Creative Ones - Paint Skank

It’s not often that I’m propositioned to conduct an interview in a motel room, naked. I’ve also never seen an artist pick paint off his own painting during a solo show at the Suter Art Gallery. The latter is the reason why I’m here, fully clothed, and in a candid discussion with Nelson ex-pat James Robinson.

I struggle to define Robinson’s work as painting. It’s got every bit of detritus that Robinson can lay his hands on, from nails to photographs to every bit of skank in between. He disagrees. “Well, it’s not true. It is painting. But that’s only because we think painting has to be representation. I think painting is more about a series of processes and trying to introduce some kind of balance rather than image.”

Avoiding an argument, I further explain what I mean; that ‘painting’ is usually indicative of a two-dimensional picture plane, which Robinson often obliterates. “I never wanted to be a relief painter, but you’re right; I’m stuck between two worlds and actually I do want to make 3D stuff, but it just becomes so impractical.”

His work is a stark contrast to the pristine galleries in which it finds itself. Nicely refreshing, considering how easy it is to make pleasing yet uninteresting work for the masses. “A lot of that stuff is made in a really rough big shed, so it’s going from outsider and cheap to the gallery world. I don’t really like art or the art world [he says, whispering] but I love the human experience.”

At this point, Robinson realises I’m recording. He appears self-conscious, yet still asks, “So why didn’t you take the naked hotel room for the interview process?” We laugh. “I think its part of the Kiwi character. We are shy people, and yet we have this dynamic potential that we want to realise. We’re proud of the Fastest Indian, we’re proud of Peter Jackson, we’re proud of the All Blacks, but will give them a hell of a kicking if they don’t perform well. New Zealander’s are very neurotic. We’re still struggling with our Englishness, so I do see my role as a painter as being a cultural shit-stirrer.”

What I’m not a fan of, is ‘self-indulgent art’: Art that is best left in someone’s diary than put on display on gallery walls. Robinson is quick to respond: “Do you think my work is self-indulgent? Not even a big mural, five metres long!”. “No”, I say… but he won’t hear it. “That’s really nice of you, but I suspect that it’s a hell of a lot of self-indulgent, narcissistic art.”

Like his art, Robinson doesn’t hide behind façade. “The work has become more and more freaky as my life has become more and more normal. I’m not as afraid of people anymore, and yet my work is more gregarious. I’m not sure where it’s going, but it’s nice to realise an aspect of my purpose in another dimension called painting. It sort of is an issue of ego, but if you’ve got a truck, you should deliver things around: There’s no point in having a truck if it’s just sitting in a yard not transporting shit from town to town.”