Bill Henson and Louise Hearman live in a horse stable turned mechanic’s workshop turned artists’ haven in the hipsterfied Melbourne suburb of Northcote. The monolithic red brick 19th-century structure is at the end of an unassuming cul-de-sac, and entry is via a private cobblestone laneway shielded from the outside world by a massive iron and wire gate.

“We feel very fortunate to live in a large chook shed at the end of the universe,” chuckles Henson. “It’s a place that’s very reassuring, a retreat with a gently calibrated chaos.”