Words by Wes Glover. Video and photos by Shane Fletcher.

A ghoul-like creature scrawled in black smiles at me, its grin etched in a haze of peachy hues.

A scrawny hand reaches for a fading flower. A bloodied dagger floats next to the repeated mantra ‘SMILE’. This flood of decontextualized symbols in artist Saxon Quinn’s debut European solo show, ‘How Good is a Smile’, confronts me with a frightening conceit: maybe we are not as happy as we pretend to be. So much of popular culture excuses us from ever having to be serious and after gazing at Saxon’s surreal dream of ghastly smiles, I started to imagine a world where we didn’t feel any emotion but happiness. What if underneath that bogus smile sat something much more hollow and soul crushing? What if this totem of smiling faces lets us off from ever having to be vulnerable?

This might not have been the response he was trying to evoke, but Saxon humbly encourages audiences to make their own connections. ‘The show alludes to what maybe makes me happy,’ Saxon tells me, ‘but ultimately it’s up to the viewer to make their own story.’ The canvases look like the ecstatic drawings found in a child's sketchbook at the end of a school year - Nike swooshes contend with basketballs, daggers, checkered racing flags and maniacal laughing faces, the compositions delicately balanced and painted with great attention to the use of negative space. Although his body of work might bring to mind modernist pioneers of abstract art, painters like Joan Miró and Cy Twombly, Saxon is quick to admire trailblazing contemporaries like Richard Culver and Jenny Brosinski, artists who had a big influence on his development.

In our interview, Saxon spoke with a quiet confidence about creating with integrity and the difference between being inspired by another artist and outright plagiarism: ‘I’ve got pieces that someone may see a resemblance to Cy Twombly, but it’s always influenced by his stuff, not a replica.’ His canvases reflect the grit and toughness of the cityscape and his time spent living in Manhattan, an effect he achieves by laying five to ten meters of unprimed canvas on the studio floor for weeks, allowing it to pick up imperfections and wear. The paintings for ‘How Good is a Smile’, which is currently on exhibition at the Galleri Christoffer Egelund until March 22nd, never feel contrived. They are painted in a style that Saxon has developed over several years, refining and reworking his vision while inviting audiences into his childlike revery.

Hey Saxon, thanks for taking the time to chat.

No problem. Many moons ago I had a subscription to the mag. Monster Children has definitely influenced the style of my work. There was always a sort of grit to the Monster Children pages that I loved.

I am curious about where you grew up and how that influenced your work? Did you always paint and draw as a kid?

My mother has been a full time artist ever since I was born. Her name is Dianne Coulter and she makes incredible figurative work. The home we had was an old church and she had this huge studio in it. She’s still building onto it now, it’s like an art piece in itself. My father, who has now passed, was a designer and dabbled in the arts as well. My mum has kept all the sketch pads from when I was as young as five. It’s really influenced my recent exhibitions, this naive approach of wanting to emulate a childish behaviour of drawing and freedom and not being boxed in.

I feel like so much of the joy I personally get from looking at your body of work is seeing symbols removed from their initial context repeat and multiply over multiple canvases. Here I am thinking of your subtle interplay of language, upside down nike swooshes, and cowboy boots. The swoosh has been so closely tied to a brand that we can’t ever free it from any other meaning, or even its original meaning, and yet I have fun trying to liberate it in your canvases. It becomes a character in a story. Is this something you have consciously planned in your canvases, the repetition?

It’s like when you’re a kid, you sort of scribble things and try to get it right. There’s a notebook from when I was young, and some ticks next to a nike swoosh. I think I have spelt NIKE AIR as NICK EIV. But also, some things were unobtainable for me just because of our household income, with a single mother being an artist. I went to a school with a lot of blue-collar families that had the white picket fence and the Holden Commodore. Everyone worked and earned income and the kids could have the shoes they wanted. I probably drew these brands because it meant status and status means I am accepted, people can see that you're more in tune with lyrics and listening to hip hop and that culture.

Seeing the shots of the exhibit in Copenhagen, it definitely feels like you're walking through a child’s scrapbook.

Look at what Andy Warhol was doing by repeating a figure like Marilyn Monroe. Someone might be like ‘oh, this guy is just doing the same thing over and over’. But it’s his style! Each symbol I paint might mean something different, but it’s my catalog. Like a style guide to myself.

Where did the initial inspiration for ‘How Good is a Smile’ come from? Were there any artists you drew from for the exhibition? Any music or books you were reading when the idea was born?

I was listening to a lot of Action Bronson, some Erik Satie, Mike Skinner, Wu-Tang. I love Bronson and his way with words, even outside of his lyrics, the way he talks about food, colours, smells - it’s inspiring and so creative.

In terms of painters I didn’t reference anything in particular for the body of work, but certainly a few painters have had a big influence on my development and confidence. Artists from the past like Cy Twombly and Joan Miro. I love Maria Pratts, Jenny Brosinski, James Drinkwater, Sebastian Helling, Rob Ober, David Larwill, and Richard Culver. What I love about Richie is you could see him sticking his middle finger up to the art industry. It’s so risky and I admire that.

It’s funny, I once heard this guy say ‘I can’t believe people pay for this’ about my work.’ The work evoked such a strong negative emotion for them to say how much they hated it. I took it as a compliment. Wasn’t it Picasso who said that it took him four years to paint like Raphael and a lifetime to paint like a child?

It seems like authenticity was a big part of ‘How Good is a Smile’. How did you find a form of expression that feels authentic?

I recently saw sponsored post of an artist on Instagram who has clearly plagiarized another young artist who is currently blowing up. They’re both from the same city and the artist copying has not tried to differentiate his style whatsoever, even down to the stylistic posts on Instagram, it’s too close for comfort. There’s no authenticity or individuality to the work. He has seen that the other artist is doing well and thinks if he copies it he will blow up too. Anyone in the art world will see the style has been ripped off, and that’s when he will lose credibility.

I don’t think there's anything wrong with using other artists (present or past) as inspiration, it’s when the authentic personal development becomes tarnished by trying to look and emulate others. I’ve got pieces that someone may see a resemblance to Cy Twombly, but it’s always influenced by his stuff, not a replica… It’s almost like the original muse should see it as a compliment, a tip of the hat by the new artist.

What is your favourite piece in the exhibit, or what canvas speaks to you the most?

 The artwork I am drawn to the most from the exhibition is the main piece, ‘How Good is a Smile.’ It’s my favorite for a number of reasons, the composition and how it plays with seemingly empty areas. There are also a number of motifs within the work that tie in different parts of my life - the heat press checkers and wording pay homage to my earlier days of clothing design and print making. The basketball, like in many of my works, represents friendship, the NY logo tips the hat to my time living in NYC and what kicked me in the ass to begin painting. While I was living in Manhattan and Brooklyn I’d cruise around by foot a lot of the time, heading into galleries. On these walks I’d see the age, grit and wear of the cityscape, it inspired me to start working in cement.

I also love the age of the canvas base, this process and finished step plays into the work as much if not more than the markings and motifs. I generally lay 5-10 meters of unprimed canvas on the studio floor for a minimum of two weeks which allows the canvas to pick up all the imperfections that are passed by during the time. The longer on the studio floor the better.

What advice would you give to young, emerging artists?

I would say to be persistent and almost relentlessly annoying on social media and Instagram. I think that attitude has paid off for me. I would hit up a gallery in 2021 and not get a reply. Then I would hit them again at the end of the year and they might read my message. In 2022, when I had a few more shows, they replied. And in December last year I ended up getting a gig in London. That was like a three-year burn of me constantly harassing them. I could have easily written them off and thought they weren’t interested.

It’s such a funny industry where they don't take unsolicited submissions or you walk into a gallery and it's really cold and people don’t look you in the eyes. It can be quite confronting. So you can’t shy away from trying to get your work in front of people just because you think that’s not what they want. Be persistent and begin by painting authentically.

Keep up to date with Saxon at saxonjjquinn.com