Where the Water Falls : Paul Ryan

Paul Ryan is an enigmatic figure in Australian art, synonymous with the coastal landscape south of Sydney. Where cool mountain air collides with the salt infused southern winds, an atmospheric shroud blankets the place. There is a primeval feel to the landscape. Mega flora—giant red flowers, alongside indigenous and introduced species—populate the escarpment, reflecting the history of its human habitation. It is moody and mysterious. In the hinterland, creeks cascade over rocky ledges. The water falling to the shoreline meets the continuous motion of crashing waves that scour the jagged rocks. It is the very essence of the sublime. This is Paul Ryan’s lifelong home.

I sometimes wonder if it is possible for people to become the landscape. Storms can come from blue skies, life from ash. Often, beauty can give way to an aesthetic storm. Paul Ryan balances on this precipice. A gifted painter, he creates a palpable eeriness by capturing the landscape as his muse. Ryan—whose swathes of oil paint have the ability to convey everything that the landscape is in a formalist sense—continues to maintain a somewhat calamitous streak that has him perched on the metaphorical edge, challenging the viewer to find comfort in his image.

It is this investigation of the landscape and his own psyche that is at the heart of “Where the Water Falls”. The artist observes that the intensity with which man endeavours to conquer, contain, or harness the land has the very real potential to descend one into the mire of melancholy, or even madness. The writing of Joseph Conrad, re-imagined over the hundred years since the publication of Heart of Darkness, explores madness born of Imperial ambition. It is a rich, thematic reef that the artist has mined for many years. His investigations have challenged and broadened the ongoing conversation that our country is still undertaking.