Timothy Lai

Painted Syncopation

Timothy Lai's paintings are constructed like a dream. While looking at them, I often find myself quite transfixed with the idea that faces sort of drift in and out of the works, that the animals seem to possess a deep clarity, while humans merge in and out of focus. It seems apt that the title of Lai's last solo show at Josh Lilley's in London was Towards a Blue Room, a nod to Chet Baker, who, too, was able to create notes that seemed to drift and vanish like cigarette smoke in the night. You can hear these paintings but can't quite recognize their origins.

There is something in the idea of covered faces, viewed from behind, and then bared looking back, as adjacent figures embrace, then find themselves alone and trying to hide. The domestic settings in each painting create a narrative of how it is to live with someone, how to interact, and how to hide in one's own space while also sharing it. I think this is where the jazz reference enters, like the harmony of trumpet, bass, piano and drum, each with their own space to roam but connected to a whole sound. The characters here are themselves, individuals who make something greater by virtue of their relation to each other.

Charles Moore: I'd like to start with getting to know a little bit about where you're originally from. You were born in Malaysia?

Timothy Lai: Yes. I was born in Kota Bharu, in the state of Kelantan, to the northeast of Peninsular Malaysia. We lived about 45 minutes from the border of Thailand.

And it's where you spent most of your life?