While the approach to colour and layering was the mark of a new link in the chain for Liam, the energy pumping through his veins and shooting through his fingertips was fueled by music – an enduring characteristic of the artist’s process. “Music is meditative for me. It’s always playing as I paint. I might be listening to the stuff my old man bought me from the 50s and 60s, or it could be a band I recently saw live, or music I was blasting from my bedroom in my twenties,” he says.
“The names for the pieces in Super Mild are all from a band out in LA. Every one of my paintings now is named after a song and it’s generally what I’m listening to at the time. It’s a bit of a homage – I wish I could play music, so this is my tip of the hat to the artists.”
For Liam, it didn’t start out this way, “Four years ago, I was on the road about to go on a family holiday when I stopped by to show Lucy my work for the first time. I was nervous, but also excited, this could be the making of me. When Lucy saw my paintings, she told me she thought they were beautiful and I immediately relaxed, but only for a second until she asked what they were called. I didn’t have names for them.
I was self-conscious just starting out, I didn’t even sign my paintings, let alone title them. Lucy suggested naming the pieces, so when I jumped back into the car I turned to my kids and said: ‘Remember those paintings that were just in the back? Well, we need to name them’. My son Charlie looked out the window and said, ‘small coffee eighty-cents’ and my daughter Maeve said, ‘deep ocean octopuses’. The other few were equally as ridiculous but perfect.”