Emily Soley grew up in the English countryside, studied Spatial Design at Central Saint Martins, and landed her first job at Foster + Partners before she'd even submitted her final dissertation. It should have been the start of a linear architecture career. Instead, it became the beginning of a much longer detour — through Melbourne, a small design studio, freelance interiors work, and the slow realisation that the thing she'd been doing quietly on the side since she was 16 was actually the thing.
Draw My Home, the house portrait practice Emily now runs from Melbourne's inner north, didn't arrive with a business plan. It arrived with a portfolio of hundreds of drawings, a process already refined, and clients already willing to pay. What she'd spent years treating as pocket money had quietly become her career. Her work sits at the intersection of illustration, architecture and memory — less interested in accurate representations of buildings than in the stories those buildings hold. Connection, nostalgia, and a sense of place aren't just themes for Emily. They're the whole thing!
Can you tell us a little about your first few steps in your career. Was there a moment or experience when you realised this was what you'd do as a career?
I studied Spatial Design at Central Saint Martins in London before completing a degree in Interior Architecture. Before I'd even handed in my final dissertation, I landed a job as an architectural illustrator at Foster + Partners, which felt completely surreal at the time. I worked on some incredible projects around the world, but over time I realised I was becoming highly specialised in a very niche role. While many of my peers were gaining broader experience across design and project delivery, I was becoming known for one thing. So eventually, I quit.
I traded the corporate world for the rest of the world. With no real plan and no intention of staying, I arrived in Melbourne almost ten years ago. I worked in a small design studio, did everything from admin to project managing a studio fit-out, and later tried my hand at freelance interior design. But nothing really ever felt like a long term fit.
The funny thing is, Draw My Home already existed. The name was dreamt up years earlier around my parents' kitchen table, and I still remember that conversation clearly. I think I was only 16 or 17. Drawing houses started as a way to earn a bit of spare cash and later helped fund my university studies.
No matter what job I was doing, the house portraits quietly ticked along in the background. By the time Covid rolled around (and I found myself reflecting on…everything - much like the rest of the world), I'd already drawn hundreds and hundreds of houses. It suddenly dawned on me that I'd spent years building a business without really meaning to. The portfolio was there, the process was there, and people were already willing to pay for it. I just hadn't connected the dots.
Looking back now, it seems obvious. Draw My Home combines everything I've ever loved: illustration, architecture and storytelling. It also fits seamlessly around family life. With two young children, I can't imagine still being in the corporate world. So what started as little pocket money has somehow become a career - a career that I absolutely adore.
What lessons from your career have most shaped your style and approach?
One of the biggest lessons has been that people connect with stories far more than perfection.
Early in my career I was focused on technical accuracy and creating polished drawings. While that foundation is still important, I've learned that the artwork people treasure most is often tied to nostalgia, memory and emotion.
Running my own business has also taught me the value of consistency. Small actions repeated over time have had a far bigger impact than waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Tell us about the core values or philosophies that guide your creative practice.
Connection, nostalgia and a sense of place.
I'm fascinated by the emotional relationships people have with buildings and the places they return to time and time again. A house might represent a first home, a childhood memory, a family gathering or a significant chapter in someone's life. Even something as simple as queuing at your local bakery every morning can become part of your identity through familiarity and routine.
My goal is always to create artwork that feels personal and meaningful rather than simply producing a representation of a building. I'm interested in capturing the feeling of a place, the memories, rituals and stories attached to it - as much as the architecture itself.
What needs to change, so emerging and under-represented creative professionals have more opportunity, are seen and heard?
I think there needs to be greater transparency around what a creative career actually looks like.
It's easy to see someone's work online and assume they've always been successful, but most people have spent years figuring things out, trying different things, getting rejected and wondering if they're on the right path.
Social media is a funny one. It's helped me enormously. I've connected with artists all over the world, and some have been incredibly generous with their advice and support. But it can also make it feel like everyone is chasing the same thing, or creating work for an algorithm rather than for themselves.
I'd love to see more opportunities for emerging creatives to connect with people in real life, ask questions and see behind the curtain a bit. Some of the best advice I've ever received has come from a casual conversation with another creative.
How important is it that creative professionals find their unique voice?
It's incredibly important, but I don't think it's something that appears overnight.
A unique voice is usually the result of years of making work, following your interests and paying attention to what keeps pulling you back. I think there's a lot of pressure on emerging creatives to find their style as quickly as possible, but in reality it often develops naturally over time. For me, that was always buildings, neighbourhoods and the stories connected to them. No matter what direction my career took, I kept coming back to those subjects. The more I embraced those interests, rather than trying to force something else, the more my work started to feel like my own.
Looking ahead, what do you think are the key factors that will influence change for creative professionals?
Technology will continue to reshape the industry, particularly with the growth of AI. It's both exciting and scary.
At the same time, I think there will be an increasing appreciation for work that feels personal, handmade and connected to a real person. People are looking for authenticity and human stories, which is why I think it's becoming more important than ever to show the face and personality behind the work. The creatives who learn to adapt while staying true to what makes their work distinctive will be the ones who thrive. Technology can help us work smarter, but it can't replace lived experience, personal perspective or genuine human connection.
How much does your city influence your work?
Melbourne influences my work enormously.
I live in the inner north and spend a lot of time walking through neighbourhoods, noticing architecture, local businesses and the small details that give places their character. Many of my personal projects are direct love letters to Melbourne's buildings, cafes, pubs and streetscapes. The city constantly provides inspiration.
That said, through Draw My Home I've now illustrated hundreds of houses across Australia. It's given me a real appreciation for the different architectural styles, communities and stories that exist from one suburb, town or city to the next. No two places are quite the same, and that's something I find endlessly fascinating.
How much does your culture influence your work?
I grew up in the English countryside and have lived in Australia for almost a decade, so I think my work sits somewhere between those two experiences.
Moving countries gave me a much deeper appreciation for place and belonging. It made me realise just how much meaning we attach to buildings and neighbourhoods. I felt this most strongly when my own family home, a 650-year-old house, was sold a few years ago. I remember walking around and hugging the walls before we left. It sounds ridiculous, but those walls held so many memories.
That experience helped me understand why people form such strong emotional connections to places. A lot of my work explores those ideas of home, memory and connection, and why certain buildings become such an important part of our stories.
Tell us some of your favourite, creative professionals and inspiring places in your city!
Some of my favourite creatives are people who document everyday life and places with warmth, personality and a strong sense of nostalgia. I'm always inspired by artists who make us see familiar places in new ways or explore unexpected mediums and subject matter.
One artist I love is Katrin from That Time That. Her pencil drawings are centred around memories and ordinary moments, and there's something incredibly moving about the way she captures the emotional significance of seemingly everyday experiences.
In Melbourne, I love spending time around Fitzroy, Collingwood, Northcote and Thornbury. They're full of character, independent businesses and beautiful architecture. Some of my best ideas have come from simply wandering the streets, noticing interesting shopfronts, old buildings or details that most people walk past every day. The neighbourhood itself often becomes part of the creative process.
What should emerging creative professionals keep in mind as they begin their design career?
Don't underestimate the value of starting before you feel ready.
It's easy to believe everyone else has a clear plan, but most careers are built through trial and error. There will be plenty of moments where things don't go to plan, and that's completely normal.
Make the work you're genuinely interested in, share it consistently and be patient. Opportunities often come from unexpected places, and progress usually happens much more gradually than it appears from the outside.
I'd also encourage emerging creatives to connect with people in person whenever they can. We spend so much time communicating through screens, but a face-to-face conversation is often far more impactful than an email. Some of my best stockists, collaborations and opportunities have come from simply introducing myself, showing my work and trying my luck.
Is there anything else you'd like to add?
As my career has progressed, I've become more and more fascinated by people's connections to place and how certain buildings become woven into the fabric of our lives. I feel incredibly lucky to have built a career around helping people celebrate those stories and connections. It's not something I take for granted.