In 2012 in a children’s playground I went partially blind for twenty minutes. Sometimes I think the making of these paintings is an attempt to recapture that sensation. Paint pots, cling film, rags, torn up pieces of digital prints scattered about the studio in an unmanageable chaos that finds itself somewhat reflected on the surface of the painting. But there on that surface, it is bludgeoned into some sort of cohesion. An order that I would like to think is out of reach and indiscernible. An unrestricted pallet, an unrestricted range of techniques and an unrestricted pool of source materiel leads to something disgusting. Each mark or rendering is given a new context by the following marks and renderings that alter that context far away from that which they were intended. It’s an attempt to remove any knowing, a contrived attempt to remove its own contrivance. An ultimate sitting on the fence by postulating all painterly options, never ruling out any single position. A cancelling out narrative that is less than the smallest potential; ‘the coin spun in the air for an inordinately long time before eventually landing on headstails’ - how it might read were these paintings to be words. A nod to that highly overrated concept, the concept of fairness; a true source of misery Authentic/inauthentic art from an inauthentic individual in an attempt to become authentic.
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