boyagoda said in an interview, though he prefers to see his outlook on academia as “hopeful” rather than optimistic. He smiles and laughs frequently. He bikes everywhere. He derives energy from his students and from his four daughters, ages 14 to 20. They help him and his American wife, Anna, also an educator, care for Boyagoda’s father, an immigrant from Sri Lanka who has dementia and lives with the family.
The germ of the novel came to Boyagoda during the pandemic, when he was serving as a vice-dean. An urban legend was circulating about a statistics grad student selling passing grades to international students. The cheating scheme itself may well have been apocryphal, but it felt tantalizingly plausible.
“As a novelist, it stayed with me,” Boyagoda said. “Who would sell grades for a stats course? Why would someone buy grades? What’s motivating them? Why wouldn’t the university be doing something about it?” What he didn’t want to do, he explained, was write “another novel about a creative writing professor and his drama with students.”
In addition to writing novels—the first of which was a finalist for Canada’s prestigious Giller Prize; he’s written eight books in total—Boyagoda teaches literature full-time. For his students next semester, kids raised in a purportedly “post-literature era,” he’s assigning three 700-page novels, he noted mischievously, books by George Eliot, Ralph Ellison and Kiran Desai.
On RateMyProfessors, students remark on Boyagoda’s heavy assignments, tough grading and distaste for cellphones, but also hail his “comedy.” When alerted to these reviews, Boyagoda laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he said.
“Randy’s one of those people in academia who is very well educated but doesn’t have an ounce of superiority about him,” said John Irving, who frequently guest lectures in Boyagoda’s classroom. “It’s amazing to see how willing students are to talk in his classrooms, how little afraid they feel of being mocked or put down—he gets complete candor out of them.”
Negotiating competing interests seems to come naturally to him. Like many college campuses, after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel, the University of Toronto was embroiled in protests, encampments and discord; part of the school’s response was to convene a working group on civil discourse. Boyagoda was put in charge, serving for two years. It’s the kind of thankless task many professors would flee from, but Boyagoda relished the prospect and thinks the group, which is ongoing, made progress.
He has since pivoted to another formidable academic concern: the waning prestige of the humanities. In July, Boyagoda became the director of the Jackman Humanities Institute and special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science. This fall, he is starting a series of gatherings he calls the Dead Book Club. (Dead writers feature heavily among his favorites: St. Augustine, Dante, William Faulkner, Evelyn Waugh, Saul Bellow.)
“The goal is to encourage students to read for its own sake and have conversation for its own sake,” Boyagoda said. “The importance of the humanities will be revealed to those who participate.”
“Lords of Serendipity,” which publishes next week, reflects Boyagoda’s commitment to the pursuit of knowledge: “I’m supposed to say I learn more from my students than they do from me, but no,” Boyagoda said. “I enjoy sharing my excitement and joy about literature and ideas. There are these moments when you are teaching and you can see someone’s face change because they didn’t know something and then they did. That moment when you’re actually watch someone enlarge themselves is deeply satisfying.”
In literary circles, Boyagoda is often referred to as a Catholic novelist, a description he embraces. “A novelist willing to give shape and voice to contemporary religious experience is needed,” Boyagoda said. “I understand myself as a Catholic novelist, provided that I’m not only a Catholic novelist, I’m also a South Asian novelist and I’m a Canadian novelist. I don’t want to be captive to one label.”
His characters, he said, are subjected to what he calls “Graham Greene character situations.”
“They are trying to do good in a fallen world and realize the most they can do is less harm than someone else would do in that same role,” he explained. “They have to accept they are complicit in something that provides some good thing to others. It’s a very Graham Greene way of thinking about sacrifice.”
The campus green they inhabit is a febrile zone in which lofty ideals and cynicism regularly collide. It’s a place where a traditional holiday college celebration is now an occasion for political protest. Kids freely police one another inside and out of the classroom with social media their constant, ready weapon of choice. International students, knowing their family’s financial futures hinge on their degrees, operate in terror of failure and deportation.
Early readers of the book include Gary Shteyngart and Junot Diaz, both of whom have taught at universities and written comic novels. They each contacted Boyagoda midway through to say, in essence, “You nailed it.”
As biting as “Lords of Serendipity” can be, Boyagoda’s faith in higher education remains undaunted.
“It’s absurd that we live in societies that make the decision to take people between the ages of 18 and 22, when they are most physically capable of contributing to our nations and communities, and tell them, ‘Go away for four years, and read and learn and have conversations,’” he said. “I want students to be aware of what an incredible privilege that is.”
Corrections & Amplifications
Randy Boyagoda is a special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science at the University of Toronto. An earlier version of this article incorrectly said he is a special adviser to the dean of humanities. (Corrected on Sept. 2)
