Sarah Seminutin
Ph. Christopher Allery
Stranger #7
Sarah Seminutin, Co-founder of Vacant Assembly
Talking with Sarah is like being immersed in a wave of energy and positivity. From the first moment I connected with her, I could feel her enthusiasm — a core part of her personality that drives her day-to-day pursuits. I was immediately struck by her care for people and her sensitivity, which fuels her desire to understand how we communicate and connect. For Sarah, it’s all about the interaction between people and spaces. Her goal is to spark conversations — whether as a space designer or a social facilitator, she invites people into dialogue. I was deeply fascinated by how her passion has led her to create spaces that foster connection across diverse communities. Our conversation explored the joy of experimentation, which, as Sarah said, “It’s like opening a mystery box. The challenges are unexpected, but that’s what keeps it interesting.” Play is another essential ingredient in her approach — a key to discovering new ideas and solutions.
How would you introduce yourself?
In a strange way, I’ve never really tied what I do to who I am. Usually, I just say I have a bunch of things I love and care deeply about. Then people ask, “Like what?” and I give them a little snapshot of the things I do. That’s when they usually raise their eyebrows and say, “Wow, you must be busy!” But honestly, I don’t think I’m any busier than anyone else—it’s just that my week is made up of lots of different zones.
I’d probably introduce myself as someone who thrives on diversity. I’m excited by doing different things each week. I don’t usually lead with “I run a business” or “I run a creative space”—those are just expressions of who I am, not definitions.
My introduction also depends on the context. One day I’m in a corporate meeting, the next I’m working with teenagers in public schools, and the day after that I might be in my studio or at an arts event. So, what I say about myself shifts depending on where I am and who I’m with.
That’s also why I try not to lean too heavily on labels or titles. When I meet someone, I prefer to ask questions that get to what they’re passionate about. “What do you do?” doesn’t always tell you much. I’m more interested in who someone is beyond their job.
According to your profile, you describe yourself as a multidisciplinary practitioner working across social work, art, making, and design. Could you share some key moments that have shaped your professional journey?
I think the thread that really drives everything for me is experimentation. I’ve changed careers a number of times, and I’ve genuinely enjoyed everything I’ve tried.
What’s always driven me is this need to understand people, how they communicate, how they connect, what drives them. I’m fascinated by how we create spaces that nourish us, especially in contrast to everyday experiences that can often feel isolating or alienating.
So for me, it’s always been about people and space. I’m also incredibly tactile and action-oriented—I need to experience life. Since I was a kid, I was constantly touching things, trying to figure out how they were made. I’ve always been a sensory person—smell, touch, sound, feeling—they’re all really important to me. And I bring all of that into how I think about people and space and making. It’s a kind of zone I keep returning to.
I’ve never been someone who always knew what they wanted to do. I’m just curious. I want to try things. I can imagine living a hundred different lives, and each one would be fascinating. That’s the joy of experimentation—it’s like opening a mystery box. The challenges are unexpected, but that’s what keeps it interesting.
Looking back, I think it was also about the people I met along the way. Because I’ve always been open to learning and doing different things, the people around me often led me into new directions. I tend to dive into something and explore it until it feels complete—sometimes that takes two years, sometimes five. Social work, for example, has been part of my life for over 15 years, but it’s taken many forms. Right now, I work as a facilitator, and I deeply love it.
So I guess the red thread through it all is that I keep experimenting until I land on something that lights me up. I wake up excited to try things and be part of something bigger. And I absolutely love learning from others—watching how they do things, the mistakes they make. It’s really been the process and the people that have shaped the way I see the world, and how I learn from it.
What has been the greatest challenge you’ve faced in your career, and how did it shape you?
One of the biggest challenges has been finding my authentic expression across the different spaces I work in. I’ve moved through photography, retail, social work, the arts — and in many ways, I had to forge my own path. My ideas often pull from different places and don’t always fit into traditional models, so I’ve had to trust my intuition, especially when I couldn’t see where things were heading.
It’s not easy to keep showing up for something uncertain — especially when it involves other people, their time, or resources — but I’ve learned to stay connected to what feels true to me. That means stepping through doubt, learning from failure, and choosing to keep going, even without a clear roadmap. People sometimes say “you’re so successful,” but for me, real success is waking up excited to be who I am and to do work that reflects that. It’s less about ticking boxes, and more about staying curious, intentional, and willing to grow.
Let’s talk about Vacant Assembly. Where did the idea come from, and how does it work?
Vacant Assembly was co-founded by Laura Pascoe, Sam Eyles, and me. We each brought different strengths and values to the table, and we started with a shared need for studio space. Laura needed a ceramics studio, Sam was doing painting and sculpture, and I was working with furniture and objects. We found a property but were told we had to take the entire 560 square meters or none of it — so, somewhat impulsively, we created a new business on the spot.
The idea was shaped by earlier experiences — including one space we ran before called Bib N' Brace Collective, which was our first attempt at building a creative business with multiple income streams. It didn’t last, but we learned a lot from the spectacular failures. I even wrote a list of lessons from that time and checked it when we started Vacant Assembly to make sure we weren’t repeating the same mistakes.
From the beginning, we had two goals: to create studios for ourselves and to test whether a creative space could be both sustainable and community-driven. We didn’t want to follow the narrative that artists always have to struggle financially — we wanted to challenge that scarcity mindset. Could we build something that feels abundant? Something that supports artists rather than just scraping by year after year?
Almost seven years later, Vacant Assembly is still evolving. We’re not a traditional gallery — we’re a hybrid space with multiple income streams. We rent studios to artists and small creative businesses, we have a gallery/venue hire space where anyone can apply to host their own events, and we offer pop-up spots for short exhibitions. People run their own shows and take full ownership, which means we’ve hosted everything from street art to Ikebana.
All of the money goes straight back into the business — renovating, staffing, and expanding what we can offer. We’re also working on building partnerships to support emerging artists and student exhibitions, especially as public funding disappears. It’s very experimental, and we never know exactly how the community will respond — but we’re always curious. We want to keep building something that invites people in, shares resources, and keeps creativity thriving.
5. What do “quality” and “ethics” in design mean to you?
For me, quality comes from a people-first perspective — it’s about creating connection and safe spaces where people can express their authenticity. Ethics is closely tied to that, it’s about the intentional practices we put in place to make sure those experiences are held with care and respect. Even when people bring different values or ways of living, ethical design invites them in with kindness. It’s the framework we build to protect and support that connection.
6. Your approach to design is driven by play and experimentation—innovating, repurposing, and revaluing materials. Could you tell me more about this?
For me, it all starts with acknowledging the context we’re living in. Revaluing and repurposing materials is a way of responding to the environmental challenges we face — and that applies to everything I do, from my small business to my personal life.
At Vacant Assembly, we make a conscious decision to redesign and renovate spaces slowly and thoughtfully. We don’t just hire a builder and bring in new materials. Instead, we aim to use around 85% recycled materials in every project. A lot of what we use comes from the community — people donate old timber flooring, hardware, and other materials. Of course, we have to be selective about what we accept, so we don’t end up with things we can’t use. But overall, it’s about reducing waste and keeping our footprint as small as possible.
We also choose to build things ourselves, even if it means learning new skills along the way. We spend time searching for affordable or discarded materials and transform them into something that feels meaningful and valuable. That hands-on process is playful and intuitive. Whether I’m designing furniture or working on a space, I rarely know what the final result will be — I just respond to what’s in front of me and let the project evolve.
There’s a kind of freedom in working with limitations. It pushes us to be more imaginative and creative. We come from a very sensory place — we want people to feel the history in space, to connect with the materials, and to experience the story of the building.
You’re currently working as a Program Manager and Facilitator with ABCN (Australian Business and Community Network), and also as a social worker. Do you see intersections between your practice as a designer and as a social facilitator?
Yes, totally! Sometimes I feel most alive when I’m in a room with 30 people, facilitating a group conversation where everyone learns from each other. A year nine boy might say something so profound that people of all ages walk away smarter. Those moments bring me so much joy—building conversations and genuine connections with others.
I think the intersection between design and facilitation happens in the way both disciplines begin with a conversation. When you create a space—especially a creative or physical one—you’re inviting people into that dialogue. They engage with it, share their knowledge, and in turn, you learn from them. It’s a two-way exchange that feels deeply authentic.
Running a space means constantly meeting new people—through exhibitions, events, or collaborations—and these gatherings naturally spark conversations that reflect shared values or questions about community and society. That’s where my social work side blends in. Right now, I express that mainly through facilitation, helping people explore topics and grow together.
Art and design are also about initiating conversations—by offering something of yourself, your perspective, your curiosity. Each piece I create, whether it’s a piece of furniture or a shared space, it’s about being authentic. I put out work that I love—not because I expect everyone to like it, but because it’s meaningful to me. And those who connect with it start a conversation with me.
When I co-create a space with others, I try not to control the outcome too tightly. Instead, it’s about collaboration, trusting the process, and making room for everyone to contribute. That’s how true connection happens—by sharing who we are and inviting others to do the same. It’s a valuable exchange.
How do you think design and architecture can continue to have a meaningful impact on our lives?
I believe design and architecture can be powerful conduits for addressing what society truly needs. As humans, we have deep desires for safety, connection, love, and the ability to share our values and find ourselves. Too often, architecture is seen as something aesthetic or exclusive—meant for the wealthy or privileged—which can have positive impacts but misses a larger point.
The real value lies in creating spaces that truly respond to human needs. In many societies today, people’s rights, dignity, and ability to connect are under pressure. That’s why even simple, raw spaces can be so powerful. At Vacant Assembly we often see people come for an exhibition and stay for hours, simply because the space invites connection.
There’s this idea of the “third place”—a space beyond work and home where people can feel safe and belong. Parks, cafés, public spaces—these are essential. Architecture needs to intentionally create environments where people feel genuinely met on a human level, where our basic needs are celebrated. And importantly, where there’s room for play. We all need public spaces where we can be free to play, explore, and enjoy who we are.
Is there a project you still dream of realising—something that, for some reason, hasn’t yet taken shape?
I’m really focused on seeing Vacant Assembly thrive, especially around wellbeing, economics, and a clear strategic plan for the next three years. It’s not just about big ideas on paper but real, actionable steps. Right now, we’re still pushing to make things work—rent keeps going up, and that cost gets passed on to renters, which isn’t ideal for a creative space.
I’m passionate about discovering solutions through experimentation and play. Play is key to finding answers because we don’t know exactly what they are yet. The real power lies in the collective—people coming together, saying, “Yes, I’m in, and I want to help.” It’s about creating a system where everyone benefits, regardless of background, where thriving is seen as a human right.
Given the world’s political and social challenges, where so many are denied these basic rights, it feels vital to start small—building tight communities that support each other. If things fall apart, we’ll have learned so much to do better next time. For me, the future of Vacant Assembly over the next 6–7 years is something I’m truly excited about.
Could you name a person who inspires you or someone you admire?
I’d like to name Gail Sorronda, a fashion designer with a shop in Brisbane. I deeply admire her authentic self-expression. It’s truly inspiring to see someone fully own who they are and bring such diverse creativity to a place like Brisbane.
Often, Brisbane and Queensland are seen as more conservative, with fewer cultural opportunities, and many artists choose to leave for bigger hubs. But Gail has been showing her collections here for 20 years, building a supportive community and enriching the local cultural scene with her authenticity.
I think her commitment to staying and making Brisbane a more vibrant and diverse place is pretty remarkable.
“Gail,
Wearing your clothes, learning how you see the world and watching how you constantly find new ways to share your vision is inspiring! Thank you for adding to my world.”
