Adrian Cox

I’m a painter based out of Los Angeles, California, and I use my work to tell stories. Everything that I paint is part of an ongoing personal mythology that I have been crafting for the past nine years. My paintings are populated by hybrid beings that I call Border Creatures. These characters are the protagonists of my work, and their world is a kind of post-human utopia. They live in a heavily forested landscape called the Borderlands and share a symbiotic link with the natural world.
Each exhibition serves as a new chapter in their story. The lore in my paintings is fairly dense at this point, and I don’t necessarily expect viewers to follow the narrative in a linear way. Rather, I want people to sift through these scraps of myth in order to piece together something meaningful. I’m essentially asking viewers to step into the role of an archaeologist.

I’ve been a creative person all of my life, but painting is the medium that allowed me to focus my creative energy and truly commit to understanding my craft. I’m fascinated by the abstract qualities of paint. There’s poetry in the way that a single brushstroke can become infinitely suggestive, or how the transparency of paint can affect a viewer on both a psychological and optical level. For me, the conceptual and material aspects of painting are part of a continuous whole, so my approach to craft tends to evolve alongside my ideas. My practice is a constant journey of material exploration and discovery.

I moved to Los Angeles in 2018. Although I’m still fairly new to the city, I’ve found the art scene here to be truly inspiring. From small artist-run spaces to blue-chip galleries, there’s an incredible variety of work being made and exhibited here. So many cultural niches exist under the umbrella of ‘the Los Angeles art world’. In particular, I enjoy moving between high and low culture, and there seems to be a hunger for both in this city. I draw on everything for inspiration!
It’s also fantastic living in the heart of the film and music industries. Everything adds to the creative landscape of the city, and collaborative opportunities are everywhere. I recently made a tour poster for the band Tool, which allowed me to show my artwork in a radically different context. There’s an intense energy that comes from connecting to these other pockets of creative culture. It all feeds into my studio practice.

Into the Spirit Garden picks up where my last solo exhibition at Corey Helford Gallery, Terra Incognita, left off. In my last show, I introduced antagonistic spirits called Specters. The Specters terrorized the Border Creatures and burned the landscape of the Borderlands wherever they went. Terra Incognita concluded with the Border Creatures triumphing over the Specters and transforming many of them into rainbow-hued spirits. Into the Spirit Garden follows a former Specter’s quest for redemption and spiritual progression. Ultimately, this character is transfigured through the power of empathy and the bonds of community. The show also follows the remaining blue Specters as they continue their quest to conquer and destroy the world of the Border Creatures.

I’ve found myth to be a framework that’s endlessly adaptable. It’s a narrative structure that allows me to process and reflect on our current moment in history, while also making connections to fundamental human desires and flaws. Unlike allegorical painting, mythic painting isn’t moralizing or reductive in any way. It’s a maximalist approach to constructing meaning. This works well for me since I’ve never liked boiling my work down to any single essential element.
I’ve also always had a strong personal interest in science fiction, folklore and world mythology. I think that each of these forms of storytelling satisfies similar human impulses. Myth is one of the means by which we give structure and significance to the world around us. We even tend to think of our own lives in somewhat mythic terms; the stories of our personal struggles and triumphs are a kind of saga to us. More specifically, science fiction tends to be an incredibly aspirational form of mythic storytelling. It’s a way of envisioning the progression or transformation of humanity. It helps us understand our current moment by looking forward. I wouldn't necessarily label my own work as being solidly ‘science fiction’ or ‘myth’ in a classical sense, but I’m fascinated by the function that these kinds of stories serve on a spiritual level.

Certainly, at times. There are moments in the studio when painting becomes an intensely meditative process. But much of the time it’s just labour, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I think that the spiritual act is less in the process itself and more in the aspiration to overcome one’s own limitations. There’s beauty in the undertaking and it satisfies something much more profound than the ego. It’s the drive to create something that could inspire wonder. I view the end result of this as a kind of spiritual communion with a viewer. An exhibition is an opportunity to share a sense of wonder with a complete stranger.

I grew up in Georgia, which is in the deep south of the United States. The city that I’m from has since become more suburban, but it was very rural when I was a child. As you can imagine, this meant that the dominant culture was extremely conservative and hostile to social outsiders. Since one of my mothers is transgender, my family lived closeted as a matter of safety. While I personally identify as straight and cisgender, my understanding of gender and sexuality was at odds with the world outside of my home.
During this time, storytelling was a means of creating a false and heteronormative illusion of my home life. In my paintings, I occasionally make overt symbolic references to these experiences. But I also see them as fundamental to my artistic practice as a whole. These experiences are the foundation upon which my values are built. They’re why I’m driven to make work that beautifies and heroicizes subjects that are undeniably other. I’m still a storyteller. But instead of spinning falsehoods, I’m creating myths in which everything begins and ends with empathy for those unlike ourselves.

Spirit Gardener is a new character in my world. In the narrative of this exhibition, a former Specter embarks on a quest for redemption from their violent past. In a final moment of absolution, this character is transformed into Spirit Gardener, who is a new Border Creature. I wanted this character’s journey to follow the inverse of a typical transcendence narrative. Rather than spiritually progressing by severing earthly connections, this character is redeemed by creating bonds to the world around them. I imagined this as a dissolution of ego through empathy. A softening of the boundaries between an individual and the people and things around them. It’s a fairly specific way of thinking about spiritual progression, but one that felt right for our current moment.

I’ve always felt the need to experiment and take risks in my work, and I’m often uncertain of what the outcome will be. I don’t always have absolute faith in what I’m making, but I’m sure most artists feel the same way. It can sometimes feel like I’m leaping into the void with only a vague idea of how I’m going to land on my feet. When I’m searching for the courage to take this leap, I turn to the things that I love in art history, film, literature, and contemporary art. Even if I’m uncertain of my next move in the studio, I know that I can trust my love for these aspects of culture.
I also rely on the artistic community around me. When I’m trying out new ideas or imagery in my work, I often turn to my peers for feedback. Sometimes this takes the form of a studio visit, and sometimes it’s a text chain with a painter on the opposite side of the country. These exchanges help me understand my own creative impulses and ultimately play a critical role in shaping the work that I make.

Unfortunately, Into the Spirit Garden will no longer be on view when quarantine ends in California. However, I’m already starting work for my next solo exhibition at Corey Helford Gallery, which will open in the autumn of 2021. I also have a solo exhibition coming up this November at Beinart Gallery in Melbourne, Australia.