"The only thing I ever like doing is painting," says Margaret Olley. People say, 'Come on, let's have lunch or dinner,' but I would rather be painting. Although, I have got that Gemini side to me - I like to go out a little bit, and I think you should - just to see what's going on. But only for a little while."

Olley's house is her studio, and it is perfectly adapted to her needs. She says she could never travel to a separate studio, because she is too accustomed to looking at a painting in the evening, thinking about it in bed, getting up and setting to work with a fresh idea.

She will work for a while in one room, then move to another. A particular room may serve as a base for a few months, but she will go and work elsewhere when the light begins to fade. At the end of the day she often finds herself painting in the kitchen. Everywhere she goes, the essentials are put in place: the music is plugged in, cigarettes, matches and ashtrays are close at hand.

A first view of Olley's environment can be daunting. The walls are painted with strong colours and hung with paintings. Every surface is encrusted with objects - sculptures, knick-knacks, bowls, fruit and flowers. It is partly subject matter, partly the result of a life-time's compulsive collecting. She has no problem with dust, which adds a comfortable patina to her treasures. Many artists would find it impossible to work in such crowded spaces, but Olley has an equivalent dread of those antiseptic, white boxes in which contemporary artworks are exhibited. In her own exhibitions she prefers to include a few pieces of furniture, to stop the walls being "in optical opposition" to the paintings.

Olley is famous as the subject of portraits by artists such as Dobell and Drysdale, and as a generous patron to many public galleries, but all this is a sideline. "Painting has been my whole life," she says. "And it doesn't really matter what you paint. You can go on painting different versions of the same old thing. Look what Morandi did with a few bottles."

"My teacher, Douglas Dundas, always told me I had greedy eyes," she says. "It is a failing, so I have to control it, but there are times when I let it have free reign. I'll often work with three or four subjects that I'm painting on the same table. It might look like chaos to you, but I know what I want. Then sometimes things happen by accident and you seize the moment. But I'll go on changing things until I think they're right. I'm rather like the Galapagos lizard. I wait for the energy to flow, and then there's no stopping me."

The only pause in Olley's progress in recent years came when she fell into "a big hole of black depression." Friends suggested she should paint her way out if it, but this went against the grain. "I don't believe in painting your depression," she says. "Why inflict that on anybody else? What I love is celebrating life. We're only here for a short moment. Celebrate it."

Nowadays Olley seems as vital as ever, and is full of plans and ambitions. She'd like to paint more landscapes, she'd like to make etchings and sculptures. "In my mature age," she says, "I feel I'm extremely lucky to be doing what I like doing, and I think I'm painting better than ever. The terrible thing is that I'm running out of time. Hurry, hurry last days!"

John McDonald

View the full list of artists photographed by R. Ian Lloyd