Adrian Hobbs is a Sydney based emerging artist. After completing a Master’s degree in Fine Arts at Sydney College of the Arts in 2015 he has been painting full time. To date he has been included in many group shows around Sydney and has presented 3 solo exhibitions in both commercial and institutional galleries. Also Known As is his 4th solo exhibition. Hobbs’ works are held in private collections throughout Australia as well as in the United States, England and France.
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In the late 20th century the long history that had seen Painting made the triumph of artistry also saw it rightfully dumped by the academy and left to fend on its own. It needed to fall from its pedestal, enter the common fray to which all the arts were subject, and it needed to prove its worth. We know that now.
The initial shock of its dramatic fall lead many to speculate on its certain demise down there on the open playing field. There was no way it could endure they thought, there was no way it could last without the support it had enjoyed and been privileged by for centuries. To them it was a spoilt little shit that couldn’t face the real world, and perhaps it really was. A few even went so far to claim it had in fact died in the fall and this claim was vehemently and loudly echoed; “Painting is dead” they said, and a hell of a lot of people believed them.
However, it was over 150 years ago a painter named Paul Delaroche first made that call and still no death certificate has been produced. There are some who still claim it but they do so with less confidence and with fewer people listening. And Painting, the little spoilt shit that was booted from the institution for both seeking and receiving far too much attention has in fact prevailed. It adapted to its new conditions, and adapted very well. It could almost be said that what might’ve seemed a curse was a blessing, and what was thought to be an end was simply a new beginning.
The truth is Painting isn’t a spoilt little shit anymore but now a robust and genderless teen whose sense of self has grown through the change. Rather than lament its altered circumstance it shrugged off the heavy, ornate robes it wore for centuries and the figure that lay shrouded beneath now walks its own path unfettered.“I am an object” it says, “I am both surface and depth. I am an interval, an illusion, an elastic craft. I am incomplete, always forming - I am not fixed. I am part of something much bigger than myself, something wild and unpredictable. I am change. I amnew.”
Perhaps through confronting its own death Painting has found the reason to grow into a more flexible and worldly figure, unrestrained by the frames that enclosed it. It saw its shortcomings and wanted to be better than them. Maybe now its wise to and wary of those who tried to make it into something it is not, the ones who for centuries housed Painting in their throne rooms and claimed it the work of this thing they call divine. Painting however knows it doesn’t need them anymore. Not now, not in the least. It has surpassed them, lost as they are, or asleep, in their fortresses made of self-serving syllogisms.
The truth is that Painting now thrives in the abundant becoming of its many names and many guises. Yet to be counted, also known as....
Images by Document Photography