Exploring the Creative World of Henryk Lobaczewski

The world of art and photography is full of talented individuals who bring unique perspectives to their work, and one name that stands out is Henryk Lobaczewski. Based in Sydney, Australia, he’s a self-taught creative who has made a name for himself in both fashion photography and contemporary abstract art. His journey is one of evolution, taking him from capturing stunning editorial shoots to experimenting with paint and texture on canvas. In this post, I’ll dive into who Henryk Lobaczewski is, how he built his career, and what makes his work so intriguing, whether you’re a fan of photography, art, or just curious about someone who’s carved out a space in both fields.

Henryk Lobaczewski’s story starts with photography, a field he didn’t initially set out to conquer. Born and raised in Australia, he grew up with an interest in visual expression, dabbling in graffiti and sketching as a young kid. Those early days weren’t about a clear career path—they were about playing with ideas and seeing what stuck. After spending some time in Spain painting commissioned murals for schools and skate parks, he returned to Australia with a question: how could he turn his creativity into something sustainable? That led him to study graphic design, a practical choice that gave him a foundation in composition and aesthetics. He worked as an art director for a while, but photography soon started pulling him in a different direction.

What’s interesting about Henryk is that he never formally studied photography. He’s completely self-taught, picking up a camera and learning through trial and error. Back when he was studying design, he noticed he kept focusing his projects around images. He didn’t like using stock photos—it felt like a shortcut—so he’d either tweak them in Photoshop or shoot his own. His parents had photography gear lying around the house, though it was just a hobby for them. That sparked something in him, and he bought a better camera to start experimenting. At first, it was landscapes with natural light, nothing too technical. But over time, he taught himself the skills that would eventually land him in the fashion world.

By the early 2000s, Henryk had shifted gears into professional photography, and fashion became his focus. He built a portfolio that caught attention—bold, colorful shoots with a mix of editorial flair and commercial appeal. One standout project was a vibrant session with model Eliza Humble, styled by Daniel George. 

The shoot was loud and eclectic, with jewelry, prints, and even a puppy thrown into the mix. Makeup artist Amelia Axton went big with bright, crazy colors, while Lauren McGowan styled Eliza’s platinum blonde hair into waves. It all came together in a way that felt chaotic yet cohesive, showing off Henryk’s ability to capture energy on camera. That kind of work put him on the map, and soon he was shooting for magazines and brands, building an archive that’s still impressive today.

Fashion photography gave Henryk a platform to explore beauty and aesthetics, but it wasn’t always smooth sailing. He’s talked about how he’d push shots to find that “fine line” between good and amazing. Getting a decent photo in fashion is easy—models, lighting, and clothes do half the work—but he wanted more. He’d tweak angles, adjust lighting, or change compositions to get something extraordinary. It’s a tricky balance, knowing when to stop before overdoing it. He’s said that the real beauty is in the capture itself, not heavy retouching. Imperfections, to him, are what make a shot stand out. That mindset shaped his work, whether he was shooting for a glossy magazine like Velvet or a brand campaign.

What makes Henryk’s work special is how it reflects his journey. His photography had a distinct style: vibrant, dynamic, and a little unconventional. He’d mix bold accessories with wild makeup, creating shots that popped off the page. His abstract art carries that same energy but in a different form. A piece might start with a base of concrete, rough and industrial, then get layers of bright gel or polymer that swirl across the surface. He’s not afraid to use a lot of material—sometimes it’s a mass of product, building up until the texture tells a story. It’s immersive in a way photography can’t be, pulling you into the physicality of the work. 

He’s talked about how his lack of formal training has been an advantage. Without rules to follow, he’s free to experiment. In photography, that meant pushing boundaries with lighting or composition. In painting, it’s about letting the materials guide him. He doesn’t sketch out a plan beforehand—he starts with a color or texture and sees where it takes him. That spontaneity is what keeps his art fresh. It’s not predictable, and it doesn’t try to be. If a piece doesn’t work, he’ll scrape it off and start over. That willingness to fail and try again is part of what drives him.

Looking at his photography archive, you can see the roots of his painting style. A shoot from 2011 with Bloginity shows his love for color—model Eliza Humble draped in prints and accessories, shot against a clean backdrop. The focus was on the subject, but the way he played with hues and contrasts feels familiar if you’ve seen his art. Fast forward to today, and those colors are smeared across canvas instead of captured in a frame. It’s a shift, but not a disconnect. Both mediums let him chase that “edge of amazing” he’s always after—the moment when a creation clicks into something unforgettable.

Henryk’s career has had its rewards, and he’s spoken about what keeps him going. In photography, it was that rush after a shoot when he knew he’d nailed it. Editing a shot and seeing it come together was a high point—knowing he’d made something great. Painting gives him that same feeling, but on a different scale. Finishing a canvas after hours of work, stepping back, and realizing it’s exactly what he wanted—that’s what he lives for. It’s not about awards or fame, though he’s had success in both fields. It’s about the moment of creation, when everything aligns.

The shift to digital has been on his mind too. He loves print—there’s something about the smell of a new magazine that he can’t get over. He’s mentioned Velvet as a favorite, and he’s shot for publications that look stunning in physical form. But he knows the world’s changing. Online editorials are taking over, and he’s open to that. iPad magazines, like one Richard Branson backed, have caught his eye. He thinks print might fade, which would be a shame, but the web makes his work more accessible. He’s not big on watermarks—those turn a photo into an ad, not art—but his site uses flash to keep images safe. If someone uses his shots for inspiration or a desktop background, he’s fine with that.

Protecting his work online is a challenge, but he’s more focused on the craft than the theft. Photography shaped the industry by going digital, and he’s watched that happen. Seeing his images in print was a thrill, but the web lets more people find them. His paintings, though, are harder to steal—they’re physical objects, not files. He sells them through galleries or direct inquiries, keeping it simple. The tactile nature of his art is what sets it apart from his photos. You can’t fully experience a concrete and gel canvas through a screen—it’s meant to be seen up close.

His process is hands on and messy. He doesn’t use delicate brushes or tiny tools—it’s about big movements and bold choices. He might pour gel onto a canvas, spread it with a palette knife, then add concrete for weight. The thickness of the paint and the texture of the stroke are what inspire him. It’s not a quiet, careful act; it’s physical. He’s in it every day, painting until he’s satisfied or starting over if he’s not. That dedication shows in the finished pieces—they’re not just decorations, they’re experiences. You can see the layers, the effort, the decisions he made along the way.

For anyone who loves creativity, Henryk’s story is a good one to follow. He’s proof you don’t need a degree or a set path to make it—just curiosity and a willingness to learn. His photography captured beauty in a fleeting way, freezing moments for magazines and brands. His paintings hold onto that beauty differently, letting it build up in layers you can touch. Both show a mind that’s always chasing something more, whether it’s the perfect shot or the right stroke of paint. If you’re in Sydney, you might spot his work in a gallery someday. If not, his online presence gives you a window into what he’s about.

Henryk Lobaczewski’s journey is all about growth. From graffiti to graphic design, from fashion photography to abstract art, he’s kept moving forward. His style—vibrant, textural, and a little rough around the edges—ties it all together. He’s not afraid to get messy, to take risks, or to start over when it’s not working. That’s what makes him stand out in a world full of polished perfection. Whether you’re into his photos or his paintings, there’s something there to appreciate—a creative spark that’s still burning bright.

That shift from photography to painting is what defines Henryk Lobaczewski today. He didn’t ease into it—he jumped in headfirst. His abstract works are a departure from the controlled, polished world of fashion shoots. They’re raw, textural, and full of movement. He uses materials like concrete, polymer, and gels, layering them onto canvas with a heavy hand. The result is art you can almost feel—thick, immersive pieces that pull you in. It’s not about clean lines or perfect symmetry; it’s about capturing the process itself. He’s said that his paintings are inspired by color, texture, and the physical act of applying paint. That freedom to break conventions, something he credits to being self-taught, shines through in every piece.

Walking into his studio, you’d see canvases stacked against the walls, some still wet with paint. There’s no fancy setup—just a space where he can work every day. He’s described how painting took over once he started. What began as a way to fill the void during lockdown became a full time passion. Photography hasn’t disappeared from his life—he still picks up the camera for projects—but art has become the focus. It’s a natural progression in some ways. His photography was always about aesthetics, and painting lets him explore that on a deeper level. The textures he loved capturing in a lens—fabric, skin, light—now come alive through his hands.