beinArt interview with Mikel Glass

beinArt Interview with Mikel Glass by Elspeth McIntosh

Mikel Glass covers a range of subjects within his art where he uses the traditional approach of free association to create works that

cover a range of themes and methods for producing work from sculptural to painted pieces. Mikel is a rare artist in that he is interested purely in the ideas behind his work, rather than adhering to one particular aesthetic cool which then dictates his oeuvre and its mode of expression. This purity and integrity is a rare sight and this interview provides an opportunity to look into the mind of an artist who is not afraid to dance between disciplines and themes.

Mikel often focuses on the found object whether it is people or inanimate objects which he comes across as well as the found material from his subconscious. This allows the artist to remain receptive to an ever-changing environment and possibilities for subject matter.

Elspeth McIntosh – Mikel, it’s great to interview someone who explores all kinds of art-making using such varied subject matter. I have to say, it is hard to pin you down. I find myself trying to find a linear path from one medium to another within your work, from sculpture to painting, yet it is hard because your work often has to do with the inanimate, found or discarded object. I cannot imagine sound to your pieces for some reason and that seems to suggest some kind of purity. They disturb me for this reason, not that I have synaesthesia when I usually look at work, yet this is my immediate reaction. Is this a pleasing reaction for you?

Mikel Glass – I’d like to believe that I stay true to my unconscious mind, at least when embracing the things that attract me. But someday I’d like to allow myself to embrace the conscious realm as well. I think that will yield product more readily received, as it seems you are not alone in feeling disturbed. I do feel I am speaking one simple truth – I have felt discarded and worthless in my life and I deal with that by focusing on things that speak to that theme. I certainly don’t seek out ideas I feel will disturb others, but I do believe that people often project themselves upon the objects they view, and sometimes they don’t like what they see looking back at them. For the record, I don’t hear any sound either.

EM – I had taken on the more conscious expressionist approach myself and found it psychologically draining given the deliberate decision to put confronting images on the canvas. Perhaps it would be safe to stick to silent work from the unconscious so that you are not forcing powerful emotions into a corner. Would you agree with this?

MG – It sure is a whole lot easier! Right now I’m working on a piece for a show inspired by the psychiatrist Carl Jung for a show at Glass Garage Gallery. Jung was Mr. Unconscious, and I took the occasion to almost completely bypass my brain in any decision making process regarding materials, composition and meaning. The process is fraught with commercial and time inefficiencies, but I seem to have gotten lucky as Henry, the proprietor, has declared the work my best ever. And it didn’t involve painting – it’s metal and glass and light and Fresnel lenses. I did accumulate all the stuff I needed, but the construction seemed to be driven by an invisible force.

EM – You’ve created such an amazing array of works, are you working as an artist full time?

MG – Well, these days art plays second fiddle to helping raise my three kids, but those violins are about the only two instruments in the band. My work time is then divided into two facets – commissioned work and “my own stuff.” I am finding it difficult to indulge myself with flights of fancy at this point in my life as the focus is on supporting my family.

EM – Do your children provide inspiration for your artwork?

MG – No, unless the insanity they cause counts.

EM – What kind of commissions are you taking at the moment?

MG – Liz Cheney has commissioned me to paint a nude Dick. Elvis is sitting for a portrait for his comeback album. Seriously, I’m painting a woman, whose five kids I have painted individually and in a family portrait, for an article in Fine Art Connoisseur magazine in September. I’m also starting another commissioned portrait in Potomac Maryland. Both are relatively staid, but I’m trying to imbue each with just enough personal stuff to feel like it’s my own work.

EM – You say on beinart.org that ‘The greatest peril in my process is when I come up with an idea that swims in my head. . . only to realize that it may not be appreciated by others in the physical realm.’ This can certainly be difficult when imagery is summoned from the subconscious uncensored. I personally believe that it is a true gift to be able to access this sort of imagery without taking the easy approach of simply creating something ‘edgy’ that will sell and be accepted. My question is: has there ever been anything you have been too apprehensive to paint, and why?

MG – Sure. I admit to dark thoughts, and until I find someone comfortable showing work that springs from that process I have to keep it repressed. Even the stuff that I make that gets labeled “edgy” has most of the edges blunted and burnished. I’m a little afraid of offending people, but more inhibited by not knowing how to sell the stuff that would result from opening the spigot full blast.

EM – I see. Morbid artwork can comfort the viewer at times, but as you say, it is a question of whether they would buy it. That is often the thing which holds back an artist is “Will this be a waste of art material?”

MG – Wasting the material is not my concern – it’s time we can’t replace. As life gets more complicated there’s less time for frivolous indulgences. At times I feel mercenary about only doing work that is slated for a specific purpose. The danger there is that I at times feel perilously close to losing touch with the art spirit, which is fed by flights of fancy. And, by the way, please introduce me to those viewers who are comforted by morbid art. I need more of them in my life.

EM – I see that you went through a period of asking people off the street to pose for your paintings in the ‘Street Figures’ series. Was it a rewarding experience at the time? Would you do this again?

MG – The most rewarding aspect of that period was connecting with people I had been advised to ignore if I wanted to stop my heart from bleeding after first experiencing the plight of the homeless in New York when I moved here in the 1980′s. Some were so sweet and reserved. The angry or really mentally disturbed ones were a different story. After a few incidents including confrontation, lice infestations, arson, crack smoking, defecation and the like, I was asked to cease that series by my studio neighbors. I think I dealt with the issue sufficiently enough that I don’t feel a need to revisit it, at least at the moment.

EM – Good in theory but not in practice. Oh well, had they hit the right art scene I’m sure they could have felt right at home! I remember being in New York when I was eleven in the middle of winter with people begging on the streets in the snow. Some of them were wonderful, gregarious people, but there were certainly others I would avoid! Perhaps the friendlier ones could be approached again one day?

MG – Maybe not the same people as they seem to disappear or be disappeared. But yes, perhaps one day that impulse will cycle through anew. I sort of hope it does.

EM – The section of your website ‘Saved Souls’ which features many paintings of dolls, such as At Rest some as discarded subjects and others as independent creatures interest me. It reminds me of when I was young, making sure that each and every toy was given an equal amount of attention so that they wouldn’t feel left out and you have this strong contrast between the disregarded and idolised dolls. Is this intentional?

MG – Actually, they were all discards, but in that my mission is to give the dolls a voice I’m happy to hear that you feel some are idolized. They certainly were loved by someone at some point, and I’m happy to know that all are not holding grudges.

EM – What has been the most gratifying response you have ever had to your artwork?

MG – I mostly love when people show me how a painting makes me feel. The biggest ego boost is when I get a term paper or essay about one of my paintings that someone has spent tons of time writing.

EM – Your precision in painting your studio tools is incredible, but I also really want to look at your show ‘Important Cardboard and Paper Collectibles’. How did you create these works?

MG – It was a pretty tumultuous process of experimentation and discovery. Basically, they are paintings on sculptures. The sculptures are wooden carpentry. There were all kinds of little innovations and bits of ingenuity required to address certain aspects. Those were the most thrilling parts. One of the most notable experiences was working with thin veneers to make the bags, cups and foil box. After trying to bend the material, to no avail, over and over again, I turned to experts in the field to seek help. All were unanimous, “You can’t bend Veneer!” But did Ben Vereen, the venerable dancer ever give up? No! If Ben Vereen can bend, surely I could bend veneer. I used little tips I learned, like using wood softeners, ammonia and steam to condition the wood. Indeed, I got to the point where I was bending the wood to nearly 90 degrees without it breaking. The experts I stayed in touch with said, “You won’t get past 90.” So I came up with the bright idea, that recently led to the deaths of two people in the American desert, of constructing a steam tent in my studio that I could sit in and apply pressure to wood in tiny increments over long periods of time. And my skin never looked better! My neighbors joked that looked like a mad scientist when I would emerge from my plastic tent disheveled in my underwear and goggles and snorkel. I just felt like I was on a mission.

EM – Last question. I often finish interviews by asking this: what is your most important message for artists today?

MG – If you really have something to say, say it and don’t listen to the nay-sayers. If your message is stupid, quit and get a real job.

EM – The wise words of a sage.

Artworks from top to bottom:

Kabuki – Oil on canvas – 54 x 30 inches – 1996

Special Friends

At Rest, from the ‘Saved Soul’ series – 17 x 32 inches – 2004

The Redeemer, from the Street Figures series - 60 x 90 inches – 1991-2007

Pizza, paint on wood.