As part of Neurodiversity Celebration Week, Quinn Earthchild’s story provides a unique perspective on living as a neurodivergent artist in a world that often doesn’t make space for difference.
A self-proclaimed high-masking autistic person with ADD ADHD, Quinn’s journey through life has been an intricate dance of discovering and navigating their creative potential, while also managing the challenges that come with neurodivergence.
Keep up with the latest music news, festivals, interviews and reviews here.
View this post on Instagram
From a young age, Quinn’s life has been shaped by their deep connection to art and music. “I’ve always been an artist,” Quinn shares with a smile. “Before I could even talk, I was drawing. Mum would hand me wildlife books from the op shop, and I’d be tracing animals. I was writing songs and poems before I was conversationally fluent.”
Their childhood was filled with creative exploration, from miniature landscapes and paper mache projects to pretending to be animals, exploring the garden in their yellow gumboots and ladybird backpack. “I’m basically the same person now,” they said, “They say your personality settles at five, and I look back at that age and yeah—it’s just who I am.”
Despite this early affinity for creativity, Quinn never thought they could be a musician. Their school lacked funding for music programs, and their community had little to offer in the way of formal training. However, Quinn’s father’s worked with synthesizers, along with their own burgeoning love of folk music, eventually sparked a transition. “I grew up around electronic music, but I was always more of a folk person.”
“Then, going into classical painting, I started to realise that a lot of my best friends were musicians. I had a cheap guitar, taught myself how to read tabs, and went into finger-picking. Slowly, the poems I’d been writing transitioned into songwriting, and at 18, I released my first EP with the help of one of my best friends, a musical prodigy. That was the moment I got hooked.”
Quinn’s journey into music has been marked by obsessive exploration of instruments, from steel-string guitars and classical fingerstyle to more experimental instruments like violin, viola, clarinet, accordion, and even beatboxing and loop pedals.
But Quinn’s creative expression doesn’t stop with music. Their life has been an intricate web of various artistic forms. They’re also a trained sustainability educator, experienced in gardening and permaculture, and a recently graduated acrobat from circus school. Circus school is a fitting addition, considering the number of hobbies Quinn is juggling. “It’s the eternal struggle being ADHD and autistic,” they admit. “I do everything. I’m constantly working on my development as a musician, keeping up my painting, managing my gardens, and now I’m an accredited acrobat.”
As they navigate the complexities of neurodivergence, Quinn acknowledges that their art is not just an outlet—it’s an essential tool for survival. “The struggle of being neurodivergent is having a practice that’s so creatively bountiful but doesn’t fit into marketable pigeonholes,” they said. “That’s often a barrier for getting opportunities in this world, which doesn’t have much room for people who think differently.”
Quinn’s diagnosis of autism and ADHD came only a few years ago, though hetheirr struggles were present from an early age. “I come from a strong neurodivergent family, so growing up, I thought it was just normal. I was high-masking, and because I did well academically, I was placed in the ‘gifted’ category. It worked for a while, until society’s demands started to take a toll. My nervous system began to deteriorate which affected my physical health. I was hospitalized multiple times, and that was my wake-up call. I realized I’d been compensating for years and pushing my neurodivergence aside.”
Growing up, Quinn channeled their hyperactivity into art. “I’d draw in maths class and daydream out the window. I didn’t realise how much I was masking until I reached adulthood. Even in rest my brain is working on world-building or making a garden bed, it doesn’t stop. I had no option but to become an artist. I liked that art was something I put effort into consciously, it’s like watering a garden for it to grow, it’s a skill you take time developing but I did definitely have the right brain for it too”
Quinn’s artistic process is deeply intertwined with their emotions and neurodivergent experience. Their work revolves around feelings of not belonging, of creating safe spaces where they can feel heard and understood. “The core of my work, both in music and art, comes down to this feeling of not belonging and searching for a place where I do,” they explain. “I create worlds for my emotional safety—a cocoon of things that inspire me and make me feel seen.”
Another aspect of Quinn’s creativity is their synesthesia—something they only recently realised not everyone experiences. “Our language is so synesthetic I was like “of course you’re feeling blue” or “of course you became so angry you saw red”.
“I grew up watching things like Fantasia – here’s a classical music score and here’s someone’s interpretation of it visually and that was how I saw the world. Music is colour, smell is sometimes taste, feelings are texture in their form. A hyper connective brain that can’t stop making connections.”
This creative intensity can be both a blessing and a curse, particularly in a world that often fails to accommodate neurodivergent minds. “The world isn’t built for neurodivergent people. If we still lived in community-based settings, it would be different. But art has always been my crutch and my saviour.”
Despite these struggles, Quinn is determined to make space for themself and their creative practices. “The future for me looks like slowing down,” they said. “I’m embracing the fact that I’m making my show, and I’m restructuring my life to give me time for all these things. I want to invite people who understand me into my circle—people who truly get it.”
Quinn’s story is a powerful reminder that creativity and neurodivergence are not barriers but strengths. By embracing their own unique experience and learning to navigate a world that wasn’t built for them, they continues to push boundaries in both art and life, while creating spaces for others to feel seen and heard.
Keep an eye out for all our Neurodiversity Celebration Week Features this week on Forte Mag.
