About the Artist 2010
My name is Eric Henshall.
I live in North Melbourne with my cat, Swivel, and my incrediblewonderfulperfectdeliciousfantasticNottomofBourkeic girlfriend, Monique.
I’ve been a full-time, fully-qualified(?!) artist for about eight years now and have been supporting myself through the proceeds of it for six of them – of which I am pretty proud, although the living is by no means extravagant. Indeed, we go so far as to bake our own bread. Not that I really see that sort of thing as a sacrifice.
Having said that, I’m very nearly 29 years old, which is just a flinch off 30, and I’m tired of eating lentils.
I make my own clothes.
I’m quite the nerd and refuse to grow up, I spend at least one day a week playing make believe, sometimes moving toy soldiers around miniature landscapes.
I like to drink and smoke.
I have a miraculously supportive family and I like to think my friends are the best of all possible friends, though to be honest I should probably call them more often than I do.
I like long walks along the beach and a good sense of humour is imperative. Ooh, and curling up in front of a cozy fireplace with M. and a quiet game of Twister.
Dahl and Red Dwarf.
ERIC HENSHALL, May 2010.
What I see as willfully obtuse art and an unhealthy focus upon theory and pure novelty, had left me convinced that what we do is of immeasurably lesser socio-cultural value than music, literature, poetry, film, comics or video games. That basically, if we do anything of value, it can be better done in some other form. Then...
... During a meandering drive through the Mississippi Delta with my father, I was starved of visual art. After some time we hit upon New Orleans and its crop of galleries. I had not realized how much I missed paintings. The sheer riot of colour was air-conditioning in mid-summer. And I realized that visual art can do something no other form can - it can thrill us in a gentle and undemanding way that is all its own. It exists forever in its own moment, not needing a performer, not needing an audience, not needing a projector. It exists permanently and without interruption, waiting for the lucky chance that the right people will see it at the right time. And then it pounces. It...
... Struck me that no other form could do this. All other art exists in time (at least ‘more fully' in time), lasts only so long as it is played, performed, projected. Even books have endings. And other forms require some investment as one wants to see the film from the start, hear the song from the start. Visual art doesn't demand this. It is self-contained. ... It's just a thought - it's helpful for me.