Fool’s Paradise Lost – Pop surrealism painting by Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2022

The idea of “loss” and “the Fool” often percolate up in my work. The nature of loss is a pretty straight-forward concept — one that everyone can relate to. The Fool on the other hand is a concept that we impulsively project onto the “other” and avoid associating it with “the self”.

The actual truth is we all do foolish things, have foolish thoughts put value on meaningless things. In essence, we reject the fool, but recognise the Fool in ourselves — unless living in a delusional world of denial.

My portrayal of the Fool is a stereotype. A goofy innocent, oblivious of the dire nature of his situation, grasping in a futile attempt to preserve things he values — things that are empty and hollow. He wears the Dunce cap, just to formally label him in case there is any confusion in an attempt to make the figurative into the literal.

The Fool longs for love, acceptance, power, and wealth, but all these things are in eminent peril or were mere illusion to start with. His soul mate is a candy apple headed doll, which brings the “Paradise Lost” component of the title into the painting. In John Milton’s epic poem, the subject of Adam and Eve being tempted by Satan and their expulsion from “paradise” is prominently explored. In the painting, the doll-wife figure is the forbidden fruit incarnate. She has already been partaken of, so the sin has been committed and she is now just evidence of the Fool’s guilt.

In his other hand is a mock sceptre, a symbol of power but a powerless candy substitute. Inside is a crown which is bait for the Fool’s ego, an aspiration to fulfil his longing for prestige and power. Candy is a frivolous and pleasure centred treat. It echoes his pointless, pleasure driven desire for elevating his position. Junk food for his empty soul.

An equally empty and ephemeral balloon ironically expresses his disdain of the fool as he passes overhead. The balloon’s existence is always in peril and its imminent demise foreshadows the impending doom of the Fool.

The threats that impinge on the Fool come from above and below. Overhead a ball of fire from the heavens hurtles gleefully toward the Fool, while below a resourceful devil claws away at the foundation supporting the completely oblivious Fool. Oblivion being a key condition of a foolish and irresponsible outlook on life.

An apparition of a god-like entity looms in the clouds, overseeing the sins of the Fool. If God does not play with dice, at least he plays games with the Fool. The landscape is a crumbling board game with player markers making their way through their existence. Above, a laughing die delights in the scene below, his contribution of chance outcomes determines the fate of the players.

Below the die a daring paper doll attempts to eat fire in an absurd act of self-destruction. This could parallel any self-destructive and foolish behaviour that we as humans engage in for whatever reason, ultimately ending our chance at Paradise. The paper doll sits on a slowly draining snow globe, a souvenir of paradise in decay, reinforcing the theme of this Pop Surrealism painting. A crumbling column opposite also prepares to topple, its heyday long past.

To add to the sense that things are deeply wrong, a sheep plays tug-of-war with a spear of broccoli over a piece of meat. The incongruent behaviour of both characters (one a vegetable, the other a vegetarian) may be a way of me commenting on the topsy-turvy world we live in.

To the right side of the painting a thuggish frog wields a club threateningly at the Fool. It appears he has already smashed his way into the Fool’s safe as his fortune trickles away. A fool and his money…

A slice of mouldy bread, which is also jargon for money, angrily pushes a clock (time) towards the edge of the cliff. In essence the clock foretells that the Fool’s time is up and as the die (death) falls off the edge, the game is over…

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2022

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Index of paintings by Stephen Gibb 2015 2014 2013 2012 2011 2010 2009

2022 paintings
I imagine a world where the visually rich language of fairy tales and nursery rhymes extends into adulthood. The traditional nature of this kind storytelling is best presented with visual aids; simple, straightforward text accompanied by fantastic illustrations. In our culture, this is a conventional part of our collective upbringing and experience. These stories often convey lessons, which are coded in familiar, symbolic language, and are likely where we first encounter metaphor and allegory.

We carry these symbolic codes into adulthood—like wolf equals bad, pig equals good. The narratives I deliver in my paintings utilize this common trove of visual references; however with more mature and timely messages.

The intertwined relationship between language and image has always guided me in constructing my artwork—using visual puns, symbolic themes and literal translations from words into paintings. Often the compositions and assemblies of characters seem to clash in a surreal incongruence, but on some level, they relate by a verbal association or some idiomatic commonality. My aim is to exploit these visual conventions and present something visually arousing with dynamic color and compelling content.

The level of “payoff” sophistication that the viewer “gets” from the paintings is relative to their own personal experience and history. There may be universal themes revealed, and there may be idiosyncratic dead ends. There is no correct reading of the images other than what the viewer extracts on their own. Even my opinion and the depth of what they mean to me may change from day to day.

Stephen Gibb lives and works in the small town of Amherstburg, in southern Ontario, Canada and maintains a second studio in Windsor. He earned a B.F.A. in visual arts from the University of Windsor and is currently represented by the St. Germain gallery in Toronto. Among the cities he has exhibited in are San Diego, Sacramento, and Hollywood— the hotbed of California’s Lowbrow and Pop Surrealism community. His work is collected around the globe and has gained widening interest since working on the album art for hip hop artist Trippie Redd.

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2021

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2021 paintings
1. What does your art mean to you?
I feel like that is like asking “What does your face mean to you?” It’s like a part of me that I can’t escape, that I’ve accepted, become accustomed to and that identifies me to those around me.
2. What’s your background?
Canadian—went to art school at the University of Windsor
3. What does your artwork aim to say?
My artwork says that I have a lot of questions and thoughts about humans and aims to say that you should too.
4. Who are your biggest influences?
The indelible influences I always tap into are the freedom and madness of surrealism, the humour and vibe of Mad magazine and cartoons, the hyperbolic insanity of hot rod artist Big Daddy Roth, the irony and morality of the (original) Twilight Zone, the crazy colour and carefree composition of psychedelic art, the chaos and wonder of Bosh and Bruegel and the tidy logic and visual storytelling of Norman Rockwell.
5. Which current artworld trends are you following?
Are there any trends? I feel like anything goes any more and that doesn’t seem like much of a trend. I remain aware and cognizant of things unfolding in the artworld but can’t say I really follow anything.

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Girl Eats Sun: Background story to the artwork for Hope Tala

I was contacted in the summer of 2020 to work with Hope Tala on creating some album art for her EP Girl Eats Sun.

When I asked if she was the “girl” in the title, she confirmed my suspicion and I knew I had to incorporate a portrait of her into the artwork.

She gave me a list of song titles — Girl Eats Sun, All My Girls Like To Fight, Crazy, Drugstore, Easy To Love Me, Mulholland and Cherries. I though, why not use these titles as the source for the imagery on the cover as well. So each song title became symbolically represented and combined with the image of Hope herself. Each title conjured a rich image in my mind that fit perfectly with my quirky way of painting in my pop surrealism style. I worked up a rough sketch that blended all the seperate images into one big scene of craziness.

I got Hope’s blessings on my sketch and I jumped into the painting with both feet. Everything came together into one big, bright unified image—reminiscent of psychedelic art from the 1960s. The exaggerated colour and playful characters help give the painting an undeniable sense of crazy fun.

I’ll let you figure out the rest for yourself.

Interview in Euphoria

Interview in House of Solo

Hope Tala on Twitter

Hope Tala on Instagram

Stephen Gibb on Instagram

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Last Days Of the Plague — Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2020

The long history of art relating to plague can be traced from medieval times and the likes of Hieronymus Bosch to the irreverent doodling of pop surrealism art

After resisting the sort of automatic response that the year 2020 prompted—mainly as a result of the pandemic crisis of Covid-19, I finally relented.

There is only so much one can take with the onslaught of media and the reports that propagate fear and disseminate ignorance before you start to manifest a reaction. It was with fear and ignorance that this painting took root.

Basing the initial thoughts around the centrally positioned “troll under the bridge” I thought I could divide the painting into two halves, where the left represented fear and the right represented ignorance but that was just the launch pad.

A painting seldom blossoms from the core concept into a fully realised representation of that concept. It often transforms into something else as the idea incubates and I ponder the elements of the composition. This painting represents a prime example of that kind of deviation from the original whim—a transformation into something more ambitious with a broader scope of themes.

As well as the initial themes of ignorance and fear, the image now includes commentary on superstition, plague, decay, pollution, contamination and irresponsibility. Time to apply my brand of pop surrealism art to the painting

Breaking down the images

Safe as houses: What could be safer than isolation in your own home? The thing is, as we learned in 2020, you still need to interact with outsiders in the society and culture we have created. Bringing outside threat into the home is a concern and the fearful–looking house and house ablaze symbolizes that fear.

Protection: The prophylactic use of masks as protection from the virus is echoed in the plague-doctor crow and the deep-sea diving suit, both fearful enough to wear protective clothing but still threatened by contamination. The crow, and diver being attacked by the piranha were two of the first and original ideas. The crow tries to reinforce the crumbling wall oblivious to the poison gas dancing around his feet. The sun masks the smell of decay with a clothespin but the ineffective defence is futile against the underlying factor present in the “plague”.

The Plague: I wanted to represent the “plague” as a color and the antifreeze green or Mountain Dew yellow seemed perfect to symbolize it. Originally the source was to be from the troll, oozing from his nose and mouth, contaminating the water and by extension into the food and drink of the townspeople and leaching into the ecosystem as well. The locust, a symbol of plague, was an afterthought but was needed to balance the composition (as were the pumpkin, the bubbles and the Soviet-era missile)

I only drink when I’m drunk: The “villagers” are oblivious to the threats around them and they represent the ignorant aspect of my original concept. They drink to intoxication, without regard to what it is they are drinking and without any effort to protect themselves or others by wearing masks or socially distancing. This brash flouting of common sense leads to more contamination and perpetuates the vicious circle.

Always after me lucky charms: Ignorance can give birth to superstition. During the 17th century it was believed that plague was propagated by putrid air and that a beak-like mask filled with herbs, straw, and spices would offer protection—hence my plague-doctor crow. It was also believed that onions could ward off the infection!

It’s a gas: Playing off the miasma theory of plague propagation I used a poison gas canister attached to the locust to represent the idea of the plague being present in the air. Not only that but it is manifesting itself as a creepy clown that looms threateningly over the village. The mournful tree trunk also oozes a noxious gas that floats into the clouds, only to condense and return as a toxic raindrop.

Motherland of invention: Using the decaying Soviet-era missile was not a political statement. Being from the West, the threat during the Cold War was always the Soviet Union, so showing a relic from that era was reflexive. The idea of a neglected nuclear missile, rotting and contaminating the environment just seemed to fit with the vibe of the painting and as stated above, I needed something to compositionally balance the painting there.

Let’s get medieval: Our notion of plague often harken back to the Black Death and the stories that spring from that era. I wanted a little nod to that notion and the wooden cart, stone wall and cobblestones seemed to give the painting some medieval flavour.

I am the eggman: Yes, that’s me, recovering from a broken ankle while I painted this. I am vulnerable and frail as Humpty Dumpty, trying to ward off the plague by distancing myself from human contact (even further than usual).

Pop Surrealism Art: Yeah I know, WTF does that mean? It means people search the web for pop surrealism art and that ultimately brings them to me…

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More about Stephen Gibb:

• Lowbrow Pop Surrealism Exhibit – Gag Me With a Toon

• Banksy Exhibit

• More On Pop Surrealism

• Trippie Redd Album Cover

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“Happy!” — Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2020

The idea behind this painting was to portray sheer joy and happiness sloughing off the evil and darkness of the world like a snake sheds its skin. However, I wanted to depict the happiness in an artificial surrounding (fake trees, fake clouds, fake graphic sunburst) to suggest that sometimes happiness is an illusion. Contrasting the cartoon aspects with more realistic depictions of trees and clouds (at the edges) was my way of acknowledging the very real presence of darkness and evil in people’s lives. Part of the challenge of the painting was to attempt to have the happy face in full illumination and push everything else into a more subdued shadow.

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Biography
Stephen Gibb is a Canadian artist and works in the small town of Amherstburg, in southern Ontario, and maintains a second studio in Windsor. He has a B.F.A. in visual arts from the University of Windsor and is currently represented by the St. Germain gallery in Toronto. His brand of Canadian Pop Surrealism is collected around the globe and has gained widening interest since working on the album art for hip hop artist Trippie Redd.

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Stephen Gibb: Official Website

St. Germain Gallery

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“Keeping it Together, Walking on Eggshells” — Surrealism painting by Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2019

Keeping it Together, Walking on Eggshells” — Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2019

In a world where we have to mind our Ps and Qs, more and more, the notion of political correctness inspired this very literal translation of walking on eggshells (being careful to not offend or do something wrong).

My little monkey on the left is fast-tracking his evolution with some human juice but is he prepared for the balancing act of being human—trying to keep it all together, physically and mentally. Confused, disoriented and without caution the human trundles onward, with no way back and no way to retrace his steps, he navigates the perilous landscape.

I laugh at the Sun in headgear, the egg protecting himself with an eggbeater and the pylon on the precipice. Sometimes the humour just presents itself and I can’t resist. I find that dollops of levity can balance out the serious nature of some of the messages.

The traveller walks in confusion, barely holding his liquefying head from rupture unaware of the solution (the single combination lock) that hovers within reach. All around the landscape crumbles and the very thing that sustains him (bread) self immolates in a futile attempt to mark his passing and leave a trail to return on. Of course the crow and his foreboding symbolism, eats the crumbs to obliterate the path of return.

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See article in Surrealism Today

* Surrealism painting is a dumb term that I would not normally use but may help a search engine land you on this posting.

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While pondering a fun house setting for a painting, I became aware that the whole reason for a fun house is to artificially induce fear in the patron. It became clear that fear or phobias would then become the central theme to the painting. Taking a smattering of common phobias and integrating them into my surreal art, here is the result:

“Fun House of Phobias” — Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel 2019

Meditation on how fear shapes our lives

Fear fills us with anxiety.
It makes us avoid situations and it can make us seek out situations.
It forces us to overpay for things we don’t need.
It urges us buy cheap knockoffs.
It suffocates us in our inadequacies.
It erodes our status and drives our aspirations.
It ruins relationships and drowns us in paranoia.
It stokes the fires of jealousy.
It keeps us guarded and incapable of contact.
It waits for us at night.
It hides at the bus stop, dark alley, and foreboding basement.
It lurks behind the strangers face.
It slinks in the shadows of the unknown.
It watches us as we sleep.
It shows us what is wrong with the world.
It crushes us with what we see in ourselves.
It contaminates every uncertainty.
It rationalizes our irrationality.
It confuses our affirmations.
It makes us doubt the truth.
It dumbs us down and puffs us up.
It lies out loud and inside our heads.
It guides our thoughts and haunts our dreams.
It disrupts the peace with blunt force.
It looms like a dark cloud above us.
It screams on the dark pier of surreal art.
It is chronic and unrelenting.
It removes our calm and unsettles the waters.
It hints at the onset of madness.
It overthrows the balance.
It leads us to the edge.
It threatens us with doom.
It grips us like the icy hands of death.

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2020

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Index of paintings by Stephen Gibb 2015 2014 2013 2012 2011 2010 2009

Stephen Gibb – Artist Statement
My artwork weaves an eclectic tapestry of cultural and social influences. At one moment it may make a single-punch-line commentary on pop culture, while the next it may construct a complex and playful panorama probing into the outer perimeters of human nature.

It is often categorized as pop surrealism but I prefer to tag it “Bubblegum Surrealism”—a kind of existential, editorial-cartoon realism—just because it sounds more intelligent, pretentious and funny at the same time. The work holds a certain reverence and faithfulness to mimicking reality but leans far enough away to fall in the shadow of the “uncanny valley”—that uneasy place where the mind is unsettled by what looks like something real but couldn’t possibly be. It is in this realm, theoretically, that the mind’s gamma waves are super-stimulated and brain activity resembles exploding fireworks. I resolve that this accounts for the compelling nature of my work. Viewers are confronted with a mind storm of mental activity to sort through and by confronting what they see with what they think, their encounter takes on a very personal experience. We are all wired differently.

My medium of choice is a traditional deployment of oil paint using time-tested painting techniques such as glazing and the occasional dalliance into chiaroscuro. The richness achieved by layers and layers of thinned oil paint on wood panels always adds an interesting luminous vitality to the final piece.

When constructing a painting, I often let a core image or concept subliminally dictate to me as to how the composition will manifest itself. Colours and characters are interwoven into a psychological landscape where the subject’s ambiguity speaks both in muted and clear tones to those who are willing to confront them head on. Nothing is written in stone, nothing is absolute except the thirst to explore ideas.

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Words that follow me around like wilful shadows, playfully darting about in the periphery of my mind’s eye. Until something better comes along I guess I will reluctantly tolerate them (even if “surrealism art” makes me grind my teeth). I won’t let them define me but I will let them rattle around in their container until they can somehow break free.

To me, labels like this are like subtle haunts. Lurking just at the perimeter of thought’s reach, within the range of off-stage prompts and directions, barely at the threshold of awareness. More like faded scar tissue than an emblazoned crest worn proudly, labels and brands are like familiar clichés. They convey a message in basic, familiar terms but may not be very accurate. Yet what is their impact? Does the label beget the art?

I often wonder about people whose work becomes bigger than themselves and if their “brand” then, in turn, informs their decisions. Or does the creator deny the influence of past success (or suppress it) to the point where the delusion is that we are not co-dependant of our previous creations. I don’t know, but sometimes I think about things like this.

Every once in a while I take on a project that just seems like an exercise in biting off more than I can chew. It’s a way of testing the walls of my container or maybe redefining the limits.

“The Empty Visual Discourse of a Reluctant Pop Surrealist” — Stephen Gibb, 42″ x 48″, oil on panel, 2019

With the painting “The Empty Visual Discourse of a Reluctant Pop Surrealist” 42″ x 48″, oil on panel, 2019, I attempted one of the largest painting I’ve ever done while stuffing it with content relevant to the themes of consumerism and emptiness. Originally conceived as a “proposed” painting for an exhibit (which I was consequently rejected from) it continues a commentary so prevalent in my body of work that it could almost be regarded as an “exemplary” Stephen Gibb painting.

Starting with the underlying, hidden decay at the top, which is concealed by the artifice of the commercial world of marketing, advertising and product, the painting illustrates the “consumer” in a feeding frenzy, consuming the last drops of what is available to him. Like some kind of fantastical digestive tract we follow the course of the consumption into the hollow container below, where motifs of “emptiness” echo the nature of the unfulfilling consumer/marketer contract—the unsatisfying delivery of what was promised.

Just as a label promises a certain expectation it can often under-deliver. The final irony being that my painting under-delivered to the curator of the exhibit, and was thus rejected. Funny how life imitates art…

I’m an artist not a writer, so feast on the art and let me eat my words.

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