A majority of the interviews/articles/reviews re: Ian Pyper make a point to state that Mr. Pyper is a tad on the laconic side. I have been in communiqué with the artist on numerous occasions and have never found him wanting for dialogue. No, he doesn’t ramble as much as I do, but then why does he need to? Ian Pyper’s quite prolific art speaks for him and that art is one of relentless communication.
In this , Ian is a kindred spirit in the realm of outsider art, brut , visionary , fringe , primitive, or whatever term one wishes to apply in the those (often) tiresome blanks. Regardless of what term one applies, Ian Pyper simply has a voice all his own.
Ian and other unconventional artists have been taking the art world by storm over the last few years and there is a reason for that. The academic art school route has gone stale, becoming decorative and/or hopelessly commercial, appeasing to either dishonest aesthetics or consumerism. Ian, and like-minded artists have defiantly grinded the “steamroller blues”, utilizing their unique voices: gallery themes, and marketing strategies be damned.
Ian Pyper’s work is certainly open to various interpretations. For me, his work bespeaks a visual world that blows in from the winds of the most ancient of ancients, and flows outward to a delightfully strange, ambiguous , music-filled future. Pyper world is one that is kin to the Italian Futurists , the surreal beatniks, post-serial music, and two-fisted, post-modern spirituality. Clearly, this is an intensely personal vision which, wisely, Ian does not spell out for the viewer , but his world-view optimism seeps through all his idiosyncratic images of aliens, cave creatures, Grand Inquisitors, absurd two-headed saints, crucifixions, icons, God angels, God’s eye, God’s hand, primitive masks, death heads, pyramids, fish, birds, scorpions, the wild west, tanks, apocalyptic aeroplanes, helicopters, spaceships, scenes of intergalactic wars, totem poles, and the Holy Trinity as you never saw it depicted in church.
I can’t quite put my finger on Ian Pyper , and I prefer it that way. However, I did notice that before I had sat down to write this, I had just revisited Palazzeschi’s “Man of Smoke”, and Morton Subotnick’s electronic (and fun) bleepy composition, “Silvery Apples of the Moon.” Initially, it was a subliminal connection, but after revisiting Ian’s work I realized I had just left these similar worlds before crossing into his. It was a good, familiar feeling.