Laurina Paperina was born in 1980. She lives and works in Mori Trento, Italy. Her drawings and animations have been exhibited in Italy, France, the U.S., Spain, Japan, and South Africa, and she has contributed to several publications, group performances, and art fairs. “I play with art,” she writes in her statement of intent. “My work is an ironic elaboration of contemporaneity. It is an elaboration stemming from a language synthesis where diversity and contradiction are intertwined and where the influences of Internet culture, television, comic strips, video games, sci-fi and cartoons are generating a complex set of elements, which, although turning into an apparent chaos, are letting themselves be seen in recognizable forms.”

What initially drew you to the language of comics? How would you characterize your particular approach to the form?

LP: When I was little baby duck (from Italian, Laurina Paperina translates as “Little Laura, Little Duck,” more or less), I read many comics, especially Japanese Manga, but now I almost exclusively read underground comics. I find them to be the freshest and most interesting, compared to classic comics.

I don’t usually draw comics. In fact, I prefer to draw animated cartoons or paint individual characters. Right now, when I draw I don’t want to create history—I prefer to think of my drawings as if they are many small photographs that together make up a large puzzle.

What are your sources of inspiration? Where do you come up with your ideas?

LP: I have many influences: movies, cartoons, TV series, videogames…. I love horror movies from the ‘80s and ‘90s, such as Peter Jackson’s Braindead. My favorite cartoonists are Matt Groening and Robert Crumb. My favorite comic is Massimo Mattioli’s Squeak the Mouse.

As for art, I love street art. Some of my favorite artists are David Lynch, Dan Perjovschi, Ed Templeton, Barry McGee, Yoshitomo Nara, David Shrigley, NeckFace, Clayton Brothers, and many others.

Your work often employs a crude humor that targets cultural icons—including the stars of pop music and contemporary art. In (How to) Kill the Artists, for instance, several famous artists meet their doom in gruesome battles to the death with their materials. On one level, these drawings, animations, and installations are simply outrageously funny. On another, they comment on the celebrity status of artists, the art market, and the fetishization of contemporary art objects. Can you tell me a little about how you chose the artists to be “killed,” and what this series means to you?

LP: My series Superfake is about celebrity. In fact, the real superheroes of our time are the celebrities, those who have money and fame. As superheroes, they can to do what they want: and for that I represent them as ugly and unfortunate. How to Kill the Artists is my most recent series. It’s a joke. It’s a way to ironically portray the “holiness” of the art world. In the series, I kill the most important artists in the world. I kill them because then, when all the artists are dead, I will remain the only artist left in the world!

Are there any artists that should be spared?

LP: Hmmm…. Right now, no! All the artists must die!

In this same series, artists are attacked by their own creations, ones that have, in many cases, afforded them relative fame and fortune. Are you exploring the idea that images take on lives of their own, independent of their authors, as they are copied and disseminated? Or am I reading too much into it?

LP: Yes, you’re right! It’s as if the works are rebelling against their author and come to life. If this could happen in reality, it would be a really fantastic thing… and a little bit scary!

In your artist statement, you mention irony several times. I believe what you are saying is that your graphic work (which is, it hardly needs to be mentioned, truly graphic) is a kind of exaggerated extension of reality—an imaginary playing field where the scenarios are so bizarre and the violence is so over the top that it becomes ironic. To me, there is a strong commentary on the omnipresence of violence in our contemporary video games, movies, and television shows, and the resulting desensitization to violence in many forms. Is this something you see your work dealing with?

LP: Irony is fundamental in my life and, consequently, in my work. In recent years, my work has gone down a darker path (this also has to do with my interest in horror and splatter movies). In my works, the struggle between good and evil is always present, and therefore violence is often present—even if I try to represent it in a bizarre and non-dramatic way.

What are the issues facing us today that you’re most interested in, concerned about, or motivated by as an artist? What should we be paying attention to?

LP: There are many—too many—problems in this world. To counter this, I try to make people smile with my art. There is so much sadness in the world that I want to exorcise, and I attempt to do this with scenes of violence that are, in the end, almost funny. For me, art must make us think but also make people smile and relax.