Some describe designs like the ornamentation of a Norman arch, a dog tooth moulding, ramparts of a walled city or an aerial view of a star fort. Other comparisons bear similarity to Widmanstätten patterns, where figures of long nickel–iron crystals are found in meteorites. It also resembles battle ships camouflaged with ‘dazzle painting’ ablaze with crystal faced primary colours that zig zag around cracked and molten seas of pattern. Burning with artificial intensity these ‘jazz’ visions, which occur without sight, are illuminated by inner light. It is thought that these tessellated fractals are perhaps mirroring the inner architure of the human brain itself and may go some way to explain the source of the oldest human marks we know of, perceived now as sacred.

The ancient art of divination suggests a deliberate practice of cultivating symbolic imagery and using our primal faculties of intuition and imagination to derive some meaning from transient visual phenomena. Hallucinatory states achieved in the ritual practices of early humans are believed by some researchers to have been mentally projected and traced onto complex relief structures like the early cave wall. The surface of which exudes its own suggestive, poetic sensibility that is likely to act as a stimulus for mediumistic experiences. From such beginnings, a wall of images was built into our abstract consciousness, a base of archetypal symbols that held societal significance.

My approach to painting is to define a sense of illumination. Often my work is punctuated by pockets of primary colour. The glowing orb of the sky, a circle can be an eye or a sun, a bowl of suns or a head of eyes. A counterpoint, a starting place and a face. Interestingly it is the sun and the mandala that often provide stimulus for a childs first drawings of humans. The formation of which begins from the core and radiates out into peripheral limbs. This kind of contemplation may be tightly interrelated with explorative and playful behavior where intention is to understand by looking at the start of things, and so awareness must follow action. Naivety draws out playful lines of thinking, a clarity of vision that is often blinded by experience. The character of painting is atypical to logical reasoning and like any good conversation it comes in the form of contrasts. Questions and marks merely help one remember parts of a bigger picture.

Aged five, my drawings were abstract essences of what I knew rather than realistic depictions of what I saw. I would then title these works with absolute certainty: Footsteps on a beach with a shark approaching; The country where Sam does live; A man with ears who walks about on his knees and those are spectacles; Plan for Helen’s Digger; Spray tractor with watering machine and crossbones; Crocodile eating all the numbers; Switch and wiring plan; Hotwire; We don’t eat pigs; Crocodile with water in his rucksack; A picture of Charlie that pecked me, he wanted to go on my back; Another dog weed in our house; Daisy inside poppy’s tummy; Birthday party; A man with cobwebs on his nose; Tractor with acrobat; Helen’s grandad’s big wheel; Dangerous mountains; Horsemarks; Hedgehog fell into our shit bucket; Dinosaur and baby; Steps and a church or Joan’s new window.

There is a defining place in Vietnam where humid and dense green pinnacles of mountain pop-up and swelter amongst flat crop plains tethered to an oily blue sky. One of the mountains contains ‘Paradise Cave’ which is of vast proportions, artificially lit and big enough for a Boeing 747 to fly through the heart of it. A blanket of life sizzles all the way up to a hidden hobbit sized entrance. Plummeting temperature ensues when following a few raggedy steps inside, then the vista opens out and literally takes your breath away. The sense of scale reverberates right through you, from the ground up, right through your feet, hitting the roof of the skull. There is a proportion of magical realism within this spectacle. A cathedral contained within a mountain, the floor and the ceiling reaching out to one another in arms of stalagmites and stalactites. The lighting rakes across the surface as if chipping away at the texture of deep, buried, time and geology.

You are dancing with the shadows inside your head and filled with a sublime sense of magnitude and insignificance in a place where the parameters of space can be felt as if it were a tangible part of your own body.

My works harbour these cave-light-arcade experiences as symbolic counterpoints but also share similar dense and chunky motifs of what I call ‘seilschaft’ (a climbing term for rope-team). It feels counter-intuitive to paint with white over light ground but denying the clarity of contrast can actually help to free up grand gestures. Half visible, this undercoat cures in the sun just long enough to gain tack. Upon which the tar-like surface is dressed with dry pigment forming a smooth bond which is burnished like leather. This process covers entire surfaces of some paintings. In a balance to define positive and negative space I then carve, scrape and lift out slabs of action from favourite memories and two-faced drawings; a flaming sun wheeled monster truck upside down as a bowl of suns, the combined tin-man-icarus-space-car, a praying mantis which attacked the camera on the steps to the archaeological site of Ancient Olympia, and two jealous curs haunched on their hind quarters in an intense stand-off.

The experience in ‘Arcade Laundry’ was the trigger that’s positioned my painting practice on a ‘zebra crossing’ like a belay between four visual pinnacles. A progressive link between the arcade, the scintillating scotoma, altered states of consciousness, the mountain cave and the essence of child’s drawing.

Arthur Lanyon, 2020