I work in groups. In fact, in groups of groups. Paintings affect collages, discarded materials are reconfigured, and masquerade as paintings. Everything feeds back into everything else. Works are named after songs, painters, relatives, buildings…. stuff of the human world mostly.
There is a lot of chance in my practice. Compositions come and go in spite of intention. Parameters are set, and often broken. I never know what is going to happen. I might find a purple book cover, cut it up and keep placing it with families of shapes and colours until something happens. This could become a catalyst for a whole group of paintings, but these paintings are also affected by every other little thing, like what’s on the radio, a walk, a film. Life is absorbed and spat back out, like a diary. And so it goes.
The works aren’t of anything. They are awkward and playful and imperfect like real life. These aren’t shiny Hollywood paintings. They are mostly made with things that were going to be thrown away, and given an after-life as something nostalgic, intimate, uncertain and human.
(Lauri Hopkins, 2013)