rob lynch: spoonbill
I bring a sketchbook to the cinema.
I drive with a Playskool tape recorder.
I sleep next to a stack of Post-it notes.
I record the strange little enigmas that capture my attention as I go through my days. Those notes become food for paintings that point to an absurd, beautiful existence. I wanted this recent batch of paintings to be filled with a curious mix of delightful highs and heavy lows. I want viewers to chuckle and then stare quietly. I don’t want my works to be preachy. In fact, I’m happiest with a painting when it takes on a life of its own and baffles me. I like to see them over the years and notice my reaction change. I like to gaze at them and wonder, almost like “people watching.”
I like the ridiculous.
I like the bittersweet.
I like the ambiguous.
My decisions as a painter are guided by many quotes that I’ve collected during my education. I always liked Jasper Johns’ idea, “An artist works from rather stupid impulses and then the work is used,” and Robert Rauschenberg’s “If the work can’t be as fresh and as strange as everything that is going on around you, then it is false.”
Rob Lynch
Castellani Museum Statement
2007