You know Anthony Lister? He’s the guy who’s managed to transcend the limitations that plague many ‘street artists’ and establish himself in the gallery scene, yet he still manages to paint tongue in cheek pieces that drip with semiotic irony. His work the embodiment of the art of now, infinitely malleable and endlessly referential, but somehow consistent aesthetically. Lister traverses decades, movements, cultures, and materials without becoming burdened by the past. We caught some time with the self-professed time traveler to talk about his practice, being an Aussie in a global environment, and our contemporary mythologies.

Hey Anthony, you’ve been travelling heaps lately. Where are you right now?

I’m in New York, getting ready to go to London to prepare for my show there. I’ve been around, I had an Italy show this year, and an LA show this year.

Why do you keep moving around, what’s the urge there?

I guess to do my craft I need to be in all these different cities. And I get invited by interesting people who want me to do interesting projects, so that’s the motivation for doing what I’m doing.

Specifically as an Australian artist, do you think that travel is a necessity?

Yeah, I think travel is essential. In every aspect of it, whether you’re Australian, English, or German. You need to be out and about.

You’ve mentioned Brett Whiteley as an influence in the past; do you consider yourself to be continuing that lineage of Australian painting? Your work shares that same sort of energy.

I’m definitely proud to be part of it; I’d never compare myself to Brett Whiteley. I’m honoured that you’d suggest that I’m following in his footsteps, as he did from Bacon and many others in the field of Adventure Painting. So thanks, and sure why not? That’s why I do what I do.

Can you tell us a little bit about Adventure Painting?

Well it’s about dealing with problems, and problem solutions aesthetically and conceptually. That’s basically the sum of it.

Who of your contemporaries do you identify with?

I think more like Jimi Hendrix. But as a visual artist Robert Rauschenberg or Bacon, many, De Kooning even. It’s not a character thing so much as it’s a style thing that attracts me to these people.

I wonder if I could get your thoughts on landscape painting, seeing as it’s such a dominant trope of Australian painting and it’s something that you’ve engaged with before in your work. Where do you see that history going?

Well history continues doesn’t it? It’s constantly being written by those who win, so I don’t really have an opinion on where things can go as far as my projection in the future. From what I gauge from being in Australia is that there’s a lot of life there, and there’s a lot of knowledge there about what I’m doing and I have a lot of knowledge about what other artists are doing. It’s a healthy scene, as part of a community. But I’m a part of a lot of communities, one of them is fine art, another one of them is street art, then there’s the whole graffiti movement as well. I like to call it ‘multiple creative personality disorder’.

Your last series, the ‘Street Faces’ works were very urban works – but they still had that engagement with landscape. Are you trying to play with that lineage?

I’m built from history. I’m carrying the canon of art history on my shoulders. It’s very relevant, and it definitely needs to be paid homage to. Really my favourite artists are that ones that have died before me doing what they love and sacrificing everything in order to make the things that they make. I weep, you know? I weep over art; it’s just something that I love. I love doing it and I love being involved in it.

Could you ever see yourself moving away from your street practice?

Well I’d consider it, as I work naturally in my natural environment doing what I’ve done for a decade, I don’t see myself limiting myself or holding back at all. I just feel comfortable doing what I’m doing. I really don’t consider myself defined in that way, I mean I’m constantly moving away from street art and I’m constantly moving away from graffiti, but I’m also constantly returning to it. It’s taking over me; it’s like sort of demon within sometimes.

So what keeps you coming back to the streets?

Well I’m always on the street, and I’m a compulsive scratcher. I must have OCD or something, I just need to carve things, and I like to see what things do when I touch them and move them around in the world. I’m interested in the pasts of other time travellers; I see graffiti as being a form of time travel. And it’s a fun game, it’s a game that I play.

When you talk about time travel, do you see graffiti as an affirmation of your existence?

Well wherever you are, there you are right? And in this craft it’s wherever you’ve been, there you are. So we’re talking about the time travellers in the literal sense.

What have you been busy with lately?

Well I prefer to keep it illegal, but when I get offered opportunities to do things and go places then I take them. You know, it all evens out. My intentions are good, and as long as my work is good then that’s what it important to me.

Can you tell me a little bit about the project you’ve got going on with Red Bull Special Edition?

Yeah, well they asked me to paint this giant stadium. With Tim (Cahill) who asked me to do an artwork with a character of him. It’s a great space to paint you know? And he’s a cool guy – we got along. So it’s as simple as that, I did a big painting.

You’re revisiting your superhero motif in this latest piece, what is it about that content that keeps you coming back?

Well I come and go from many concepts aesthetically. I figure I’ll go from ballerinas, to ballerinas being raped by a pack of dogs, to superheroes, and really ultimately I’m always talking about mythology and high-brow versus low-brow. I figured you know, sport is an art and art is a sport. And this dude is a superhero, I don’t know if you’ve seen this guy with a ball.

Do you see a parallel with the way that those athletes are put on a pedestal as well?

Absolutely, and it needs to be shared around a little. I’m far more interested in cultures of all sorts, there needs to be more of a balance. I’m disgraced by the state of my hometown, Queensland, who’s premier Campbell Newman is just strangling all the support for creativity out of the city. I think it’s shameful, and I think sport is put on far too much of a pedestal in that city, and in Australia in general.

Do you think those sporting arenas are a contemporary playing field for that contemporary mythology you’re talking about? It’s relatable, it’s good versus evil.

You know I’m sure it’s going to come out in my mind that way, but at the moment I don’t have the clarity or the hindsight to really see what I’m doing. But I know how I feel about things.

So you’re not going to do a footballer series anytime soon?

[Laughs] You know that I don’t know. I don’t know, but I know that I’m interested in ballerinas and rape scenes.

Why rape scenes?

Well I think that it’s very contradictory to everything I’m trying to say, and it helps start conversations. I’m into conversations, not so much winners and losers which is what a lot sport is about.

Your ballerinas – are they the physical manifestation of action? That adventure painting again?

Absolutely, and it works conceptually as well. As we dive into the difference of how we perceive the high-brow and low-brow, and how we see the difference between a stripper and a ballerina. The only difference is that one takes off their clothes. These are the analogies and conversations that I like to raise in my work and in my interactions.

Do you try and keep that balance of high and low in your own life?

Yeah. Balance is very key.

You don’t want to go too far either way?

I love being way too far in the deep end, that’s when I perform the best.

See more of Lister’s work here.

Find out more about the Red Bull Special Edition Project here.