
'Don't Change, Beautiful Boy',
is a response to a letter I wrote my adult self when I was a boy.
It represents how I have
been feeling about being an artist lately, as I delve into new and vulnerable
territory with my work. It’s a quiet response, a love letter, to that little
boy to not change, to continue to navigate my practice and life trusting my
intuition following my instincts and accepting the process.
The approach I've taken
is stripped back. Countless moments, conversations, and decisions that led me
towards what I thought was the right path, only to realise at the last moment
that I needed to let go and allow the process to guide me, often in unexpected
directions.
I began by collecting
materials and objects, creating samples, and making purely abstract studies for
months. Trying to realise an idea in my head about work I have wanted to make
for years. Eventually, it became evident that, like all the work I create, I'm
not directly making paintings. Instead, I'm making objects that manipulate
light, and that's how I have been viewing painting itself all along.
There were various
elements that needed to come together, and I had to relinquish some control to
see where the work would take me. The intended destination of the combining
elements changed, as did the orientation, and mode of delivery, even on the day
of documentation. Anything that reminded me of a direct reference was removed.
Any time I was stuck, I trusted my intuition and followed the younger me inside.
As these works took
shape, their material language defined them. They change every angle you looked
at them. Some parts obscured, some parts to look through. Some things to
notice, some things to hold on to. Opening myself to see things from a different
perspective.
Never growing up, like my
sister told me.







The works in ‘Don’t Change, Beautiful Boy’ are objects, more
than paintings. Although using many of the material devices of traditional
painting, they step beyond canvas and paint to literally emerge off and over
the canvas.
In these works, we see Hoffmann deprioritise his own hand,
allowing the materials to speak for themselves. Transparent layers of resin
manipulate light and spread a haze over an abstracted impression of coastal
colour. These objects are the outcomes of unrushed play and experimentation.
Hoffmann wanted to stay true to his childlike impulses which allows for the
accidental, the serendipitous, and even failure - which he sees as crucial to
the development of this work and his practice at large. We invite you to visit
and engage with the works as they are only truly completed when the viewer
participates in creating their meaning.
-Kate Alstergren
















RYAN HOFFMANN STUDIO © 2022 ALLRIGHTS RESERVED