Luke Rion Interview: Lost Relics of an Analogue Past
“The flow of time is always cruel… Its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it… A thing that doesn’t change with time is a memory of younger days.” – Ocarina of Time
For many children of the 80s and 90s, the Legend of Zelda games are a cherished memory kept close to the heart. This is certainly the case for Melbourne based artist Luke Rion. His most recent project, fittingly titled Lost Relics, ‘journeys through childhood video game nostalgia, and how something so vivid and so relevant in youth fades and eventually becomes discarded and lost.’
Sadly for those who would like to keep them around forever, these video game consoles are now obsolete and outdated. This isn’t a comment on e-waste specifically, but it’s a reminder that so many man made objects don’t have anywhere to go once we’ve discarded them – they won’t naturally decay and will be doomed to live out their lonely days unused. Aside from any ecological concerns though, Lost Relics is a fond love letter to those little plastic boxes that brought us all so much joy.
Luke’s style of painting is unique and arresting, speaking to something deeper that lurks in the sub conscious. Overgrown landscapes remind us of the uneasy, fragile relationship between humans and the natural world. We leave our little traces behind but eventually nature will overtake them all.
His exceptional talent has been recognised by Outré Gallery, with his latest series of Zelda paintings currently being exhibited in its Vanguard show alongside established artists such as Brandi Milne and Hikari Shimoda.
After a trip down memory lane paved by Game Boys and Dreamcasts, I was excited to ask Luke all about his work and inspiration..
With Lost Relics you explore the fate of obsolescent technology – once cherished video game consoles that have long since been abandoned by their owners. Video games such as Zelda were clearly a big influence on you growing up – with this work are you looking back wistfully at a lost era of your life?
What a great question! I can’t deny the console and cartridge paintings are a love letter to that part of my youth, a gleeful representation of these beloved objects. I do definitely think I am looking back at a part of my life that was wonderfully innocent and full of potential. I do also believe there is something more sinister in the work, a cocktail of desire, nostalgia, escapism.
The first painting of a console came from an unexpected place. At the time I was painting a great deal of figureless environments and abandoned spaces. My intention with these works was to explore this overwhelming sense of loss and of time passing in a given space. I dwelled in that mode of thought and feeling for the better part of a year. It was quite honestly, unsettling. I came to realise over time, the work was screaming at me to change. The unintentional consequence of focusing so much on empty space led me to find something of intense nostalgia as the focus. The space in the work needed to be polarised and I needed to fill this void I created in myself, so I painted my Super Nintendo from my youth in the centre of a forest floor. This was the first painting with game consoles and it was quite a revelatory moment. It teased this new found truth out of me, and I haven’t stopped yet.
Really the whole journey has taught me that I can either expose my doubts or show my intense love. I now see each subsequent work with a greater purpose and clarity to reaffirm this truth.
Your work has a strong connection with the natural world, frequently featuring forests and foliage. Did New Zealand influence this side of your work at all?
I left New Zealand as a baby, latched on to my parent’s whims of a more sunny life. I lived in Queensland for most of my youth and loved playing in the bushland when I was little. Making little cubby houses beneath shrubs. It wasn’t until I travelled up the coast to the lush rainforests on the sunshine coast in Queensland that it impacted the focus of my work. It was a truth I wanted to explore. Nature just seems so untameable and so wild. I absolutely love the intensity and uncontrollable flow of nature and yet there are rhythms that underpin everything. There’s a pattern in the chaos of nature that I’m always trying to tame, it fiercely keeps me on my toes.
Lost in the Rubble 
Somewhere Tomorrow
Some of your earlier work (Earthquake, Lost in the Rubble) seems to evoke a dystopian, post-apocalyptic world where maybe only a few people have survived. Nature has started taking over again while only a few items of human detritus remain. Is there an ecological warning here, or what was the idea behind these paintings?
My second show ‘Journey’ from 2017 explored the idea of a family migrating to find a new home. A lot of the places they travel through are absolutely destroyed by natural elements. Natural disasters have a way of dramatically and quickly changing a landscape; everything undulates to the movements of the natural elements and in their wake is left amazing patterns both devastating and beautiful. As an artist/observer I love seeing these patterns in nature, I wouldn’t say I consciously was making a statement about the environment, but I can say the state of the environment inevitably affects what I paint and how I paint. Those sentiments are definitely in my work.
Your art has a very unique style – which artists, illustrators (or games) have influenced you over the years? (Definitely got some Van Gogh vibes in there somewhere!)
Mary Tonkin – the colours in her work are so seamless and her brush strokes are so minimal but essential. The way she captures Australian forests is just incredible. Andrew Hem for his mastery of colour, composition and pattern which is just amazing; his bright palettes just vibrate. I love that he really explores the use of figures equally as much as the landscape in his work. Jeremy Miranda – he really nails the neutrals in his work. Strong, simple compositions and deft economic brush strokes. There are countless more influences but I seem to always gravitate to these artists. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if I took something subconsciously from Van Gogh, his work is a well of inspiration.
Has the pandemic influenced your output at all, for better or worse?
My output of work has never been consistent, I struggle with adhering to working patterns. I produce work when I can convince myself I need to. It’s a strange argument between adult self and inner child self. The inner child thrashes about a lot and usually wins. But the pandemic has made me pump the brakes on a lot of aspects of my life and honestly, it has been for the better.
What’s next – can you talk about any current or upcoming projects?
I’m trying to build a clear and consistent process in my work, that’s my biggest project. Once I’ve built that foundation I feel like I’ll be free to do a great deal of good work. I do have some ideas for some shows but I won’t speak of them now, it’s too soon. There are definitely more console paintings in the works. I love receiving emails and messages of what consoles people cherish and would love to see in a painting. I’m all down for that!
About the Artist
Luke Rion is a New Zealand born artist, who is currently based out of Melbourne. For the last decade his practice has explored figurative and still life subjects, with a particular focus on our nostalgic relationship with objects and the negative space in which they inhabit.
In his latest body ‘Lost Relics’ Rion journeys through childhood video game nostalgia, and how something so vivid and so relevant in youth fades and eventually becomes discarded and lost. A comment on our ephemeral rituals with technology.
Copyright: The images in this post are copyrighted Luke Rion. Their reproduction, even in part, is forbidden without the explicit approval of the rightful owners.
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