Liam's work is the evolution of his lifelong habit of doodling. Vast repetition and an innate understanding of colour create a sense of oddity which is both sophisticated and childlike.
Under rows of Norfolk Pines just north of the fortieth parallel in the
teeth of a thrashing sou-wester behind the doors of an instant coffee brick
veneer garage left of the quarter panels of a 71 Valiant Charger Liam toils
night after night in a soft focus glow of red wine teeth on mad geometrics that
threaten to channel the busted frequency signal on a mid-century Rank Arena TV
or the visual equivalent of a Marshall feedback scream.
Lines that invoke the repetition of a scratched LP on a scale that would
induce hand-cramp in lesser artists or those with no answer to what-are-you-doing-dad, turn-that-shit-down and the fraught moment of near perfection just before a small Murphy flings the bolognese.
These lines bring human chaos to heel, captured within the bounds of a
handmade frame buzzed down from doorways benches stud frames school blackboards or stumps.
Inside that narrow timber a punchup barely held in check between ice
cream colour melody and massed formations of line and pattern muscling rhythm
underneath and outside that same timber the expanses of a wall that work to
draw the eye into the music so the feet do the rest.
Subscribe to the Liam Murphy "wish list" to be the first to know when we receive more of her artworks!